asscreedkinkmeme ([personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-01-04 10:19 am
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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.

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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

Fill: Resynchronise

(Anonymous) 2012-05-19 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)
For the prompt: The Bleeding Effect is starting to take its toll on Desmond. Shaun comes up with a possible cure: use the Animus to let Desmond relive some of his own memories.
Prompt link:


It was after Desmond had jumped headfirst into the Sanctuary wall after suffering another bout of the bleeding effect that Shaun decided that something needed to be done. The screaming at night was bad enough, and they were starting to run out of bandages again for all the injuries Desmond kept inflicting on himself one way or another, through distraction or thinking he was being attacked by the ghosts in his head.

Desmond muttered something, his eyes downcast as Shaun eyed the wound on his forehead. There were a couple of stones embedded into his flesh, which were going to be a pain to get out (more for Desmond than him), but that wasn't the biggest problem.

"English, Desmond," he said primly, reaching for the wet cloth.

Desmond stared at him for a few seconds in incomprehension before wincing. "I – shit, sorry. I just…" Desmond trailed off, his shoulders hunching and he turned his head away. Well, he would have if Shaun hadn't pressed the cloth to the side of his head, making Desmond freeze, hissing.

"Hold still," Shaun griped, trying to clean as much of the blood away as he could at once. "The more you move, the longer this'll take."

Taking a deep breath, Desmond stilled himself; it didn't stop him from rambling though. "Sorry about the non-English thing – I don't even know what language I was just talking in there and… Shit." Desmond closed his eyes. "It's… It's getting worse," he admitted quietly.

"Yeah," Shaun said dryly, "we noticed." Desmond's hallucinations hadn't lasted for more than thirty seconds, but with each one, it was steadily creeping towards that point. They'd tried to cut down the amount of time Desmond spent in the Animus, but it didn't look like it had made any difference. They were slowly losing him.

Desmond let loose a weak chuckle. "That obvious, huh?"

Shaun squinted at Desmond's head; it looked like most of the grit was gone, at least. "Not really – the random Arabic, the Italian gestures, the butchering of the English language –though that could be all you for all I know- are little things, hardly noticeable."

Desmond stopped breathing for a second and Shaun peered at him in surprise. "You haven't realised," he said, his eyebrows rising. Which went hand-in-hand with what Desmond had been saying before. Well, damn.

"I – it's these memories," Desmond told him, rubbing a hand over his hair. "I can barely keep track of what's mine anymore. I'm remembering more about Ezio's life than my own and…" He hissed, his hand playing with the buckles of his hidden blade.

"Hm." Shaun cocked his head to the side as he started to peel the strips off the plaster. "Going over your own memories might help?"

Desmond glared at him. "You think I haven't tried?" He yelped when Shaun whacked his shoulder for moving out of the way of the plaster. "I've tried, all right? I try to remember what I used to do before all this, anything that has nothing to do with Italy or Masyaf, stuff that happened when I was bartending! No matter what, it just. Slips. Away." Desmond's shoulders were rigid, his knuckles white against the stairs, but then he slumped, sighing. "It's getting harder to remember any of it without something of Ezio's or Altaïr's coming up first," he said, his voice soft.

Shaun was quiet as he mulled over Desmond's words, the other man also going silent after his outburst. The problem was, it wasn't like they had a way to control what memories Desmond saw… Wait. "I can't believe we didn't think of this before!" Shaun exclaimed, starting to pace as his thoughts raced. "The solution is so simple but it should work with no complications whatsoever!"

"What're you talking about?" Desmond asked, watching him in confusion.

"You relive your own genetic memories in the Animus!"

Desmond stared at him, his jaw dropping open. "That – that could actually work."

"And the bleeding effect should actually help against losing your sense of self." It would ground him more, keeping his memories there.

The relieved laugh that spluttered out of Desmond just then made Shaun realise he hadn't actually heard Desmond laugh in the entire time they'd known each other.

* * *

Lucy had been a little hesitant when Shaun and Desmond had proposed their idea but she eventually acquiesced with a nod.

"Sooo, any particular year you want to remember?" Rebecca asked once Desmond was seated on the Animus.

"Surprise me."

"Heh. All right."

Once Desmond was in, Shaun wasn't sure if he should keep an eye on what was going on or do some other work. It wasn't as if Desmond was going to need any database entries and while Shaun was perfectly fine with spying on Desmond's ancestors, they had been dead for a handful of centuries; they weren't exactly going to mind.

Coming to a decision, Shaun started on working through his e-mails.

* * *

They eventually fell into a routine: every couple of days, Desmond would relive another part of his life: riding his motorcycle; life at the Farm; his bartender days; whatever showed up at the random roll of the wheel. And it clearly helped, the night terrors being kept at bay and Desmond spacing out less, looking a lot more relaxed and dare Shaun say it, happier. Desmond's synchronisation dipped a little bit as a result, but no-one counted that as a total loss.

Which was why it was such a big shock when one day, Desmond started thrashing in the Animus at the tail-end of a session, desyncing completely.

Desmond rolled off the Animus, apparently not caring about the hole he just ripped from the IV drip and as soon as he was on his feet, he was staring around wildly, backing away from them. He was seeing though, his eyes flicking between the three of them; it wasn't some more hallucinations. Except, he didn't appear to be recognising them.

"Who are you people?" he demanded, and there went Shaun's stomach. "What do you want from me?"

"Desmond! Desmond, it's okay, we're not going to hurt you," Lucy said as soothingly as she could while she approached him. Shaun could see how pale she was though; it wasn't surprising – he recognised those words too. They were an echo from the Abstergo security tapes when Desmond first woke up after being kidnapped.


Re: Fill: Resynchronise

(Anonymous) 2012-05-20 08:04 am (UTC)(link)
I remember that prompt, and I never considered that as a possibility for Des having to "bleed" his own memories. But it makes perfect sense! this a one-shot, writeanon? Or can this anon look forward to more chapters? :3

(HOLY SHIT! We can post *links* as anon here? I'm still learning Dreamwidth, and I know that LJ never let us do that! *hugs site*)

FILL: Ezio and Me and Baby Makes Three

(Anonymous) 2012-06-11 09:33 pm (UTC)(link)
From this Prompt:

Teamwork people!

So, right in the middle of flipping through the meme, I had sudden brain surge. Ezio's in the middle of a fight(anyone really, but anon is partial to a Borgia guard) when they have to freeze because the almost trod on lonely baby-child. Cue both of them running lulz-ily around Roma looking for the parents...and finishing their fight the instant he/she/it's out of their hand

Here's the Fill:

Re: FILL: Ezio and Me and Baby Makes Three

(Anonymous) 2012-06-12 10:56 am (UTC)(link)
Uwaaaa, yes to the filling of old prompts, +1 just for that! Oh, the good old days, before Revelations...

I actually did how you wrote your Borgia guard, simply for his sheer "naivete" or "ignorance" of the idea that he was SUPPOSED to fear an Assassin, which single-handedly gave him something of an edge... I'll have more comments later, but although it wasn't my prompt, THANK you for filling this!

Re: FILL: Ezio and Me and Baby Makes Three

(Anonymous) - 2012-06-13 02:53 (UTC) - Expand

From the same replying anon

(Anonymous) - 2012-06-14 10:22 (UTC) - Expand

Fill: The Book of Days (Far and Away)

(Anonymous) 2012-06-14 04:51 pm (UTC)(link)
From this prompt:

Browsing through the AC kink meme- I haven't seen anyone yet fill a prompt involving Leonardo playing with the Apple and goes back in time. D:
I seen Altair in Ezio's Time and with Ezio vice versa.

So why not Leonardo accidently arrives back in Altair time?

Here's the fill:

Fill: Merely an Afterthought.

(Anonymous) 2012-06-20 03:51 pm (UTC)(link)
Author’s Comments: Awwww Yeeeaah. First fill on the AC Kink meme (I’m usually a regular on the Fallout Kink Meme) I saw this one and I had to fill it, even though I was really looking for something else. There is going to be implied Atair/Maria, but nothing sexual here. I hope you enjoy!
Original Prompt:

Merely an afterthought (1/2)

Maria had always thought Altair could do anything she asked him to, but it came to her as a bit of a surprise when he just simply stopped dead in his tracks. Their son had wanted to go swimming in the river for a little while so he could play with Tazim. Maria had agreed to it, but forgot to tell Altair until the next morning. Luckily, Altair had a day free so he could spend time with his wife and son. When Maria told him that she wanted to take Darim to the river, he had no objections to it at first. He wanted to see his son happy for once.

Darim took the lead and ran ahead of his parents. The other children were playing as they passed by because earlier that week, it had been pouring outside. Maria kept a close eye on Darim as she walked, while Altair noticed the novices on the rooftops. He began to remember how arrogant he was when he, Malik and his brother Kadar began their training. It was one of the few moments he could still remember very clearly, and one of the first times Altair had been introduced to Kadar.

When they did reach their destination, Darim was impressed with the size of the river. He slid out of his shirt, yanked off his shoes, and ran straight for the shallow water.

“Be careful!” Maria warned.

“I will!” Darim replied. Altair sat down on the patch of grass closest to the banks, with Maria right next to him. He watched his son play and splash in the water, and saw him get tackled by Tazim once he and Malik had finally gotten there.

“Brings back memories.” Malik said.

“Sure does.” Altair replied. After an hour of Darim and Tazim swimming up and down the shallow end, Altair and Malik went for a small walk so they could reminisce in their own childhood. It wasn’t too long before they both heard a cry for help.

“Altair! Altair! Come quick!”

They both sprinted back to Maria and saw Darim flailing for help in the middle of the river.

“The current is too strong!” Malik shouted. Darim was lucky that there were a few rocks jutting out of the river that he could actually grab onto. Altair dashed to the river to save Darim, but stopped. His muscles wouldn’t move him any further out of fear.

“What are you waiting for?!” Maria screamed. Altair panicked, for even he had no idea how he was going to save Darim.

Fill: Steal All My Air [1/3]

(Anonymous) 2012-06-21 02:02 am (UTC)(link)

At first Desmond had just thought that the Bleeding Effect had finally gotten out of control and pushed him over the edge. When he saw his ancestor and Leonardo da Vinci standing in the middle of the hideout’s kitchen area, he just blinked and hoped silently to himself that while he’d clearly lost it, maybe they’d go away if he just ignored them. With that plan in mind, he walked straight past both men, made himself coffee, and walked back into the main room, ignoring their confused attempts at conversation and baffled expressions.

It wasn’t until they followed him into the main room and made Rebecca jump up and scream that he realized that he might not be totally cracked after all. And that they had a serious problem.

There was general chaos for a few minutes as everyone shouted at each other in different languages, weapons were drawn, and a paper cup was tossed across the room to bonk off of Ezio’s head. Things were seconds away from resulting in a murder when Desmond decided that he’d had enough and started shouting at everyone in Italian. Ezio calmed down after that, though he didn’t put away his sword or let Leonardo out from behind his protective stance, and the rest of the Assassins shut up as well.

Using Desmond as a translator, much to his annoyance, the group was able to establish that somehow Ezio had activated the Apple. He had been mulling over Minerva’s words while holding it, wondering about who the mysterious ‘Desmond’ could be, and the Apple must have responded to his thoughts. Leonardo had just been there at the time. When Desmond introduced himself, Ezio had given him a long look, before finally breaking out into a wide smile. He sheathed his blades, and then stepped forward to embrace Desmond warmly, calling him ‘brother’. Desmond returned the hug, oddly touched at the older Assassin’s easy acceptance.

Once introductions had been made the modern Assassins tried their best to explain the future to the two Italians, but Desmond had a feeling that both were a little lost. Admittedly, even though Leonardo was a genius and Ezio was no slouch himself, it was a bit much to expect them to understand computers when they hadn’t even mastered indoor plumbing yet. Still, they tried to understand all of the strange machines surrounding the sanctuary, nodding along to Desmond’s shaky explanations.

As he spoke, Desmond noticed something strange. For some reason Leonardo kept giving him thoughtful looks, like he was yet another unexplained piece of equipment that could be understood with enough study. Desmond was unused to such focus. It made him feel a bit nervous, so he did his best to avoid looking in Leonardo’s direction.

After the excitement and explanations had died down a little, Desmond was assigned to keeping an eye on the two time-travelers until they could figure out a way to get home. His first task was finding them a room to sleep in. Grumbling to himself in the various languages he’d picked up, Desmond gestured for them to follow him as he lead them through the ruins of the villa to find a suitable room that wasn’t too destroyed.

As he lead them through crumbling halls, past abandoned and damaged rooms and gaping windows, the sunset streaking everything in orange light, Desmond noticed the melancholy look Ezio was giving everything. He abruptly remembered that this had been the other Assassin’s home in the past. To see it in such a run-down state now must have been very difficult for him. Desmond suddenly felt like an inconsiderate jerk.

“Are you...okay?” he asked Ezio in Italian. The older Assassin jerked up, as if he had forgotten that anyone else was there, and gave Desmond a weak smile.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s just...strange to see Monteriggioni in such a state. Even at its worst, it never seemed this...empty.” His voice trailed off sadly as he looked out the windows to the empty remains of the village below. Desmond had experienced it often enough to know when someone was seeing ghosts.

Suddenly Desmond was very glad that Leonardo had somehow accompanied Ezio into the future. He tried to picture what the older Assassin must be going through and just couldn’t. At least there was one familiar face to comfort him. He turned to the artist, giving him a hopeful look. Leonardo would know how to make Ezio feel better.

However, Leonardo merely gave Ezio a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, before offering a suggestion. “Perhaps you should explore a bit mio amore,” he spoke softly, “see if there is anything of the past that still rests here. I’m sure you know many hidden spots what would have been untouched over the years. Maybe something remains?”

Ezio smiled wider, more honestly at Leonardo’s words. “Perhaps I should,” he agreed thoughtfully, turning to stare out through a window over the ruins of the village. “Though I would not want to leave our fine host if he would prefer we stay close.”

Desmond, distracted by the realization that Ezio and Leonardo were apparently...together, jolted when he realized Ezio meant him. “No, no!” he waved his arms just a little too frantically, making the two men stare at him strangely. “By all means, explore! Lord knows I do all the time. There’s plenty to see, if you don’t think it’s going to be too painful. I’m sure you can find your rooms after.”

“Sometimes the pain is worth it; helps me to focus,” Ezio intoned gravely, though for some reason he and Leonardo glanced at each other as he said it. There was no change to Ezio’s expression, but a small smile danced across Leonardo’s lips. “I will not be gone long, nor will I go far.”

“Take as much time as you need,” Desmond told him, trying to be sympathetic.

“Leonardo,” Ezio called out. The artist jumped to attention, smile gone. Ezio stared at him for a moment, before sighed heavily. “Try not to break anything,” he said mysteriously. Then, with a curt nod to them both, he leaped out the window and started dashing across the grounds as gracefully and sure-footed as a cat.

Desmond and Leonardo watched him leave for a while, and then almost as one turned back to each other. Desmond sort of wanted to ask the artist what Ezio had been talking about, but Leonardo was giving him that strange look again. His words died in his throat, and he felt the urge to swallow thickly.

“I believe we were on the way to our rooms?” Leonardo prompted when Desmond hadn’t moved yet.

“Wha? Oh! Yes, rooms, right,” Desmond stuttered, whirling on his feet and walking quickly onwards to hide his red face. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something about the way Leonardo was watching him made Desmond feel...warm.

It took them three tries to find a room that wasn’t too destroyed for Leonardo and Ezio to use. The bed frame itself was broken and in pieces, but the mattress was somehow still alright. Once Leonardo stepped inside to inspect everything, Desmond ducked out to get a few things, like sheets and toiletries. He didn’t think they had toothbrushes in renaissance Italy, but that was no reason to go without while they were here.

He brought his bundle back to Leonardo just in time to see the older man pulling down an old set of curtains. To his shock, instead of the fabric ripping, the entire bracket came down as well with a mighty crash. Leonardo gathered up the fabric and tossed it aside, eyeing the curtain rod critically.

“You know, you don’t need to use curtains. I brought you sheets,” Desmond spoke up, causing Leonardo to look up at him.

“Hmmm? Oh, no, I didn’t intend these to be used as sheets,” Leonardo laughed. “Tell me, what do you think is the strength of this fabric?” He grabbed a corner of the curtains and held them up for show.

Bewildered and not sure where this was going, Desmond shrugged but responded. “Well, the rod gave first, so probably pretty strong. Why?”

The look Leonardo gave him could only be described as predatory. Desmond fought the instinct to take a step backwards. He’d never thought that the gentle artist could be so intimidating based on Ezio’s memories. But now, he felt trapped under Leonardo’s gaze. Subconsciously, his tongue poked out to wet his lips. Leonardo’s eyes tracked the movement, then rose back to meet his own.

Never breaking eye contact, Leonardo began to tear up the curtain into strips. Desmond’s breath hitched at the casual show of strength. He’d never seen the artist like this. There had been no indication that he could be so...fascinating in the memories Desmond had experienced. He wasn’t sure how to deal with this new information. Leonardo continued to make strips out of the curtains, a secretive smile growing wider on his lips as Desmond still didn’t look away.

Suddenly feeling much too hot, Desmond forced himself out of his stupor. “Here, let me just get the bed set up,” he offered, turning away without waiting to hear Leonardo’s response. He tried to calm down as he tucked sheets around the mattress and laid a quilt over top. The toiletries and supplies he had left on the scarred and warped desk across the room as he set to making the bed.

When he was finished, he turned, only to find Leonardo standing right behind him. He startled back so hard he lost his balance, falling back onto the bed with a small cry and a whump.

“L-Leonardo!” Desmond yelped. “W-what are you - !”

“Hush,” Leonardo cut him off, pressing a finger to Desmond’s lips. Instantly Desmond’s mouth snapped shut. When he was sure Desmond was listening, Leonardo continued. “I noticed earlier. You are very tense. When you were interacting with the others, you seemed very defensive, sullen.” Leonardo gave him a considering look. “It reminded me of the way someone else I know can get.”

“Well, we are related,” Desmond pointed out, grateful that his voice stayed steady.

“This is true,” Leonardo nodded. Then, to Desmond’s shock, he crawled up onto the bed, straddling Desmond’s hips as casually as you’d believe. “Which means what works for him should work for you.”

“W-what? Wait, what are you doing?”

“When Ezio becomes very tense, stressed, he cannot perform as well as he desires,” Leonardo explained casually, as if he hadn’t just pinned Desmond to the bed, pressing their hips together. “His muscles do not respond properly, he becomes tired and irritable. So he comes to me, and I help him relax. Would you like me to help you as well?”

Desmond looked up at the other man for a moment, thinking about it. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew what Leonardo was offering, even if he didn’t know the specifics. Part of him was worried about the logistics of having sex with a man that had lived and died centuries before he had even been born. A much larger part of him was telling him that it had been far too long since the last time he’d gotten laid. Besides, he had been rather tense lately, even Shaun had noticed and commented the other day, albeit very sarcastically. What could it hurt? He wasn’t going to become his own ancestor or anything. Or worse, have sex with his ancestor. It shouldn’t be that bad. With all this in mind, he hesitantly nodded. “Okay,” he agreed.

Leonardo beamed at him proudly. “Very good! Now don’t worry, I will take good care of you!”

Desmond wouldn’t say it out loud, but he felt sort of relieved to hear that. It was about time someone else was in charge. He was sick of everything resting on him, depending on him finding the right information, searching through his memories. Letting someone else have control for once sounded fantastic to him.

He decided to prove his willingness by leaning up to press a kiss to Leonardo’s lips. Leonardo let him control the kiss for only a moment, and then he grabbed Desmond’s face, holding him still while he plunged his tongue into Desmond’s mouth. Desmond fell back onto the bed again, Leonardo following without breaking the kiss. They struggled against each other, tongues tangling and hands tugging at clothes, but Leonardo was clever and devious. His fingers snuck up under Desmond’s shirt, teasing at the waistband of his jeans, and Desmond’s mouth fell open with a groan, breaking the kiss. The arousal that had been pooling in his belly since he’d returned to the room to see Leonardo watching him suddenly flooded his body, leaving him hard and aching.

Leonardo instantly began to strip him. There was a small pause while Leonardo marveled over the zipper in his hoodie, but once Desmond made a soft noise of annoyance he focused back on the task at hand. Heat once again rose to Desmond’s cheeks as Leonardo took his sweet time removing each piece of Desmond’s clothes, his hoodie and shirt tossed over the remains of a chair next to the bed. Leonardo took advantage of Desmond’s shirtlessness to press kisses all across his ribs, chuckling when Desmond’s stomach jerked at the contact. Desmond helplessly clung to Leonardo’s shoulders as the kisses trailed lower and lower, his fingers getting tangled in Leonardo’s long hair.

His pants and boxers were removed with much less care than his shirt. Leonardo had a little trouble with the laces of Desmond’s shoes and his belt, ripping each piece away with a quiet focus until Desmond was left bare and gasping on the bed, Leonardo hovering over him fully clothed. They stayed like that for an endless moment, Leonardo studying Desmond’s naked flesh with such intensity that a small whimper escaped Desmond’s lips. He’d never felt so exposed in his life. He had no idea why Leonardo was different. Something in his eyes just made it seem like he could make out every little detail of Desmond’s body, and was committing it to memory.

Leonardo seemed to notice his discomfort, because he began shushing his whimpers softly, brushing his hands over Desmond’s thighs and pressing kisses to his cheeks. Desmond gasped as the lace on Leonardo’s sleeves dragged over his skin, nails scratching lightly and making him shiver. His eyes slipped shut, just giving in and letting Leonardo explore his body thoroughly.

He opened them again when Leonardo stepped away. He didn’t go far, just went to gather up a few strips of the ruined curtains, testing their strength once more between his hands and rubbing it over the sensitive skin of his wrists to test the feel. At once, Desmond understood what they were for. He stared at the fabric nervously as Leonardo chose a few pieces and turned back to the bed. To be honest, Desmond had never tried anything like this before, the whole being-tied-up thing. But strangely enough he was willing to try. Just this once. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch as Leonardo approached with the fabric. Instead of waiting for Leonardo to ask, Desmond wordlessly offered up his wrists to be tied. The pleased look Leonardo gave him made him flush, his erection giving a little twitch.

There wasn’t much left of the headboard to secure Desmond too, so Leonardo lived up to his genius title and somehow managed to secure Desmond to the mattress itself by his arms. His legs were left free, thankfully. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with being completely bound just yet.

But when Leonardo began to tie a strip around his eyes, Desmond jerked back. “Wait,” he asked, suddenly feeling nervous instead of turned on. “Please. Not that.”

“Are you sure?” Leonardo asked gently, no judgement to his tone. “It will make the sensation more intense.”

“Yes, but...” Desmond wasn’t sure how to explain himself. How to tell Leonardo that he was afraid of what he’d see behind his closed eyelids? He was already having enough trouble with the Bleeding Effect with Ezio and Leonardo being physically there. Take away his ability to look around himself and confirm that he was in the present, not the past? He had no idea what would happen. “Please. Not this time.”

Fill: Steal All My Air [2/3]

(Anonymous) 2012-06-21 02:07 am (UTC)(link)
Leonardo searched his face for a moment, but gave in without comment, tossing the fabric away carelessly. Desmond sighed in relief, letting his eyes slip shut as Leonardo stepped away to divest himself of clothing as well.

When Leonardo returned, Desmond opened his eyes to meet the older man’s. Leonardo was giving him the predatory smile again, blindfold forgotten, and in his hand he was holding the bottle of skin lotion Desmond had brought in with the toiletries. The way he stared down at Desmond, a mixture of desire, reverence, and lust, dispelled the remaining nervousness. Desmond licked his lips again, enjoying the way it distracted Leonardo completely. He could feel himself hardening slowly once more.

Then Leonardo decided to take matters into his own hand, quite literally, reached down with his free hand to wrap it around Desmond’s cock. The younger man gasped at the sudden contact, his hips jerking up against his will, trying to increase the friction. “Ah, ah, ah!” Leonardo scolded, releasing Desmond and leaning back a bit. “None of that. As I said, I am taking care of you.” He placed the lotion on the floor next to the bed.

“What? Aw, come on, I didn’t mean to!” Desmond whined. “Please don’t stop?” He yelped when Leonardo gave him a gentle swat on his thigh.

“Careful, or I’ll tie your legs after all. And perhaps gag you.” Leonardo studied him thoughtfully. “Actually, you would look quite good fully bound, drooling around a gag. Perhaps I will regardless.”

“No! No, I’ll be good!” Desmond insisted, though he couldn’t stop his cock from twitching hopefully at the visual. Huh, so he had a bondage kink, who knew? Judging by the way Leonardo’s smirk turned downright devilish, he hadn’t missed Desmond’s sudden interest.

“Oh mio caro, I am going to have fun with you,” Leonardo promised, and then set to work. Desmond let out a series of deep moans as Leonardo began to suck and nibble and stroke what felt like every inch of his body, starting from his ears down to his toes and back up again, all the while bypassing the one area Desmond really wanted him. The moans turned to pathetic whimpers as Leonardo teased him into a frenzy, pinching nipples and tugging on his earlobes with his teeth, all the while leaving him untouched.

“Please! Please Leonardo!” he began begging when it felt like he would explode if he wasn’t touched soon. He was a mess, completely turned on, his cock leaking precome that dripped down to his balls.

“Please what?” Leonardo growled into his ear. Desmond didn’t think it was possible, but he somehow felt himself grow even harder at the sound of Leonardo practically purring into his ear. His breath hitched as Leonardo’s hand snaked across his hipbone, still not going to where he really needed it.

Desmond shook his head, unable to make out words through the haze of desire. He was panting openly, gulping down air by the lungful, eyes squeezed shut. “Please!” he repeated, “Oh God.”

“You must tell me what you want if you would like my help, Desmond.”

It was the sound of his name that allowed Desmond to find his words. His eyes snapped open, staring up at Leonardo imploringly, breath still hard and heavy. He struggled to focus, struggled to speak. “Please give me more,” he asked, blushing but refusing to look away. He was being tamed, not broken, and he needed to prove that to the older man.

Leonardo rewarded him with a deep and passionate kiss, tongue dancing along Desmond’s lips and then slipping inside. As they kissed, Leonardo’s hand finally snaked lower, brushing against Desmond’s cock for a split second. Desmond made a small sound into Leonardo’s mouth that swiftly became a curse when Leonardo didn’t stop there. Instead, his fingers began probing down, along Desmond’s balls, and then even further.

Desmond had slept with exactly one man in his life. There had been a brief fling when he had first started out as a bartender between him and one of his regulars, a young guy with too much money and time on his hands. But that had been a long time ago, and Desmond had only bottomed for him maybe twice. So when Leonardo’s fingers began to dip lower, he couldn’t stop himself from jerking away.

“Have you done this before?” Leonardo asked, stilling, but not moving his hand away.

Releasing a shaky breath, Desmond nodded. “A long time ago, though. I’m a little...rusty.”

But instead of laughing or teasing him like Desmond had expected, Leonardo just nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should take this a bit more slowly then. I had thought we would be finished before Ezio returned, but perhaps he can wait.”

“Oh shit,” Desmond cursed, arousal doused at the idea that a pissed-off Assassin might burst in on them at any moment. “I totally forgot, you guys are together...lovers, aren’t you? Isn’t he going to be pissed that you and I...?”

Leonardo chuckled softly. “He understands. We both have needs that sometimes the other cannot meet. He has his women, and I have other men.” As he spoke, he reached down and snatched up the lotion from where he had placed it on the floor.

“Sounds like you guys have a very open relationship,” Desmond commented quietly.

“Considering our lives, it seemed best. Besides, we know that despite whomever we share our beds with, it is each other that we truly love. That is enough for us.”

Desmond didn’t have time to think about that, because his mind went blank when Leonardo squirted a bit of the body lotion onto Desmond’s stomach and began trailing his fingers through it. “Hmmmn,” Leonardo hummed thoughtfully. “I believe this will do for our purposes. But first,” he grinned, coating his hand in the lotion, and then reaching down to wrap it firmly around Desmond’s cock, working it back to fullness.

Desmond let out a soft sigh as Leonardo finally set to work, his eyes slipping closed and his head thrown back. Leonardo worked his cock like a master, wringing soft noises out of Desmond’s mouth with every jerk of his fist, the lotion smoothing his motions. Desmond barely noticed when the other hand began rubbing at the lotion on his stomach, coating Leonardo’s other hand as well. He did, however, notice when that hand snuck down again between his legs.

He fought the urge to tense as the tip of a finger began pressing up into him. It was easier now with the lotion on Leonardo’s fingers and the distraction of the hand jerking him off. Leonardo kept his pace slow and even, just enough to keep Desmond relaxed and moaning, but not enough to get him off too soon. That would be later.

Desmond winced as a second finger breached him, but Leonardo didn’t rush him, making sure he was nice and relaxed before he went further. He recoated his fingers in the lotion often, so that by the time Desmond was well and truly stretched he felt like he was dripping with it. He’d never felt this stretched open before, and he marveled briefly at the feel of it.

By now he was practically squirming, dying for more stimulation, which Leonardo was denying him. He stared up through hooded eyes at the artist, trying to urge him on without speaking, but Leonardo seemed content to just watch him for a moment.

“Bello,” Leonardo murmured, lotion-slicked fingers once again trailing lightly over Desmond’s thighs. The hand on his cock fell away, reaching to pick up the lotion bottle once more. Leonardo quickly slicked himself up, never looking away from Desmond’s body, and then he pulled Desmond’s hips up to angle himself.

Desmond forced himself to relax as Leonardo started to slip into him, but he had been lubed so well and stretched so fully that there was barely any pain at all. In one smooth motion, Leonardo buried himself fully, stopping only when his balls pressed against Desmond’s ass. Desmond gasped at the stretch, the feeling of fullness he barely remembered. It wasn’t quite pleasure, but it felt good all the same.

Leonardo froze there for a moment, braced over Desmond’s body and watching his face carefully. “Are you alright?” he asked. The only sign of how much he must have been restraining himself was the slightest hitch in his voice.

Unable to breathe, let alone speak, Desmond could only nod. Leonardo paused for a second more, then seemed to decide that Desmond was honest. He began to move, bracing himself with one hand on Desmond’s hip and the other pressed into the mattress beside Desmond’s head. He pulled out slowly, almost to the point of falling out, and then shoved back in hard enough to make Desmond jerk back across the bed. Desmond made a punched-out noise, finally able to breathe again, and pulled Leonardo even closer by wrapping his legs around the artist’s hips, tugging on his restraints to give himself something to hang on to.

Leonardo seemed determined to drive him insane with the pace he set. He would start out slow and strong, thrusting hard enough that Desmond jerked under him with every stroke, and then speed up so quickly it made the bed shake, only to slow down again. No matter how much Desmond begged for him to just move faster, go deeper, Leonardo kept to his own pace. The only noises he made were soft grunts, his brow furrowed in concentration and his fingers digging into Desmond’s hips hard enough to leave marks. Desmond thrashed furiously, moving his hips to try and meet Leonardo’s thrusts, but the strong grip on his hips kept him from moving any more than Leonardo wanted him to. Between the restraints and Leonardo’s strength, he was completely pinned.

“Please,” Desmond gasped, pulling weakly on his bindings. “Leonardo, please. It’s not enough, I need more.”

Leonardo must have decided to take pity on Desmond, because he shifted. Grabbing Desmond’s ankles, he leant forward and pulled Desmond’s legs up until his knees were resting on Leonardo’s shoulders. The new angle brought Desmond’s hips up even higher, and Leonardo’s chest down to press against his. He began moving again, and this time he sank in so deep Desmond could feel it practically in his throat. His cock was trapped between them, rubbing against Leonardo’s stomach with every thrust. Desmond began crying out in earnest, finally getting what he needed.

“Ah, perfetto,” Leonardo gasped against Desmond’s ear, and then he bowed his head and began sucking on Desmond’s neck, moaning softly. Heat pooled in Desmond’s belly at the sound, coiling and building so quickly he barely had time to shout. His body arched up against Leonardo’s, and he came, splattering all over both of their chests.

He flopped down, panting and basking in the afterglow, barely noticing how Leonardo had paused for his orgasm. When he started up again, Desmond moaned softly, body still sensitized, but made no other attempt to stop him. It still felt so good. Leonardo was being impossibly gentle, rubbing a hand across Desmond’s hip as he rocked into his body, still moaning against his throat. When he finally came, it was with a soft sigh and a fluttering of his eyes.

Leonardo moved back slowly, pulling out and letting Desmond’s legs fall back to the bed with a groan. They disentangled slowly, almost too spent to move. Desmond didn’t even object when Leonardo moved away from the bed without untying him first. Leonardo returned shortly after with yet another piece of the tattered curtains that he used to clean them both up. Only then did he undo Desmond’s bonds.

Desmond stared down at the dark ring of bruises around his wrists. He hadn’t even realized he’d been pulling so hard on them. Further inspection revealed that he also had finger-shaped bruises on his hips, and he was pretty sure there was a decent hickey on his throat as well.

“I hope I wasn’t too rough with you,” Leonardo commented from across the room where he was gathering up his discarded clothes.

“Not at all,” Desmond reassured him. “I actually...really needed that,” he admitted, realizing the truth of his statement as soon as he said it. He hadn’t felt so relaxed, so relieved since...maybe since before Abstergo. He had needed it more than he could have ever known. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“Think nothing of it,” Leonardo told him. “I was happy to help. Now, I believe we may need to change the sheets.”

Glancing down at the damp bed, Desmond was forced to agree. They dressed half-heartedly, Desmond not even bothering with his shoes or hoodie, and then walked together back to the supply closet. They talked of simple things, mindful of the fact that they were from different times, not mentioning what had happened in the room earlier even once.

Once they had remade the bed, Desmond found himself staring longingly at it. He didn’t really feel like going back down to face the others, nor did he want to walk all the way back to his own room. He glanced at Leonardo, then, figuring he wouldn’t mind, just flopped down onto the mattress face-first.

Leonardo laughed at him, but made no other comment. Instead he brought the quilt up over Desmond’s body, tucking him in, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Sweet dreams, mio caro,” Leonardo murmured, and then he left the room. But by then Desmond was already asleep.

Fill: Steal All My Air [3/3]

(Anonymous) - 2012-06-21 02:08 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Steal All My Air [3/3]

(Anonymous) - 2012-06-25 00:01 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Steal All My Air [3/3]

(Anonymous) - 2012-08-14 04:09 (UTC) - Expand

Fill: The King's Honour 2 [Malik + Tazim Fluff]

(Anonymous) 2012-08-20 04:30 am (UTC)(link)
Prompt here:

As a note, which I forgot to put in the fill, my head canon is that, at the time that Tazim is 15 months old, Sef is 5 years old, and Darim is 7. It works a lot better for this than the canon thirty year gap in their ages.

Previous King's Honour here:

Masquerade, 1/1

(Anonymous) 2012-09-07 05:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Prompt: -- in which Ezio hides from the guards amidst a group of courtesans, and actually gets mistaken for a male courtesan by one of the guards who are looking for him.

Fill on LJ:
Part 1:
Part 2:

On AO3:

Fill: Breaking Free (3 Parts, Complete)

(Anonymous) 2012-11-25 03:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Prompt: Malik was captured in Jerusalem by Templar inquisitors and tortured for that he is a heretic (or whatever reason). Altair rescue would also be nice

Link to fill:

Forgetful Altair

(Anonymous) 2012-11-27 08:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Prompt and fill here:

Fill: To Sink into the Earth

(Anonymous) 2012-12-27 07:02 pm (UTC)(link)

In which Altair kills a guard and stops to reflect.


Fill: Eternity in the Hands

(Anonymous) 2013-01-20 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
Malik, Altair, and Abbas were children once. Malik drools, Altair pokes him in the eye. Umar and Faheem try to explain where babies come from. Abbas doesn't want to be naked. A common tree is made Holy by a lie, and Malik gives everything for a cup of snow. In which eternity passes quickly, fathers die, life is not fair, and Altair and Malik pick up the remnants of yesterday.



One word: Bathouses Fill "The Only Good thing about Venice"

(Anonymous) 2013-02-13 03:23 pm (UTC)(link)
"One word: Bathhouses (page 7. pt 3.
Driveby!Anon would like to add that bathhouses were not only liked in the Crusades-Middle East, but in Renaissance Italy as well.

Fun fact: At some point in history (late 15th century), the Florentine government advised bathhouse owners to allow young boys in. Bathhouses were pretty known as places that tempted sodomy. ;) "

Ezio was bent double over a basin pouring water over his hair. He could still smell the canal water in it.
Dios. Venice. What a stinking hole- one would think a place with canals for streets would smell better, but no, it only added it's own fetid, damp layer to the smell of a modern city.
Yes, the canals offered a near guaranteed soft place to land if a hasty retreat was needed, but given what it was like; he would prefur a hard retreat to a dip.
One dip, and he would smell like the canals for days.
And then, to top it off, their bathhouses were only open sometimes. What kind of a civilized place was this?
Their soap however, was wonderful; he suspected it had to be to make up for the water. He had imported vast quantities of it back to Monteriggoni for his mother and sister (and his own use when visiting) but had stopped when Claudia wrote and told him Mario had used it on his horse.

Sometimes he wondered what went on in his uncle's head.

Still, the soap was the only good thing about Venice...

Just as he started another rinse combing fingers through his hair, he heard the door open. His empty hand dropped from his hair to the fair side of the deep basin he was sitting in touching the handle of the knife he'd left there. He set it back when the intruder spoke

“Oh Mi Displace-”
Ezio flicked his hair up surprised.
The artist who had clearly wandered into the wrong bathing chamber, looked even more embarrassed, clutching a bundle of what was certainly a clean shirt to his chest.
Ezio, however smiled and waved the half filled pitcher of water in his hand. How could he have forgotten- Leonardo truly was the only good thing about Venice; (soap included) and he hadn't gotten a chance to go and see him yet. The artist closed the door behind him- but on what Ezio considered to be the right side of the door- the side with him on it.
“Fix the latch would you?” He'd thought he'd locked it- he was after all, if anonymous, somewhat exposed in this state.
“I didn't know you used this bathhouse.”
“I use several, as long as they are discrete-and this one came recommended. Though apparently the latches are not good.” Ezio smiled a big with a strung and squeased some water from his hair.
“There's a trick.” Leonardo explained,
“What, to open bathhouse latches, my friend I am surprised at you.” He gave a teazing smile, and stood up.
“No no, to close the ones here-” Leonardo dropped his clean shirt and waved his hands, cheeks bright red.
Ezio laughed, flapping his hand. “You know I do not mean anything by that.” He shook damp hair back, and gave Leonardo a only slightly damp hug. “Smell my hair, does it still smell like the canals to you?” He patted it, and Leonardo leaned forward and allowed how it did have a faint murky scent to it still. “Damn it I thought so. Here, take the tub, I am going to be scrubbing for a while yet it seems. Every damn time-” he sat back down in the shallow basin. “So I would appreciate the company, if you don't mind.”
“Not... really.” Leonardo watched the water slide over his friend's back for several moments, then shook himself. He had come here to bathe after all, and the water in the large tub in the middle of the room was still hot.
“I assume something has brought you to Venice?” Leonardo asked, stripping his clothes off and folding them neatly. It was a large tub; and he could only hope that Ezio had not engaged a courtesan to come and scrub his back- though if he had, chances are she would have been helping him with his hair.
“I certainly did not come to take the waters.”
Leonardo laughed.
“No, I suppose not.” He frowned he'd forgotten his soap.
“I would forget my own head if it weren't fastened on... I know I remember picking it up, I must have dropped it.”
“Dropped what?”
“My soap. There must be a way to prevent this kind of mishap. Perhaps if a cord was molded into it...”
Ezio gave a laugh.
“I was just thinking about soap when you came in. You can use mine.” He offered it to his friend. “I got it because it amused me. See it is molded and shaped like a saint*... or it was.” He looked at it sadly. “It was still good soap, so I used it and now it is shaped more like a pene.” He gave it a squease and grabbed it out of the air as it slipped from his fingers. “... I'm still not sure if that is sacrilegious or not.”
Leonardo hid his face in both hands, shaking with laughter.
Grazie, Ezio.”
“You always make me laugh.”
“I thought you were just naturally cheerfully.” He rubbed a lock of hair between his fingers and it made a strange noise.
“Why would you think that?” Leonardo was settled in the tub, but not relaxing, leaning forward.
“Well you always are when I'm around.”
“Think on that.”
“I'm nothing near that special.”
“All that and more.” Leonardo insisted, finally lifting his hands to accept the soap. He closed his hand around the assassin's wrist as well and gave a gentle tug. “Come now, don't let me chase you from your bath.”

It was a large tub, but it was still a close fit with both of them in it. Neither of them were small men, but they knew each other well.
“You smell much better now.” Leonardo commented, shifting his foot a bit, letting the ankle rest on Ezio's thigh. He gave the leg a pat with one hand and relaxed against the side of the tub.
“It's about time.” he sighed. “I would say 'never again' but every time I do, I end up back in the canals within days.”
“It's a wonder you haven't caught your death.”
“Well it's not that cold.”
“I wasn't talking about a chill.”
They both shuddered, and Leonardo picked up one of Ezio's feet, rubbing it thoughtfully. It felt good, until the touches lightened. His toes twitched.
“Aie- do not do that!”
Leonardo disregarded the request.
“Humans are amazing.” he said instead, tracing his hands over tendons and muscles. “All the the tiny bones and muscles in even such a small part of the body.” Ezio gave a little kick, and the entire tub jerked, the misshapen soap tumbling from it's precarious perch on the edge of the tub and falling into the water with a splash. He scrabbled after it and his hand closed around something about the right shape.
“... that's not the soap.” Ezio managed to find it, and passed it off awkwardly. Leonardo didn't bother apologizing, looking at him thoughtfully, and he shifted in place, letting his foot rub across the assassin's groin. He stiffened, looking at Leonardo with the same expression of wary anticipation. He gave another rub, and didn't break eye contact. Behind his bright eyes, he calculated risks, betrayal, danger- and desire.

Ezio couldn't betray him- not for this; his secrets were much more dire- not that Leonardo would betray that trust, no matter what. By his own creed, he had no reason to shy, and the affection between them was stronger than any he'd known in any way. God how he wanted this; but he didn't want to hurt what they had. How far could he go, and play it off as an accident or misinterpretation? What could happen under the cover of the bathwater to be forgotten when they left the room? Then Ezio shifted into the caress, and there was something more than a bodily reaction. Neither of them spoke, but their breath quickened, eyes still locked.

Ezio broke first, sliding forward straddling the artist's leg and pinning him to the side of the tub. Leonardo's arms went around him, sliding over damp planes of muscle, as their chests pressed together. Hands cupped his face and dark amber eyes were staring into his much closer. Neither of them said anything, he held Ezio against him their groins pressed together, aroused and flushed from the warmth of the bathwater.
Thumbs stroked over his cheeks, and this time, he lost his patience, closing the distance to kiss him on the lips. It was intended to be testing, to be gentle but that failed as his lips parted of their own accord, stubble against his lips. Ezio tasted like he smelled- of leather and sweat, and the faint tinge of metal. The faint sounds of pleasure were drowned out by the sloshing of water as they pressed against each other, rocking the deep wooden tub. Leonardo pressed against the floor of the tub pressing up even as Ezio pressed down, rocking and rutting against one another as they kissed.

Coming apart for a moment, Leonardo gasped for air, hand sliding down over Ezio's chest. He inhaled as if to say something and Leonardo shook his head, pressing their lips together again, hand continuing down and stroking hot aroused flesh, pressing their erections together. Ezio gasped in sudden pleasure, and Leonardo kissed him firmly, tongue sliding into his mouth. Better to keep the upper hand for now. He felt a hand in his hair, but while it pulled it only seemed in eagerness to get closer. Ezio's other hand clutched at the edge of the tub for leverage to rock them bodily against each other.

For Ezio it was a sudden and not unwelcome surprise, and he reveled in the contact with his closest- and suddenly most intimate- friend. But he could not help but gasp into his mouth at the deft touch of his hand. The sensation of their erections rubbing together was unfamiliar and delightful. The texture of his lips was different than a woman's and the rasp of his beard was titillating. Though not the warrior that Ezio himself was but his chest was muscled, and had a decent covering of hair- and below that freckles like the ones on his face. Managing to tear his lips away, he mouthed over the fair skin, enjoying the taste of freshly washed skin and the gasps and moans it produced. It was so intense, and different, he found himself unable to hold on under Leonardo's clever hand and accompanying heat. Limply he collapsed, half embarrassed, and let Leonardo rub his back soothingly, face pressed to his neck. After a few moments he realized that his friend had not found his own release, his erection still pressing against Ezio's upper thigh.
He sat up a bit, hand still resting on Leonardo's chest. It slid down, only to be stopped inches from the goal he sought, half-obscured by the water.
“You don't have to.” Leonardo murmured, rubbing his thumb along Ezio's hand. There would be time to talk about this later, he suspected.
“No, I don't.” he shifted a bit, straddling Leonadro's lap, not finding the position he wanted he managed to reverse their positions- though through the sacrifice of a wave of water over the edge of the tub. Like this he managed to clasp Leonardo's flushed erection between his thighs, giving an experimental squeeze, which made the blond gasp and roll his hips forward.
“What? Where did you-”
“You learn a great many things if you pay attention.” he assured his friend and cupped the back of his head drawing him into another heated kiss before he thought too much about it, his other hand reaching around to grab a hold of Leonardo's ass and urge him to move as he'd like.
The friction, perhaps combined with heated kisses was enough to but fire in his gut, though not quite enough to get him hard again, though he still had trills of pleasure at the sweep of hands. Being made love to was a different experience. It didn't last that much longer and he held tight as Leonardo came to a crashing finish, collapsing against him, limp in the cooling water.

Now they were not moving Ezio realized how much of the bath had slopped on the floor in their exertions, and in fact how cool the water was getting- barely warmer than a sun warmed river. Still... he rubbed his hand up Leonardo's pine and tangled puny fingers in his hair, holding him close, and being held in return. Leonardo might be the best thing about Venice... but he definitely had something else to look forward to on further visits!

*soap shaped like saints was a thing... in Spain. Since I knew that tidbit, I had to put it in.

Re: One word: Bathouses Fill "The Only Good thing about Venice"

(Anonymous) 2014-11-12 09:09 pm (UTC)(link)
love it! especially the bit with the soap ;)

Subject 18

(Anonymous) 2013-02-21 07:06 am (UTC)(link)
Original prompt can be found here:

Anon's going to ask for one that's recently been breaking her little brain. Lucy and Co rescue another subject from Abstergo, one that's causing Desmond/Altair to practically flip their combined top. Why? While subject 18 (Or whatever number Anon likes) looks somewhat like Malik, acts somewhat like Malik, and has been, up until 18's rescue, being used to go through Malik's memories, there's one big difference. 18's a young woman, and the conflict of seeing someone acting so much like his former lover, even crooning in Arabic at him, who is definitely female has pretty much broken the Altair part of Desmond's mind. Bonus if writer Anon somehow works this into a Desmond/Shaun/OC threesome, with OC snarkily referring to Shaun as 'English' throughout the whole thing. *Slinks off to hide in a corner.*


Alright, so I'm not the original Writer!Anon, but I really enjoy creating and writing OCs so I'm going to give this a shot even though Old!Prompt is old. Well, here ends my kink meme virginity. XP

All you did 1/?

(Anonymous) 2013-02-21 07:10 am (UTC)(link)
The Abstergo Industries Corporate Building was dark and silent in the early hours of the morning. Even the triangular logo hung dark over the city street, where all other logos shone brightly into the night, signaling that Rebecca's little stunt with the power had worked.

Desmond entered the building, cautious still. He knew better than to believe that it would be left unguarded even at this hour and made his way up the stairs at the other end of the ground floor. He needed to make his way to the fourth floor where the animus was located. He entered the second floor hallway, looking for the stairs to the third floor, and noticed, to his dismay, that the door locks seemed to still be operational. They must have been on some sort of back up.

This was somewhere Desmond had hoped never to find himself again, but unfortunately that just wasn't meant to be. The animus 2.0 had been fiddly lately, and when Rebecca had attempted to find information on the animus through Abstergo's expansive computer system, the search had come up empty. Without some sort or repair it was to risky to use the machine at all, and as such, Desmond's research, and training, had come to an abrupt hault.

After a lot of bickering and 'what ifs' it was finally decided that Desmond should go and hunt down hard copies of information, that Abstergo had to have hidden. Desmond's theory was, where better to store information about the animus than with the animus.

Desmond reached up to the ear piece that was keeping him in touch with the rest of the team. "There's a problem." He said quietly. "The locks seem to be on a back up. They're all still engaged."

There was silence from the other end of the line, that seemed to go on forever, and made Desmond nervous, before finally Lucy's voice chimed in. "Don't worry. Becca will unlock the doors as you need them.

Desmond nodded, even though the others couldn't see him. "I'm going to the animus room first. Vidic seems like a bit of a control freak. I don't see why he wouldn't keep that stuff close."

"Good call." Lucy said, "If it's not there you'll have to check the labs, which are higher up anyway."

"Yeah great." He was taking the stairs two at a time now. "Did I ever tell you I hate stairs?"

"Focus Desmond."

Desmond sighed, coming across the sign telling that it was the fourth floor. He glanced both ways down the hall, before deciding it was clear, and emerging, for a better look. It wasn't hard to find a more familiar part of the floor, and it was only a moment before Rebecca had the doors unlocked for him.

When Desmond stepped into the all too familiar room, he almost thought that alarms were going to blare, and he was suddenly going to have the whole Templar army trying to kill him, but when the doors slid shut behind him with a soft hum, and a click and still nothing happened, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. This assassin business was nerve wracking.

He scanned the room briefly, everything was just as he remembered. His eyes fell upon the animus, which hummed softly, the glow of it's lights casting the area nearby and the figure upon it in an eerie glow. Desmond's eyes widened. How long had they been in there for?

He rushed over to the machine, concerned for their well being. He knew what just short exposures could do, and didn't want to think of the worst outcome for this newest subject. He shook the thought of subject 16 from his mind, and read over the screen attached to the Animus.

Safe mode.

"Guys they've got another person in the animus," He finally took a good look at the figure. "A young woman. It says it's in safe mode."

"Don't touch anything." Lucy was quick to respond. "I'll have Becca work something out. We don't know what just pulling her out would do."

"I'll check the area while she does that then. It shouldn't take long."

He checked Vidic's desk first, and found nothing. It wasn't surprising, he didn't think it would be quite that easy, and began to look around the room for other places where things could be stored. It took longer than he'd expected it too, and was ready to give up when he saw something shimmer out of the corner of his eyes. The moonlight must have just caught it the right way.

Hidden away, up off the ground, and behind a very solid looking shelf, appeared to be a knob of some sort. He shoved the shelf out of the way, and opened the small compartment. Inside were three disks, and a small package of papers.

"I think I've got something."

"Good." Lucy said. "Rebecca's worked out a sequence that should take the animus out of safe mode and wake up the subject."

"Yeah. Just give me a minute to tuck these things away."

After fiddling with the items he'd found behind the shelf, and of course putting the shelf back, he made his way over to the animus. He tried to keep up with Rebecca's instructions but when he finished the sequence, and nothing seemed to happen he was worried he'd done something wrong. After a moment though, the screen changed from blue, to black, and he managed to read 'Aborting safe mode. Waking subject.' before it switched to. 'Closing down'.

He watched closely as the girl's eyes slowly drifted open. She stared up at him for a long moment, and he couldn't help thinking that he should recognize those eyes.

With a sudden alertness, that had Desmond jumping back in shock, the girl clambered from the machine so quickly he was honestly surprised she didn't fall. She glared at him now, before yelling in...

Was that Arabic?

It hit him then like a brick, as the part of him that would forever be connected to Altair tried to decide if it should be happy, or cower. He remembered those eyes now, that short dark hair, and the way only the right arm flailed about animatedly.

Even if she did have both arms.

Desmond was just stepping forward to try and calm the girl, or the bleeding effect, or whatever this was, when her words seemed to slow, and she tottered on her feet. Desmond rushed to the other side of the animus and managed to catch her before she could hit her head as she fell.

"Guys, we have another problem." Desmond said. "She just passed out after suffering the bleeding effect."

"The bleeding effect?" Lucy questioned. "But it hasn't been that long. How much time have they had her spending in there?"

"I don't know," He sighed, "But I do know one thing. She thought she was Malik."

Giovanni is best assassin father

(Anonymous) 2013-02-22 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
Giovanni has to be my favorite character in the AC games, aside from the main protags and a few side characters, simply because he stands out. He manages the art of being an assassin and being a father without letting anyone sans his wife know what he is. Now that, ladies and gents, takes dedication.

So I need a h/c fluff fic that involves the two coming together. You know in the game, how Giovanni is hung before he can tell Ezio how to be an assassin. He gives him his cloak and his dagger, but not the lessons that undoubtedly would have come if he were alive. The wiki reports he was training Federico in the arts (secretly of course) and was fixing to get to Ezio before he died.

So! We're going to turn back the clock and prevent the hanging that gets in the way of all that fluff. Here's the situation. Ezio's Eagle Vision comes in his early teens, rather than from birth. In my mind, receiving the Eagle Vision is a very terrifying thing because of the amount of pain and suffering involve. Hallucinations, headaches, extreme sensitivity to light, full-body fever, you name it. Ezio hits his fourteenth birthday and is suddenly in a lot of pain, and Gio is away on business. Maria calls him back, citing that Ezio's "time" has come, and Gio freeruns his ass as fast as he can back home to his distraught child, who has no idea the story he's in for. Ezio's early receiving of the EV gives Gio more time to train him on how to be an assassin, which means that when Gio and his brothers are made to hang, Ezio has more than enough exp. to save them.

Basically: Ezio gets his Eagle Vision, and learns about what his family does from Gio. Ezio is trained by Gio and manages to save his father and brothers from being hung.

Also, bonus points if older brother Federico is the one who discovers Ezio's pain and subsequently panics because he wants to take care of Ezio but doesn't know how. More points if he's there for the explanation about their assassin heritage and knows more than he lets on.

((Filling this puppy at:

Chapter 1 of Eaglet is already up!))

Fill: Ezio/Leo Omegaverse - anything goes

(Anonymous) 2013-02-24 05:31 am (UTC)(link)
Okay, so I have seen Haytham/Connor and Altair/Malik omega!verses but I have never seen one for Ezio/Leo. I will always have a weak-spot for the two and would love to see them in this sort of setting. It can be period appropriate or modern AU. Hell, throw in Cesare if you want. Or add the rest of the gang. I just was some angsty dark sex with Ezio as an alpha. If this gets filled, you have made the day of a flu-ridden girl. Not to guilt anyone of course...


Fill: A Lesson in Respect [ConHayth Art prompt]

(Anonymous) 2013-03-06 04:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Give me something, ANYTHING, based on this; /


Can also be found on AO3 here:

Giovanni is best assassin father

(Anonymous) 2013-04-13 04:53 am (UTC)(link)
I am going to finish this fic I swear. I posted part 3 and I'm gonna keep typing. This prompt shall be done!


Giovanni has to be my favorite character in the AC games, aside from the main protags and a few side characters, simply because he stands out. He manages the art of being an assassin and being a father without letting anyone sans his wife know what he is. Now that, ladies and gents, takes dedication.

So I need a h/c fluff fic that involves the two coming together. You know in the game, how Giovanni is hung before he can tell Ezio how to be an assassin. He gives him his cloak and his dagger, but not the lessons that undoubtedly would have come if he were alive. The wiki reports he was training Federico in the arts (secretly of course) and was fixing to get to Ezio before he died.

So! We're going to turn back the clock and prevent the hanging that gets in the way of all that fluff. Here's the situation. Ezio's Eagle Vision comes in his early teens, rather than from birth. In my mind, receiving the Eagle Vision is a very terrifying thing because of the amount of pain and suffering involve. Hallucinations, headaches, extreme sensitivity to light, full-body fever, you name it. Ezio hits his fourteenth birthday and is suddenly in a lot of pain, and Gio is away on business. Maria calls him back, citing that Ezio's "time" has come, and Gio freeruns his ass as fast as he can back home to his distraught child, who has no idea the story he's in for. Ezio's early receiving of the EV gives Gio more time to train him on how to be an assassin, which means that when Gio and his brothers are made to hang, Ezio has more than enough exp. to save them.

Basically: Ezio gets his Eagle Vision, and learns about what his family does from Gio. Ezio is trained by Gio and manages to save his father and brothers from being hung.

Also, bonus points if older brother Federico is the one who discovers Ezio's pain and subsequently panics because he wants to take care of Ezio but doesn't know how. More points if he's there for the explanation about their assassin heritage and knows more than he lets on.

Kanen'to:kon/Haytham smut

(Anonymous) 2013-04-28 08:09 pm (UTC)(link)
I know this is silly but I want a smut were Kanen'to:kon asks Haytham to train him so he can be good as his best friend Connor and not feel like the weak one and haytham agrees to help him. Later on they get a little close and end up hooking up

Bouns if.....
Haytham top and kanen'to:kon bottom
Haytham become obsessive over him (e.g leaving hickeys to mark him his)
Kane'to:kon kissed him first
Rough sex

Fill: Daughter of none

(Anonymous) 2013-04-29 04:58 am (UTC)(link)
Original prompt:

Still Badass

Still Badass,
Still Dangerous,
Still Distracting. (Breasts + Hormonal Teenage Novices = ... *bitch-slapping*)
Just less arrogant...
and more flexible...

... If you make Altair an instructor I will have your children.

Most asked for pairing(s): Rauf/Altair or just Crushing!Novices/Altair...

Please understand that this isn't because I want Altair to be all girly. Despite his hips. But because the only female who can kick ass in AC is Maria... And even then she doesn't do a lot of fighting...

Original Prompt:

Fill: Daughter of none [1/?]

(Anonymous) 2013-04-29 04:59 am (UTC)(link)
Altaïr bint-La'Ahad stood with lowered eyes before her master, glaring at his desk. In the corners of her vision wisps of incense swirled upon the breeze. The sun was low, obscured behind thick cloud burnished red in the evening, giving the airy halls of Masyaf an eerie glow. In her current furious state, it reminded her of a haze of blood.

"Pull back your hood, girl," said Al Mualim, and she obeyed without shifting her eyes, still staring at the solid wood of his desk. Her heart still pounded, her fists clenched with anger that showed no sign of abating.

It always happened this way - whether the fight initiated by an insult, a slight against her virtue, a sly pinch in the hallway that compelled her to defend her honour with fists and feet. Or, like this time, her refusal to watch near full-grown men bully a younger boy. Whatever it was, Altaïr knew that it would be her to end up before Al Mualim. She should accept it.

Altaïr felt her palms slippery with blood and sweat, the sting of salt on skin scraped raw. Gradually she calmed herself, digging her fingernails in to her own skin to focus the pain more sharply.

Al Mualim rose from his chair, palms flat on his desk. Altaïr kept still as he reached to lift her chin. She kept her gaze fixed on the open window behind him as he tilted her chin this way and that, examining her split lip, the graze across one high cheekbone, the swollen bridge of her nose, the smear of crusted blood across her upper lip.

"Who has done this?" He demanded.

Altaïr was silent. She would not lie to her master, but nor did she have any intention of revealing names of her Brothers however much she despised Abbas and Daoud and their bullying friends. She might be merely a female among them but she had as much honour as they did. More. Any decent person would be ashamed to behave as they did, singling out smaller and younger boys to terrorise them.

Besides, Al Mualim would learn about the fight soon enough from the physicians. By now, Abbas and Daoud were already in the infirmary. She wondered with a suppressed smirk if Abbas had yet regained consciousness, and if Daoud would be able to walk tomorrow.

"Wipe that insolent expression off your face," ordered Al Mualim, slapping a hand on his desk. His irritation grew when Altaïr did not twitch at the noise but merely brought her attention calmly back to him. "Your sex does not spare you any discipline among our ranks. Don't think I won't have you beaten like any of the boys."

She straightened her mouth and tried to manage an expression more respectful than her usual glare. She well knew Al Mualim's discipline and though she had never in her life feared something as inconsequential as a beating, of course no one in their right mind desired it.

"Your hands, child."

She held them out for him to see, without hesitation, though the wound on her left hand - of her third finger amputated not two days ago - ached and stung anew with its dressing scraped off, caked with dirt and blood.

As she had expected Al Mualim took her hands roughly with little care for her wounds. Altaïr did not flinch.

He turned her hands, taking in the bloodied mess of her left hand, and the skinned knuckles of her right, the scraped raw palms filthy with embedded dirt.

"Answer me, Altaïr. With whom did you fight?"

She met his eyes mutely with a brief flash of defiance, and Al Mualim dropped her hands with narrowed eyes and a mixture of irritation and grudging acknowledgement.

It was at least a sign of loyalty when one student refused to turn in another for misdeeds. In his experience, only a weak-minded youth preferred the contempt of his peers to the wrath of his master and the pain of a thrashing. And he was reminded continually that Altaïr, despite her sex, was not weak-minded.

"Fool of a girl," he muttered. "Go to the infirmary and get that hand seen to. Find out how long your training with the hidden blade will now have to wait."

That, at last, made her sink inside. It must have shown on her face, as Al Mualim gave a soft pah of derision. Then he turned to the window dismissing her. "I will order your punishment when I decide what it is to be. Go."

"Yes, Master." Altaïr bowed her head in submission and respect as although his back was turned, he would know if she did not. She padded from his study on feet kept silent from habit that had become equivalent to instinct.

In the courtyard Qasim was waiting for her, leaning against the wall. He looked mostly unharmed from his encounter with Abbas and his friends. Certainly he had fared better than Altaïr herself.

Though her first impulse was to walk past ignoring him, she stopped at his worried expression, so out of character with his normal cheeky grin.

He said nothing and his face darkened with an odd expression Altaïr could not read. She supposed he was humiliated at being defended by a girl. Qasim's talents leaned more to stealth and subterfuge than to open combat. His quick wit and sharp tongue plunged him into trouble as often as Altaïr's temper did for herself. Small, dark-haired and bright-eyed, he could move more silently than anyone Altaïr knew, climbed like a cat and had a memory for names, dates, places and shifting politics that would someday rival Al Mualim's. But none of those qualities helped him when set upon in the courtyard by three men bigger than him, and he had been on the ground within seconds.

"Did Abbas tear out your tongue at last?" she said as Qasim simply stared at her seemingly unable to speak.

His face fell in dismay and he looked away. "I - hope you won't be punished on my account. That's all I wanted to say." Evidently that wasn't all, though, and he opened his mouth again, hesitated, and stammered - "And you - it was a sight to see. The fight, I mean."

A brief wave of remorse washed over her at her earlier assumption. Qasim was hardly ashamed of receiving her help, in fact his tone was admiring. But she only shrugged. "Whatever the punishment, I will survive it."

"Oh, I know -" Qasim said, and flushed. But she was already stalking away to the infirmary, glaring at the dirt under her feet.


"Through here," snapped old Yazid the physician as Altaïr entered the infirmary. He showed her to a small room that looked more like a cleaned-out store cupboard, despite the small cot set up in a corner. "I don't want any more trouble from you or Abbas, so you'll stay well away from each other. Sit on the bed." He set up his equipment, muttering in his cantankerous way but there was no real anger in his voice. His hands were deft and gentle as he washed Altaïr's bloodied hands with warm water.

"Assassins," Yazid grumbled as he delicately brushed embedded dirt from her palms with the corner of a clean cloth. "The lot of you are fools with your honour and your pride. This will hurt." He poured something sharp-smelling on another cloth, folded it, and held it lightly over the wound of Altaïr's missing finger. The searing sting felt like fire. It almost hurt worse than losing the finger had, and she breathed deeply, embracing the pain, accepting it as she had been taught. Yazid grunted approval as she kept perfectly still.

"Hmph. At least you make good patients. Just as well, seeing how often you all end up here. And I have to manage with two assistants and a stupid boy who can't even boil rags without burning himself and making more work for me. You would think I would complain, but I don't." He glared at her. "You didn't ask, my girl, but I will tell you anyway. Abbas is awake."

What a shame, Altaïr thought, but said nothing.

"And it turns out that Daoud is not badly hurt, although you gave him a fine kick to his knee. The other one, can't remember his name -"

"Umar," she supplied darkly, but Yazid was not listening.

"- but who cares. He has not shown his face, so I can only assume he has not suffered some debilitating harm. But I expect I will see you back here to treat you for a flogging, anyway. Pah! Assassins!" He squeezed water from the bloodied cloths and tossed them into a basket, the gesture containing all his contempt for the ways of her order. Altaïr would have been insulted if she hadn't liked Yazid so much.

"Ah. Before I forget." He tossed a neat package beside her on the bed - a supply of clean, folded rags. Altaïr flushed with her usual humiliation at any reference to her body's strange needs. But Yazid in his usual practical, impatient way had already moved his attention to other things. "Take these off," he said, tweaking impersonally at her stiff cotton robes. "And don't be silly about it, girl! If you have other injuries I know you will not tell me about them, so it is your own foolish fault. Quickly, I do not have all night. Move your arm and let me see those ribs..."

With a sigh, she submitted to Yazid's examination, the sound of his irritated, half-affectionate prattle rather comforting.

Despite deciding there was nothing really the matter with her, Yazid kept her in the infirmary until morning. It was a welcome break from the barracks, where the men gossiped as much as the huriyah in the garden, although with less giggling and more bragging.

Fill: Daughter of none [2/?]

(Anonymous) - 2013-04-29 05:00 (UTC) - Expand

Fill: Daughter of none [3/?]

(Anonymous) - 2013-04-29 05:02 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Daughter of none [3/?]

(Anonymous) - 2013-05-02 22:02 (UTC) - Expand


(Anonymous) 2013-04-29 05:25 pm (UTC)(link)
I think Kane'to:kon and Alsoomese would make a cute couple so what if one night they hooked up:

Someone PLZ PLZ PLZ fill this it would mean the world to me :D

Re: Kane'to:kon/Alsoomese

(Anonymous) 2013-04-29 09:41 pm (UTC)(link)
This feels like a prompt post, and this'd be in the wrong section if so. (The mod hasn't posted part 6 yet...usually we have a period of "waiting" so people are encouraged to fill current prompts.)


(Anonymous) 2013-04-29 08:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Connor ends up dreaming about having sex with Ezio or did he?

Re: Ezio/Connor

(Anonymous) 2013-04-29 09:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Is this a fill post? Because it feels like a prompt post, and this'd be in the wrong section if so. (The mod hasn't posted part 6 yet...usually we have a period of "waiting" so people are encouraged to fill.)

Altair/Connor/Ezio threesome

(Anonymous) 2013-04-29 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)
Connor wakes up to find himself naked in bed but that's not all the waked up with a naked Ezio on one side and an naked Altair on the other

!virgin! Connor
And when Connor wakes up he cries a little as he is in shock

Fill Altair/Connor/Ezio threesome

(Anonymous) 2013-04-29 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Connor woke up feeling slightly cold on his skin were goosebumps formed. He also felt sandwiched in the double bed he normally sleeps in. He felt like he was inbertween two people when he looked be was Ezio and Altair? How? He thought.

Connor pulled the covers to look under and he was naked! Suddenly the two assassins started to wake up "good morning" said Altair. Connor gripped at the bed sheets to cover himself "where am I?" asked Connor as tears started to stream down his face.

"your in your room" responded Ezio as he started to kiss up and down Connor's right arm Connor started to feel really uncomfterble from the touching he was getting by the two assassins. "whats going on?" asked Connor still tears falling down his eyes as Altair's face was close to his "were welcoming you to the brotherhood" whispered Altair. Suddenly his soft lips touched Connors.

"just relax Connor" whispered Ezio into Connors ear Connor gripped onto the bed sheets "just let go Connor" whispered Altair "we will take care of you".

Suddenly Connor loosened his grip on the sheets and Ezio pulled the sheets off him which made Connor even cold "bella (beautiful)" he whispered as he trailed his fingers over Connors crotch his fingertips ghostly leaving trails.
Connor started to feel suddenly warm as he was starting to produce a lot of heat.

Altair sat behind Connor and rested Connor's head on his sholder but facing Ezio.
Ezio leaded down so his face was to Connors cock he grabbed it and kissed the tip. Connor gasped in shock as he felt weird tingles of pleasure hit him Ezio then put Connors cock into his mouth and started to suck now moans were being ripped from Connor's throat "has anyone ever done this to you before?" asked Altair.
"no" moaned Connor "feels good dosent it" whispered Altair as he started gently sucking on Connor's earlobe. Connor nodded his head as Ezio continued sucking Connor started bucking his hips slightly and suddenly Ezio stopped which made Connor whine with protest.

"someone's eager" chuckled Ezio, "of course he is besides Connor is a virgin" responded Altair. Ezio leaned in and kissed Connor passionately "time to prepare you" whispered Ezio to his lips.
"I'll prepare him and you can take him" said Altair and Ezio and Altair swaped places Ezio rummaged through Connor's bag to find some oil and threw it to Altair. "ready?" asked Altair.
Connor nodded his head but wished what he was going to do "just relax" he whispered as he entered a finger into him.

Suddenly Connor woke up in shock he looked and there was no Ezio or Altair next to him and he looked under the sheets he wasn't naked only had his shirt off but he felt flustered from the dream he had just had. He looked out the window and it was still dark he couldent get back to sleep after the heat he produced from the dream he needed a cold bath he thought.

"Caterina... did they...?" [1/2]

(Anonymous) 2013-05-07 06:53 am (UTC)(link)
Old prompt is old. Late fill is late. Apologetic procrastinating anon is apologetic and procrastinating.

Original prompt:

"Caterina... did they...?"
2011-01-26 05:13 am UTC (link)

I'm replaying Brotherhood and I just got to the part where Ezio saves Caterina.

Ezio is sweet and awesome and rescues her!! Then she just leaves and Ezio's like, "Wait, WTF?!" And... we never see her again.

I love Caterina and this just seems like such a pitiful end for such an awesome lady.

Could Anon come up with some good ol' Ezio/Caterina h/c to satisfy my kink/craving/whatever?

Welp, the prompt was for h/c and I am not actually sure whether this fits it. However, I love Caterina so much and was seriously pissed with how the game treated her, basically just pretending that she was never raped, when IRL it did happen. I was also totally pissed with how the book handled it. And I think she is awesome and badly wanted her to stay in the game. So I wrote this fill.


In her dingy cell in the Castel Sant-Angelo, Caterina Sforza woke to the sound of men arguing. One was young, his voice strained tight with anger; the other middle-aged, quiet and contemptuous. Cesare and Rodrigo Borgia. Caterina's stomach sank with dread as they approached. She had been expecting them.

Caterina had resolved from the moment of her capture at Monteriggioni that she would not allow Cesare to make her scream, or cry. She stood up, her face calm, fighting to remain expressionless; but she knew her eyes would betray her fury.

Ezio, she thought. I know you are coming. But you are too late.

In swept Cesare, tall and imposing. Rodrigo followed him, fat and shuffling. Cesare unlocked Caterina's cell and looked her over. As she had expected, he saw the suppressed anger in her eyes and smirked.

"Good evening, Contessa Sforza." Cesare bowed with mock gallantry. "I thought it was time I paid a visit to an honoured guest - but on the way, I remembered you." He reached for her hand. It took all of Caterina's self-control, but she calmly let him lift it and kiss the backs of her fingers. She forced herself not to shudder.

"The Pope has accompanied me, at his insistence," said Cesare, indicating his father with a sweeping gesture. "I believe he intends to prevent me from killing you."

Rodrigo ignored her, his fat face unreadable.

"You made your first mistake at Forli, Contessa," Cesare said, "when you conspired with the Assassini and took up arms beside them. But that was only one of your many mistakes." He took both of her hands and stood looming over her, narrowed eyes staring into hers. "You must regret whoring yourself to Ezio Auditore." He laid one hand on her hip and drew her close.

Caterina forced herself to breathe evenly as Cesare's lips traced an eyebrow, then a cheekbone. His thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. "Is that the way women conduct politics? If so, your time with me will be a mere shift in alliances."

"Nothing to say?" He smirked. "This silence is a talent I did not know you possessed, Contessa. It suits you well. You know, I may yet forgive you all of these errors, Caterina. You may come out of this dungeon, any time you wish." Cesare's tone was sickeningly courteous. "It does get cold in here at night. If you prefer to spend your nights warm and comfortable in my chambers, you have only to say the word."

Caterina's eyes answered for her, despite her efforts to control her hatred. Cesare laughed, and turned to Rodrigo.

"She reminds me of my favourite horse when I was a boy."

Rodrigo sighed. "I remember that horse, Cesare. I gave her to you."

"So you did, Father. Do you want to know what happened to my horse, Contessa?" Cesare continued. "I don't expect you do. I'll tell you anyway."

"Stop playing games," said Rodrigo. "We do not have all night. Do what you want to do, or I will have her first."

"Come back later if you don't want to wait your turn," Cesare said, and Rodrigo let his son's insolence pass.

Cesare leaned in close to her face. Caterina met his eyes without a trace of fear.

"That horse despised me - I cannot think why - and every day she fought me. Many times she threw me. As I grew older, stronger, I bent her to my will. But I never managed to break her. I could ride her into the ground, and still she would stamp and snort and glare at me with eyes full of fire and hate. She fought me every day of her life. Until, one day, I rode her so hard that she dropped dead beneath me."

Caterina's expression did not change.

"I believe you are very much like that horse, Caterina Sforza," Cesare said. He laughed and cupped her chin. "Look at you; you might be an old brood mare, but you are still one of the handsomest and most spirited women I have ever met." He bent to kiss her mouth. Then he swore and pushed her away, blood trickling from his lower lip where she had bitten him.

Caterina spat his blood on the floor and broke her silence at last. "Cowardly pezzo di merda, do you think I am Lucrezia, to simper and smile while you fuck me? You foolish little boy - your horse had more sense than your puttana sister -"

The rest of what she had to say was cut off as Cesare backhanded her across her mouth. Her head snapped sideways and pain rang through her neck and jaw. Half-blinded, she rounded on him and slapped his face as hard as she could. Cesare shook his head, stunned. The blow could not really have hurt him; but he had not been expecting her to strike him back, and the surprise on his face gave her some satisfaction.

"Perhaps you need me to hold her down for you, Cesare," Rodrigo said, bored.

"No! I don't need you for anything. Leave me alone." Cesare wiped his mouth and flicked blood from his fingers in disgust. He drew his sword and held it to Caterina's face. "Your filthy mouth is no match for my blade, Contessa," said Cesare. "Let's see how spirited you are now."


Caterina had lost track of time. Days and nights blurred together in her lightless cell. She lay on the floor and tried to think of nothing.

She ached all over, but right now the pain was worst in her hip. How she had grown to despise Lucrezia Borgia over the last few days! Cesare had obviously told her what he had done - and the pathetic little wretch had come to beat her with an iron bar, jealousy giving her strength Caterina had not expected from her scrawny frame.

The contessa was dozing when she heard footsteps approaching, and shuddered. Not again. She could not bear it again.

But something was different this time. The footsteps were those of a man in armor; probably a man of around Cesare's height and weight. But whoever he was, his steps had a wary edge to them, as though they belonged to someone with no right to be where he was.

Ezio! It must be!

As hope kindled in her for the first time in so long, she stood, and composed herself. Bad enough that Ezio should see her filthy in tattered undergarments - but she would not have him see her weak.


Ezio's hands sought hers through the bars of her cell. His face was sleepless and careworn, his eyes hollow. He looked at Caterina with searching, desperate eyes, and his hands gripped her own so hard it hurt. She felt a twinge of satisfaction at the evidence of how he had suffered through the past weeks, although none of this was truly his fault.

"Get me out of here, Ezio!" she said. "Lucrezia has the key - the little bitch - you'll find her in her courtyard. Be careful, Ezio. She has her guards with her."

"Her guards will be no trouble for me," he said. "Stay where you are." They kissed quickly through the bars.

"Where else would I go!" she hissed after him. But when his back retreated, jogging lightly down the hallway, her bravado faded and she slumped against the cell wall, shaking. Come back to me quickly, Ezio, she prayed. I won't last here much longer.

Good as his word, Ezio returned - and to Caterina's amazement, he thrust Lucrezia before him with an arm twisted behind her back. His face was flushed with embarrassment, and she realized he had been too much the gentleman to search her. It was more respect than she deserved.

And Caterina had no such qualms. "Bring her over here," she demanded.

"Put me down, you oaf," Lucrezia said, struggling in great indignation as Ezio shoved her towards the cell. "Cesare will kill you both, and I will - ugh! Get your filthy hands off me! Puttana-"

Lucrezia's eyes met Caterina's, full of hate. Caterina wished she could find it in herself to pity the woman. Envious for the disgusting attentions of Cesare Borgia - her own brother. She was beneath contempt.

Caterina forced a facade of bravado as she thought about the reason for Lucrezia's jealous rage. "Salute, Lucrezia. How I've missed you."

"Vai a farti fottere, troia."

"Always a pleasure," Caterina said drily. She thrust her hand down the bodice of Lucrezia's ridiculous dress, ignoring the younger woman's outraged gasp. Caterina's fingers found warm iron. "Classy." She retrieved the key, and reached through the bars of her cell to unlock it.

"Slut - you are not worth my brother's time -"

"Enough out of you," Caterina said, and eased her feelings by seizing Lucrezia by the hair and slamming her blonde head into the bars of the cell. Her thin body crumpled and Caterina saw the corner of Ezio's mouth twitch in amused satisfaction. Maybe he could not bring himself to harm the stupid girl, but Caterina had no hesitations. She locked the cell, with Lucrezia in it. Let Cesare find his own repellent sister, mad as a stray cat when he came visiting.

"Can you walk, Caterina?" Ezio said urgently.

She stood straight, testing her injured hip, but pain engulfed her in a wave, draining the blood from her head. Fighting back a cry she let Ezio support her.

"..No," she admitted, and he swept her into his arms. After the humiliations she had suffered in the Castello, the shame of being unable to walk on her own was hardly worth worrying about.

She drifted in a haze of pain and shock as Ezio hurried through the halls, pausing or doubling back now and then to evade guards. She was dimly aware that they were speaking, and that the effort of summoning her wits to voice her thoughts kept her from thinking about what would happen if they did not escape - if Ezio didn't get her out of this shit hole. She would seek death rather than face Cesare again.

And eventually, just as she had feared, here it was - the question she knew was coming.

"...Caterina," Ezio said hesitantly. "Did they-? Did Cesare-?"

Why couldn't he just shut up about it? What did he expect her to say?

"No." Her answer came too quickly, and she prayed he did not notice. She would not shame herself further by having him know what Cesare had done to her. "My name must still have some value," she said. "I was left... unspoiled."

She felt the muscles of his arms and chest relax against her. He belived her. Thank God for that.

She remembered little of the rest of their escape. How Ezio managed to get her near-unconscious form outside the castello walls, she did not know. Everything was red and black and fuzzy. Pain spiked through her hip with each jolt of her body. Then she was being pushed upright, and her hands laid against the hard, live warmth of a horse's neck. The smell of the animal was familiar, comforting. She had been such a fine horsewoman, once. Absurdly, she stroked the beast's coarse neck in greeting, as though time had stopped.

Ezio was shouting at her. "Get up, Caterina!" He pushed her into the saddle. Her hands fell to take the reins. Her horse shifted its feet with the sudden weight and she felt it testing her.

She ignored the pain wracking through her as her body moulded to the animal. Even in this state her rider's instincts were sufficient to assert her authority, and the horse quieted in attention.

"Go," Ezio ordered. He directed her horse's head. "That way." She held tight; Ezio gave her horse's rump a sharp smack and they were off.

Through the gates of the Castello Sant-Angelo and onto the bridge. She did not care what was ahead; she would not stop now. She urged her horse faster, digging it in the ribs with her bare heels. Armored men lined up before her. But there was Ezio on horseback, drawing ahead with sword in hand; and blood arced into the sky as he cut a path to freedom.


As the doctor frowned over the rattle in her chest, her hollow cheeks and too-prominent ribs, Caterina heard Ezio pacing outside the infirmary door at Tiber Island. She had fainted in his arms when he had lifted her down from her horse, and he would not forget about it.

Caterina was feeling more like herself after some rest, and a meal of hot clear soup and a little bread - all she could handle, after months on next to nothing. She had said so, but still Ezio waited. He had not yet changed out of his armor, and she heard the soft clink of steel and fine leather as he walked up and down outside in the hallway.

The doctor gently lifted Caterina's left arm, and she gasped as pain shot through her shoulder. Yet another injury she had not noticed in the mess of bruises that her body had become.

"I am sorry, Contessa," the doctor said. He was a young man; a boy, in Caterina's view, barely into his twenties. Talented but inexperienced, he was also an Assassin, although not a fighter.

"It is nothing, Mino," she told him. "Do what you need to do."

She had been dubious about Mino's skill, at first, but he had shown soon enough that her doubts were unfounded.

Her hip had proved to be dislocated - whether from Lucrezia's efforts with her iron bar or from some part of the escape, she wasn't sure. But after a minute of agony that no safe dose of medicine could suppress, during which the doctor directed two strong Assassins to set her displaced bone correctly in its socket, the lancing pain subsided to a dull thudding ache which was easier to bear.

Mino's gentleness and calm discretion as he treated the most intimate of her wounds made her sure that he had done the same for other women prisoners of the Templars. The thought made her fume. How long would the women of Roma have to suffer under these abuses? How long would men permit their sisters, their wives and daughters to be humiliated in such a way?

Now the doctor felt her shoulder with careful fingers, assessing the injury.

"This will heal with time, I believe," he said. "I will fetch a sling for you to wear."

Caterina nodded absently. A second pair of footsteps approached outside the closed door, light and hesitant. In her months of captivity, she had become accustomed to listening acutely to footsteps - partly because there was nothing else to do, but also in order to gauge the mood of anyone who approached her cell.

"What do you want?" came Ezio's voice.

"Messer Niccolo has asked me to summon you, Maestro."

"Tell him I am busy."

"Maestro -"

"Do not make me repeat myself, Recluta," Ezio told the unfortunate messenger in dangerous tones. "Off with you."

The light footsteps padded back the way they had come, a little faster than they had approached.

"Merda," Caterina heard Ezio mutter.

"You may get dressed again, Contessa," Mino said. She laced her clothes as he packed away his equipment. Then the young doctor glanced at the door where his master waited impatiently. "Shall I let him in?"

"I suppose so." She sighed. "But Mino - you must not mention - "

"Of course, Contessa." He nodded respectfully. "I have no need to discuss your condition with anyone but you." He opened the door, and Ezio entered, his face dark with worry.

"Caterina... did they...?" [2/2]

(Anonymous) 2013-05-07 06:53 am (UTC)(link)

In the weeks and months that followed, Caterina began to heal. Mino's calm competence sped her body's recovery. Although she wanted nothing more than to leave the crumbling chaos of Roma behind, with all its memories, she was not well enough to travel; and besides, with war wracking the countryside and her own lands fallen to the Templars, there was nowhere safer or more restful for her to go.

There was plenty to do around Tiber Island. Caterina's sharp mind had not been dulled by captivity, and she found herself scouring maps and documents with intensity. Reports of army movements and diplomacy came in a steady stream, as Ezio's fighters kept their communication channels open. Niccolo Machiavelli was here - a fast friend from a lifetime ago, and an excellent companion. She sought his company as often as she could, and as before their two analytical minds played off each other.

Caterina found, as well, that she had retained many interesting pieces of information from her guards at the castello. They had not believed her to be capable of using their idle talk as intelligence. Whether that was because they assumed her to be a feeble-minded woman, or because they never expected her to escape made no difference.

When her mind was spent from strategy and intrigue, she took up menial tasks with the rest of the Assassini. There were no servants at Tiber Island - anyone brave and true enough to be in the employ of the Assassins had more important things to do. A level-headed common woman was invaluable when installed as a maid for an influential family, or sent to serve in a tavern frequented by enemy soldiers. A capable old stable hand, who had never so much as touched a sword, made an excellent spy. How wasteful it would be to have such people waiting on the Brotherhood.

Her seemingly boundless enthusiasm for work concealed the fact that Caterina could not sleep or even sit idle without panic rising inside her as her mind returned to the Castello in flashbacks so vivid they felt real. When she did sleep, she would wake with a scream, struggling up from her dreams with her bedding in a sweat-soaked tangle. Young Mino gave her worried glances once or twice when he caught her shaking, but his time was absorbed with tending wounded men and women.

So Caterina mended clothes, swept floors and tended horses. Such work was unfamiliar to her, of course, but she found that she was glad to do it. Everyone worked at Tiber Island. Birth meant little among the Assassini - rank was everything. It was no longer strange to her to see proud youths of noble birth submitting without question to the orders of a merchant's son, or a former courtesan.

She rarely saw Ezio. He was busy, of course, but Caterina suspected as well that he was avoiding her. They had exchanged few words since Caterina's escape. Until, one day, he approached her as she was tending horses in the stables.

"Contessa," he said with a bow, stiff and formal.

She sighed inwardly, straightening to brush off her hands. Would it ever relax between them?


"I am to meet with Niccolo, Volpe and Claudia this evening at the Rosa in Fiore," he said. "We have much to plan. Bartolomeo d'Alviano may come, if he can. Would you join us?"

"There's little point my staying here if I don't, is there? Yes, Ezio, I will join you."

"Excellent. We are all grateful that you have agreed to stay to give your counsel."

"You are most welcome," she said. What a ridiculous conversation. What was wrong with him? It had been this way ever since their escape from the Castello.

The thought of that place brought on the panicked dizziness that had become familiar to her.Not now! She braced a hand on the stable wall, fighting the flashback. Not in front of him!

But there was no use - cold sweat broke over her and she began to shake. She felt the cold stone floor, smelled the stench of the prison. She heard footsteps outside her cell, and men's voices. Ezio caught her by her upper arms, his face grim with concern, and guided her to sit on a clean pile of hay.

"You are safe, Caterina," he said, and despite herself, she leaned against him letting him hold her hands. Eventually she returned to the stable with the smell of clean straw and the sound of horses, shifting and snuffling. The horse she had been seeing to draped her head over her stall and nudged Caterina with curiosity. Caterina breathed deeply until she was calm again.

Ezio sat beside her in silence, resting his forearms on his thighs. "Caterina. I know you lied to me, before," he said eventually.

"About what?" She stalled. Oh, would he never shut up?

"I know that in your position, you must... ah, negotiate," he said. "I understand what you said, about politics." He gently touched her arm. "If you and Cesare became lovers -"

"We did not 'become lovers', Ezio!" she said, throwing his hand off and standing up. He looked up at her, stunned. She was so angry she could hardly speak. He held up his hands to placate her.

"Shh, Caterina, I meant no offense." He looked around, knowing from experience how her voice carried when she was roused to anger.

"Don't you tell me to be quiet!" She shouted. "You think that because I bedded you, I would bed anyone? That I do not care who has me - even that piece of shit? How dare you. I did not bed him, you slug-witted idiot. He held a blade to my throat and forced me!"

"Caterina, I'm sorry -" he said, standing and half-reaching for her again, but withdrew when she backed away.

"I suppose you wonder why I did not choose to die, rather than be dishonoured by a Templar - one who conquered my own lands, no less! I, who fought beside men with a blade in my hand - to defend my home, and then yours! Well, I wanted to. I wanted to fight, and force him to kill me. But instead, I froze." Her hands were trembling. "You cannot possibly understand."

"Forgive me, Caterina," he said. "I did not think -"

"No, you didn't think - stronzo - and you took your sweet time in coming to get me from that shit-hole. Yes, I lied to you before. Cesare took his pleasure, whenever he pleased - usually, when he was straight from the field and covered with the blood of our allies. And when he had finished, he gave me to Rodrigo. So now you know, and I will leave Roma for I cannot stand the shame of it."

"Don't, please," he said. "Not because of me. I'm a fool, Caterina."

"Yes. You are," she told him.

He was pale with horror, and guilt. That gave her some satisfaction, and her rage abated somewhat.

"I will meet you tonight, Ezio. Now go away, before you make me shout again - the horses have had enough of it."


"Hunting?" Caterina blinked at Ezio in surprise.

He nodded. "It is not such an absurdity as you think. I am to visit Pantasilea D'Alviano, and it occurred to me that you should meet with her too. That part of the countryside is quite safe, now that we control it. It would be a pleasant journey."

Caterina had been a fine hunter, with a keen eye and steady hands. She had seen Ezio's archers training, and felt sure that she could have given some of them a run for their money, in accuracy if not in reach. She doubted she had the strength now to draw a bow now, though. But to leave these stone walls was a tempting thought.

Ezio shifted his feet. "Of course, if you're not yet well enough..."

"No - perhaps not for hunting," she said. "But a ride would be a welcome distraction."

A grin lit up his face, making him look ten years younger.

"Then come and see what I've got for you," he said.

In the stables was a pretty little roan mare, young and finely built. An obvious peace offering, but Caterina could not hide her pleasure as the mare mouthed her hand curiously and huffed warm breath into her palm.

"She may be small, but she is spirited," Ezio promised, and as if to agree the mare snorted and shifted her weight, pushing her strong neck against Caterina to give her a cheeky little shove.

"Oh no you don't," Caterina said, laughing, and stood her ground stilling the mare's head by her halter. The horse tossed her head and fidgeted but soon deferred to Caterina's firm hands.

"I knew you would get along," Ezio said.

They set out. Ezio's mount was a tall grey gelding. Fiametta - little flame, as Caterina had decided to call her, for her fiery temperament, dainty build, and shining red coat - nipped at the gelding's flank, but the grey only swished his tail as if such games were far beneath him.

Caterina was pleased to find that her body was fit for riding. Her muscles would feel it tomorrow, but she found that neither her hip nor her shoulder bothered her. The wind and sun felt good on her face.

Fiametta was eager, and Caterina had to hold her back as they travelled towards Bartolomeo D'Alviano's stronghold. Eventually she let the little mare have her head, and before she knew it, she and Ezio were racing.

The gelding's longer legs soon outstripped Fiametta but the mare was a racer by nature, and she followed close behind, kicking up her feet in excitement. They came to the edge of a forest and now Fiametta, small and darting, had the advantage. Caterina guided her with a sure hand through the trees and they gained ground. Fiametta's petite build and light feet - as well as Caterina's excellent horsemanship - won out, and at the end of the wood they were ahead.

By now Fiametta was foaming and blowing, her body slick with sweat, and though she showed no signs of wanting to stop, Caterina drew her head up to slow her.

The edge of a creek glimmered beside a cluster of trees, and Caterina headed for it. As soon as she pulled Fiametta to a stop, Caterina's thighs and calves went to water. She slid out of her saddle. To hide her sudden weakness she leaned against Fiammetta's hot damp body and felt a light shudder ripple through the mare from shoulder to haunch.

She stroked the mare's wet neck and praised her in soft tones. But Ezio had seen her stumble and soon he was at her side. She felt his hand light on her back, between her shoulders.

"Are you well, Caterina?"

"Of course," she said, turning to him with a smile. In fact, she felt better than she had in weeks. But seeing a pile of soft leaves at the foot of a tree, she led her mount with her and lay down. Just a moment's rest, she thought.

After so many nights of broken sleep she had not realised how tired she was, and she fell asleep almost the instant her head touched the sun-warmed leaves. She slept blissfully - no dreams to torment her.

The air was cool and the sun burned low when she woke to the sound of Fiammetta munching grass near her right ear. She found Ezio's cape draped over her.

Fiametta nudged her with her shapely head, and Caterina stroked her ears. She leaned against the horse's strong body as she stood. Running her hands over the mare, she found that she had been groomed well, her body brushed clean of sweat and smooth to the touch.

Then Ezio returned from the creek. He had been washing, or perhaps swimming. His hair was loose and dripping, his shirt clinging to his damp chest, dark tight-curled hair under light cotton. The sunset made his skin burnished brown and caught his amber eyes, full of dark warmth.

A year ago, she would have pushed him down to that pile of leaves, then straddled him to tear off his shirt. She would have run her hands over his hot, hard shoulders, over the damp curled hair on his chest and his firm flat belly. She would have kissed his scarred, sensual mouth until he could not breathe. And then, they would have risen until they were both entirely satisfied... which could have taken no small amount of time.

She shook her head, dislodging the foolish daydream.

"I'm sorry, Ezio," she said. "We are supposed to be travelling, and all I did is sleep." She handed him his cloak and their hands brushed.

"We don't have far to go," he said. "And it was good to see you resting," he added quietly, his eyes soft. The longing to touch him, to feel his lips on hers was too much, and she reached for him, drawing him close.

She saw a flash of raw desire cross his face, and for a moment she was afraid. But when Ezio bent to kiss her, his mouth was gentle, even hesitant. His lips parted in answer to the tip of her tongue, and not before. He held back, even when his breath came faster and she heard soft grunts of pleasure from the back of his throat.

When she drew away slightly, he swallowed and straightened. He squeezed her hand, his fingertips lingering. Then he let go, and turned to fetch his horse.

They rode for the headquarters of the mercenario, at an easy pace in the evening light. The air between them was easier, now, despite the kiss, and she knew Ezio would not demand anything more. They could be allies, friends, or more; or perhaps they did not need to know exactly what this was. The choice was hers.

Anything- Officer/Thief

(Anonymous) 2014-01-19 02:21 am (UTC)(link)

The Officer catches The Thief right after she steals something, and is just about ready to take her down to prison despite her being a brother in arms. Before he can do so, she swears she will do anything to make for the theft.
Bonus points for oblivious!officer or voyeur multiplayer character of your choice ;D

Connor/Aveline, gentleness

(Anonymous) 2014-02-01 08:18 pm (UTC)(link)
I have a very specific kink, bear with me anon--

I have a special fondness in my heart for pairings where one half is much, much larger and stronger than the other--heavy frame, heavy cock, knows how to use this body as a weapon--where if they wanted to they could do anything they wanted to the other half without fear of consequence because the other could not stop them, and both of them know this... and not despite this but because of this in bed the stronger partner is the tenderest, gentlest lover imaginable, afraid to hurt their partner accidentally. And Connor just strikes me as being this type, being that he's possibly the cutest most precious highly-trained killer-for-pay in the history of ever. So pair him with anyone who fits and give me adorbs sex, anon?

I kinda noticed I skipped a lot of what the prompt wanted and I'm so sorry. Still figured I'd post it instead of letting it wait for deletion since there's so little Aveline/Connor...

Re: Connor/Aveline, gentleness

(Anonymous) 2014-02-01 08:20 pm (UTC)(link)
It was shortly after Aveline had arrived at the homestead with Patience Gibbs in tow that Myriam broke her arm. A few days later, Myriam, annoyed with Norris’s clumsy attempts to help her hunt, went up to Connor’s home to ask for his help.

“Right now is the peak of the season Connor, I can’t fall behind on furs and leathers to tan, I really could use your help,” Myriam pleaded, adjusting the sling that held her arm and Connor winced in sympathy at the hiss of pain that escaped her.

A small smile began to tug at Connor’s lips as he nodded, and wondered if Myriam really through he would refuse her request, “Do not worry, I will help you Myriam. I shall bring whatever I hunt to you.”

Myriam grinned wide as she stood up from her chair, sat across from him, “Oh thank you Connor! Now I’ve got to go, I told Norris I’d be back right after asking you this favor and I really don’t want him fussin’ over me anymore than he already does.”

“He just worries. He cares very deeply for you,” Connor said, walking behind her and towards the front door.

When she stepped out Myriam scoffed, turned to face him and shook her finger at Connor forcing him to step back slightly, “I’m not some delicate lady, I broke my arm, its nothing compared to what you are still healing through.” After taking a deep breath to continue her lecture about her decidedly non-delicacy, she paused and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him. “Also, I hope you weren’t thinkin’ on going out by yourself.”

“I—I was not thinking of doing that Myriam,” Connor frowned, but the way his eyes suddenly refused to meet her own gave him away. Myriam scoffed.

“Now see here, I will not be one bit happy if that lady of yours shows up and has an ax to grind because she thinks I told you to go alone! I’ll make sure Norris tells her before you can even walk out a here.”

“Ha, do not worry. Aveline seems to know exactly when I plan to leave the house and when I don’t,” Connor chuckled and leaned against the door way. The sudden sly look and smirk that Myriam shot him made Connor furrow his eyebrows in question and slight suspicion.

“She does, does she? Well, this will probably also give you both lots of ah, personal, time with her.”

“We spend plenty of time together Myriam, since Patience decided to live closer towards the center of town.”

His confusion only grew as that made her burst into peals of laughter and nearly doubled over. It took her a solid few minutes to reign in her laughter, minutes that pushed Connor further and futher into confusion, “Oh, oh Connor! I-I’m just going to head home and let you get ready alright? And again, thank you so much for the help while I heal up this arm!”

“Very well. I shall return to you with our bounty when Aveline and I collect enough Myriam.” Connor shook his head as he spoke, knowing that even if he asked for clarification from Myriam, whatever explanation she gave him would probably just confuse him even further.

As he watched Myriam walk down the path that would take her straight towards her own home he thought back on his wording of earlier, and wondered just what was so funny that caused such laughter in his friend.

Try as he might he just couldn’t think of what it was, and with an annoyed huff he turned back towards his home and simply chalked it up to one of those strange colloquialisms that he never managed to fully grasp.

As he readied his weapons and clothes in his room he heard the deliberately loud steps on the stairs leading up to his room and turned towards the door he had left open. Sure enough, seconds later Aveline appeared.

“I heard from a little bird that we are going on a hunting trip?”

“Yes. Myriam asked me to help her hunt while her arm heals. Aveline, I want you to know that you are not obligated to come with me,” Connor said as he picked up his white coat and pulled it on. When she didn’t immediately respond he turned to look at her as he buttoned the front up.

Whatever thought had tied up her tongue was quickly set aside as their eyes met, “Mm, I hope you do not think I will let you go alone. You still can’t go for as long as you used to yet. I will go along to make sure no wolves nibble off any of that pretty face.”

Amused, Connor smiled and held out a pistol for her. With an answering grin and a wink Aveline stepped into his room and took the offered pistol before tucking it into the holster at her side, “I will ready two horses. I’ll meet you outside Connor.”

Re: Connor/Aveline, gentleness

(Anonymous) - 2014-02-01 20:22 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Connor/Aveline, gentleness

(Anonymous) - 2014-02-02 08:12 (UTC) - Expand

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