“'Wouldn't allow it?' Shaun I thought you were cooler than that.” The hand on his hip gave a distracting squeeze as it dropped to his thigh.
“Oh, ha-ha. Desmond, listen now.” The hand, however, seemed to be working it's way to his inner thigh and up. Shaun grabbed it by the wrist.
“Okay, I'm listening.”
“It would create unnecessary tensions.”
“We have an unnecessary tension.” Desmond whined. Shaun sighed and was about to make a comment on that when Desmond tensed and straightened quite suddenly. Shaun's ear pricked and his head turned to the study entrance for fear that they had been found or someone was approaching. But Desmond was looking the other way with a plain-faced look of acknowledgement and a small bit of fear and curiosity. Shaun couldn't see anything but the boarded up door to the entrance hall of the villa and a pile of dead leaved that had gathered in the corner. He watched as Desmond twisted slowly on the spot as if watching a phantom pass them by.
“Desmond?” Shaun asked, when the assassin before him had stood staring at a single point for more than four seconds.
“Ghosts.” Desmond answered shortly, and turned back to Shaun, putting a smile back on his face.
Shaun hummed and then sighed. The conversation was quickly heading into waters he would rather leave unexplored. Recently his nights had been left undisturbed, but he could remember all too clearly the shadows moving in the corners of his eyes, white and faint. Briefly a moment of clarity washed over him. Desmond was going to lose his mind. Well, that was unless they managed to find a miracle cure for the bleeding effect. However, a pessimist at heart, Shaun couldn't really see them managing that and saving Desmond. Didn't prophets usually die in saving the world?
How horrible it was to realise this right after getting attached.
“You know you have quite bushy eyebrows. I never noticed that before.” Desmond snapped him sharply from his musings, taking his face in hand to peer at his eyebrows. Well, Shaun supposed, at least he's lucid now despite coming across as rather strange.
“Shut up.”
“Kiss me?”
“Make me.”
He did.
It continued for four days with stray gropes between work, handjobs in the courtyard and kisses pressed to lips and jaws and necks at every opportunity present. Rebecca announced her theory that Shaun was plotting to steal Desmond's face at lunch on Saturday. Sunday morning they took off and yet in the afternoon they worked. They were close now. They had to be.
Ten minutes into the Animus session on Tuesday Ezio obtained the apple.
Second Fill! [15.c/16] - NSFWish
“Oh, ha-ha. Desmond, listen now.” The hand, however, seemed to be working it's way to his inner thigh and up. Shaun grabbed it by the wrist.
“Okay, I'm listening.”
“It would create unnecessary tensions.”
“We have an unnecessary tension.” Desmond whined. Shaun sighed and was about to make a comment on that when Desmond tensed and straightened quite suddenly. Shaun's ear pricked and his head turned to the study entrance for fear that they had been found or someone was approaching. But Desmond was looking the other way with a plain-faced look of acknowledgement and a small bit of fear and curiosity. Shaun couldn't see anything but the boarded up door to the entrance hall of the villa and a pile of dead leaved that had gathered in the corner. He watched as Desmond twisted slowly on the spot as if watching a phantom pass them by.
“Desmond?” Shaun asked, when the assassin before him had stood staring at a single point for more than four seconds.
“Ghosts.” Desmond answered shortly, and turned back to Shaun, putting a smile back on his face.
Shaun hummed and then sighed. The conversation was quickly heading into waters he would rather leave unexplored. Recently his nights had been left undisturbed, but he could remember all too clearly the shadows moving in the corners of his eyes, white and faint. Briefly a moment of clarity washed over him. Desmond was going to lose his mind. Well, that was unless they managed to find a miracle cure for the bleeding effect. However, a pessimist at heart, Shaun couldn't really see them managing that and saving Desmond. Didn't prophets usually die in saving the world?
How horrible it was to realise this right after getting attached.
“You know you have quite bushy eyebrows. I never noticed that before.” Desmond snapped him sharply from his musings, taking his face in hand to peer at his eyebrows. Well, Shaun supposed, at least he's lucid now despite coming across as rather strange.
“Shut up.”
“Kiss me?”
“Make me.”
He did.
It continued for four days with stray gropes between work, handjobs in the courtyard and kisses pressed to lips and jaws and necks at every opportunity present. Rebecca announced her theory that Shaun was plotting to steal Desmond's face at lunch on Saturday. Sunday morning they took off and yet in the afternoon they worked. They were close now. They had to be.
Ten minutes into the Animus session on Tuesday Ezio obtained the apple.