Malik had not seen him so easily irritated in years now. It was intoxicating to see him even considering lunging at him with something other than lust or fear. When they had first began fucking he had quickly found that his wit was a heady aphrodisiac to Altaïr. Now when he threw insults they were either brushed off easily with the knowledge that Malik did not truly mean to hurt Altaïr beyond reason or fed by obscene moans and lewdly rocking hips. Briefly Malik wondered whether this effect presupposed his relationship with Malik and dragged his eyes over Altaïr's bare flesh. He had not yet even grown into his broad shoulders, though it did take him a lot longer than most other boys. About the time that he married Adha his chest had finally filled out.
“How stoic.” He eventually remarked after his eyes had lingered on the front of Altaïr's breeches for long enough. He looked back up to their face. “Not even one attempt to prove me wrong? Or am I right?” He chuckled with the full intention of riling Altaïr up further. “Are you truly only a hot headed and stuck up Novice just waiting to be knocked off of his high horse?”
A little harsh, perhaps, but it had its desired effect. Altaïr lunged at him.
Malik dodged quickly to the side and grabbed Altaïr's undamaged wrist, pinning it behind his back and forcing him to bend over the surface, Altaïr's free arm flailing wildly in an attempt to hit him. Fuck, he had missed the feeling of challenge. Beneath him, Altaïr thought very much the same.
“I'll take that as an affirmative.” Malik murmured into Altaïr's ear as he spread himself over the boy's back. Altaïr snarled into the wood very much as he had the stone wall.
“But you like this, don't you, Altaïr? You like being reminded that you are not a God. You like being challenged. You like being forced to submit.” Malik blew a stream of cool air over the shell of Altaïr's ear. The fabric of his robes and tunic cut into and stuck to Altaïr's sweaty back as it bucked in an attempt to force Malik off. He smiled a Cheshire grin when the younger man's struggles faltered and returned a lot weaker and half-hearted.
“You know, it's about time that somebody taught you that not everybody's so easily beaten as you should think. There are circumstances when you should walk away and not...compromise-”
“I would never compromise the Brotherhood.” Altaïr insisted, and he sounded in that moment so honest and sincere Malik forgot when he became the man who cost him his arm and brother and instead could only see the man he now worked with day to day. He remained tight-lipped and surprised, but unfaltering in his grip.
“And I suppose I should just submit to you?” Altaïr growled after Malik remained still and the vibrations rumbled over Malik's chest bringing him into the present – a much deeper past than Solomon's Temple.
“'Depends, does it feel right to?” Malik was unsure of when his voice had dropped to a silky, flirtatious tone but it probably had something to do with the compromising position they found themselves in and the intimacy he shared with Altaïr after he had earned his forgiveness. Altaïr had stilled beneath him, silent but for his panting breath. His back heaved under Malik's chest. It was ever so familiar to feel, despite the layers of cloth between their skin.
2; The wound [5/?]
“How stoic.” He eventually remarked after his eyes had lingered on the front of Altaïr's breeches for long enough. He looked back up to their face. “Not even one attempt to prove me wrong? Or am I right?” He chuckled with the full intention of riling Altaïr up further. “Are you truly only a hot headed and stuck up Novice just waiting to be knocked off of his high horse?”
A little harsh, perhaps, but it had its desired effect. Altaïr lunged at him.
Malik dodged quickly to the side and grabbed Altaïr's undamaged wrist, pinning it behind his back and forcing him to bend over the surface, Altaïr's free arm flailing wildly in an attempt to hit him. Fuck, he had missed the feeling of challenge. Beneath him, Altaïr thought very much the same.
“I'll take that as an affirmative.” Malik murmured into Altaïr's ear as he spread himself over the boy's back. Altaïr snarled into the wood very much as he had the stone wall.
“But you like this, don't you, Altaïr? You like being reminded that you are not a God. You like being challenged. You like being forced to submit.” Malik blew a stream of cool air over the shell of Altaïr's ear. The fabric of his robes and tunic cut into and stuck to Altaïr's sweaty back as it bucked in an attempt to force Malik off. He smiled a Cheshire grin when the younger man's struggles faltered and returned a lot weaker and half-hearted.
“You know, it's about time that somebody taught you that not everybody's so easily beaten as you should think. There are circumstances when you should walk away and not...compromise-”
“I would never compromise the Brotherhood.” Altaïr insisted, and he sounded in that moment so honest and sincere Malik forgot when he became the man who cost him his arm and brother and instead could only see the man he now worked with day to day. He remained tight-lipped and surprised, but unfaltering in his grip.
“And I suppose I should just submit to you?” Altaïr growled after Malik remained still and the vibrations rumbled over Malik's chest bringing him into the present – a much deeper past than Solomon's Temple.
“'Depends, does it feel right to?” Malik was unsure of when his voice had dropped to a silky, flirtatious tone but it probably had something to do with the compromising position they found themselves in and the intimacy he shared with Altaïr after he had earned his forgiveness. Altaïr had stilled beneath him, silent but for his panting breath. His back heaved under Malik's chest. It was ever so familiar to feel, despite the layers of cloth between their skin.