Need washed over him. Need he wouldn't usually deny. It throbbed in time to his heartbeat and crushed any resolve he had. As if a dam had broken a flood of images and memories and fantasies all twisted into one overwhelmed his mind. His breath hitched and the bulge in his breeches grew. Altaïr looked over to him quickly, eyes hovering on the progression of his skin as it wound around his fingers.
“Make sure you keep your fingers apart.” He said quite breathlessly and took a short break to turn so that his back faced Malik and walk towards his clothing and armour where he had left a wooden cup of water.
And he wasn't-
But he couldn't-
And please don't-
But please, please do-
And he bent over to grasp his cup and the sight drew from Malik a long, low pining noise between his teeth. The arousal was almost painful.
Altaïr whipped around and his eyes fell first on his arm again but then snapped to the obvious erection in Malik's breeches.
“I swear, Altaïr.” Malik said, voice husky and eyes dancing all over Altaïr's frame with an almost feverish pace. “I swear that as soon as my arm is whole I will fuck you so hard.”
And Altaïr was panting for another reason now and staring at Malik torn between ignoring it, leaving or crawling to him on all fours. He took a tentative step forwards.
“No! No. Fuck, Altaïr...Why the fuck did you put me in this room? Fuck.”
Altaïr froze in place, unable to explain his reasoning. In truth he had wanted Malik and Maria to perhaps bond over his current state so that things would not seem so jarring and perhaps, in the end, he could give in to one of his deepest, darkest desires.
The bulge in Malik's trousers was still highly visible and not softening at all.
“Leave, Altaïr, before we do something that we'll regret.” Malik finally hissed, a hint of desperation in his voice, and leant his head back, screwing his eyes shut.
“But-”
“Leave.”
When Altaïr pulled on the most of his clothes, hurriedly topped up the boiling pail and left, his knees were still weak from the choking grip of arousal that had taken hold of him.
FILL [4.e/?]
“Make sure you keep your fingers apart.” He said quite breathlessly and took a short break to turn so that his back faced Malik and walk towards his clothing and armour where he had left a wooden cup of water.
And he wasn't-
But he couldn't-
And please don't-
But please, please do-
And he bent over to grasp his cup and the sight drew from Malik a long, low pining noise between his teeth. The arousal was almost painful.
Altaïr whipped around and his eyes fell first on his arm again but then snapped to the obvious erection in Malik's breeches.
“I swear, Altaïr.” Malik said, voice husky and eyes dancing all over Altaïr's frame with an almost feverish pace. “I swear that as soon as my arm is whole I will fuck you so hard.”
And Altaïr was panting for another reason now and staring at Malik torn between ignoring it, leaving or crawling to him on all fours. He took a tentative step forwards.
“No! No. Fuck, Altaïr...Why the fuck did you put me in this room? Fuck.”
Altaïr froze in place, unable to explain his reasoning. In truth he had wanted Malik and Maria to perhaps bond over his current state so that things would not seem so jarring and perhaps, in the end, he could give in to one of his deepest, darkest desires.
The bulge in Malik's trousers was still highly visible and not softening at all.
“Leave, Altaïr, before we do something that we'll regret.” Malik finally hissed, a hint of desperation in his voice, and leant his head back, screwing his eyes shut.
“But-”
“Leave.”
When Altaïr pulled on the most of his clothes, hurriedly topped up the boiling pail and left, his knees were still weak from the choking grip of arousal that had taken hold of him.