“Yes, you are,” and Malik pressed his nose up against Altair’s neck and used the pads of his fingers up and around his ear. “My big tough assassin,” he breathed into Altair’s ear.
“That’s me,” Altair said chipperly and turned his head around and up slightly to catch Malik’s lips with a slight, pleased, sigh. This felt good, especially after how awkward it had been yesterday. Malik had invited Altair into his room and it was like suddenly they didn’t know what to do with each other and it had been a long time since Malik had been with someone. That tended to happen when you had only one arm, you usually got the weirdos with a kink, or the guys who would flirt with an amputee but didn’t want to do much beyond that, that or the guys who were just desperate or were horny enough to fuck anything and not even Malik would sink that low.
He didn’t even take his shirt off around friends, only Kadar, or his parents. He wasn’t comfortable with it, since it was like his one weakness, that one physical defect that people could point and stare at and make awkward comments about. Or worse yet, ask questions. It was why he didn’t go out often, didn’t seek out attention, because just walking down the street he got stares and it made him uncomfortable. Hell, six years and he still wasn’t over the fact that he was limbless and would try to reach for things with two hands. He wasn’t ashamed of the missing limb and the shrapnel scarring, he was just… sensitive.
The idea of revealing that flaw, that insecurity, to anyone who didn’t get it was terrifying. It hadn’t been till he’d had Altair in his room that he realized it fully either. He couldn’t do it. Mercifully Altair didn’t ask for anything and just plopped down on Malik’s bed next to him and curled up under the covers saying he was glad he didn’t have to sleep on that damn couch. The next night Altair didn’t ask or assume. When Malik went to bed he was watching TV and when he woke up in the morning Altair was asleep on the couch in a nest of blankets. He knew not to push. Malik didn’t even know what to say to him after that, so he didn’t, and it had been weird for a bit.
Not now though. Here Altair was, basically in his lap, a warm weight against him, pressed neatly against his chest, lips soft and almost careful as he pressed kisses all over Malik’s lips. “This is the most uncomfortable position ever,” Altair groaned when he pulled away and Malik chuckled lowly only to find himself with a real lap full of assassin as Altair turned around and straddled his thighs. “That’s better,” and he nipped at Malik’s chin through his thin goatee he was growing out for winter.
“Much,” Malik said with a smirk and Altair kissed him again, slow and deliberate, now his own hands combing lightly through Malik’s hair.
“Get a room you two,” Kadar suddenly burst their bubble and Malik turned towards the kitchen when Kadar was getting out lunch meat to make a sandwich, even though it was like nine at night.
“What? No screaming about your poor virgin eyes?” Malik teased him, clearly bringing up every time Kadar had ever interrupted him and Ezio ever.
Kadar gave him a sideways look, “I’ll let you off this once. Though only cause this one has a nice ass and isn’t a jerk,” he said and slathered mayonnaise and mustard on his bread.
“That isn’t very ni-
“You’re pretty generous squirt,” Altair said, leaning against Malik’s shoulder as Kadar piled on turkey, ham, and cheese.
“This once. Honestly, get a room, I don’t want bodily fluids where I watch TV,” Kadar huffed.
“You know Kadar. If I remember correctly it was you who made it so that we now use this side of the couch cushions,” Malik drawled, and Kadar’s ears turned bright red. “Now shoo,” and Malik made a shooing motion as Kadar rapidly threw the lunch meat into the fridge and scuttled back into his room, sandwich in hand.
“Did he really?” Altair asked only once Kadar’s door had closed.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (85/?)
“That’s me,” Altair said chipperly and turned his head around and up slightly to catch Malik’s lips with a slight, pleased, sigh. This felt good, especially after how awkward it had been yesterday. Malik had invited Altair into his room and it was like suddenly they didn’t know what to do with each other and it had been a long time since Malik had been with someone. That tended to happen when you had only one arm, you usually got the weirdos with a kink, or the guys who would flirt with an amputee but didn’t want to do much beyond that, that or the guys who were just desperate or were horny enough to fuck anything and not even Malik would sink that low.
He didn’t even take his shirt off around friends, only Kadar, or his parents. He wasn’t comfortable with it, since it was like his one weakness, that one physical defect that people could point and stare at and make awkward comments about. Or worse yet, ask questions. It was why he didn’t go out often, didn’t seek out attention, because just walking down the street he got stares and it made him uncomfortable. Hell, six years and he still wasn’t over the fact that he was limbless and would try to reach for things with two hands. He wasn’t ashamed of the missing limb and the shrapnel scarring, he was just… sensitive.
The idea of revealing that flaw, that insecurity, to anyone who didn’t get it was terrifying. It hadn’t been till he’d had Altair in his room that he realized it fully either. He couldn’t do it. Mercifully Altair didn’t ask for anything and just plopped down on Malik’s bed next to him and curled up under the covers saying he was glad he didn’t have to sleep on that damn couch. The next night Altair didn’t ask or assume. When Malik went to bed he was watching TV and when he woke up in the morning Altair was asleep on the couch in a nest of blankets. He knew not to push. Malik didn’t even know what to say to him after that, so he didn’t, and it had been weird for a bit.
Not now though. Here Altair was, basically in his lap, a warm weight against him, pressed neatly against his chest, lips soft and almost careful as he pressed kisses all over Malik’s lips. “This is the most uncomfortable position ever,” Altair groaned when he pulled away and Malik chuckled lowly only to find himself with a real lap full of assassin as Altair turned around and straddled his thighs. “That’s better,” and he nipped at Malik’s chin through his thin goatee he was growing out for winter.
“Much,” Malik said with a smirk and Altair kissed him again, slow and deliberate, now his own hands combing lightly through Malik’s hair.
“Get a room you two,” Kadar suddenly burst their bubble and Malik turned towards the kitchen when Kadar was getting out lunch meat to make a sandwich, even though it was like nine at night.
“What? No screaming about your poor virgin eyes?” Malik teased him, clearly bringing up every time Kadar had ever interrupted him and Ezio ever.
Kadar gave him a sideways look, “I’ll let you off this once. Though only cause this one has a nice ass and isn’t a jerk,” he said and slathered mayonnaise and mustard on his bread.
“That isn’t very ni-
“You’re pretty generous squirt,” Altair said, leaning against Malik’s shoulder as Kadar piled on turkey, ham, and cheese.
“This once. Honestly, get a room, I don’t want bodily fluids where I watch TV,” Kadar huffed.
“You know Kadar. If I remember correctly it was you who made it so that we now use this side of the couch cushions,” Malik drawled, and Kadar’s ears turned bright red. “Now shoo,” and Malik made a shooing motion as Kadar rapidly threw the lunch meat into the fridge and scuttled back into his room, sandwich in hand.
“Did he really?” Altair asked only once Kadar’s door had closed.
“Yep.”
“How bad did you ride his ass about it after?”