Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed [Fills]

[asscreedkinkmeme]

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.

List of Kinks
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Discussion

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Tomorrow Was Not Dull [4/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Altair’s mouth fell open at precisely the same time his older counterpart’s did, though for an entirely different reason. He could feel his face heat up, embarrassed and confused, unwilling to turn to Malik to check if they were both seeing the same thing. A part of his mind refused to acknowledge it, the way he leaned into the kiss, pushing forward like he could not get enough of the dai’s mouth. Altair could see it, the flash of teeth and tongue, and how it almost gave distraction from the hands that left the dai’s shoulders to brace against the stone wall, both arms trapping the other man, though trapping may have been the wrong word to use. Altair had the feeling that it was the Grandmaster who was trapped instead, sliding slowly to the ground as if in defeat, except for the way Malik, older Malik, slid down with him, back pressed against the wall and a leg hooked around the Grandmaster’s waist to keep from falling too fast.

They settled on the grass, breaking off to quip at each other, all of it inane but not entirely meaningless. The rustle of cloth and metal carried beneath their voices, belts and crimson sashes loosening with practiced ease. Altair did not understand how Malik could smile like that, or how the Grandmaster dipped his head to allow a hand to run across his forehead, pushing the hood back to show flushed cheeks and an expression so open with affection, it and made Altair’s chest grow tight with unaccustomed want and jealousy. Jealousy, despite the fact that the Grandmaster was him, because Altair was not sure if they were really the same person in the end.

He found himself breathing through his mouth, trying to block out the heady smell of jasmine. It became worse with the sight of the Grandmaster’s robes fanning over their bodies, revealing little of what they kept on or took off. Altair’s imagination involuntarily filled in the rest, spurred on when the Grandmaster arched his back, the hem of his long robes lifting to momentarily expose Malik’s bare thigh and shadowed angles of his hip. They were quiet, but the small gasps, the soft, wet noises of their mouths were loud to Altair, and even louder to him was the sound of Malik, his Malik, breathing next to him, stirring the thick air and scented flowers. He could swear he felt every soft exhale, hot against his cheek, and he wanted to look—to see Malik affected by this too; he had to be, if not for the way the Grandmaster rocked against the dai, then for the way their gazes met and held on in the brief seconds their faces pulled away.

There was a murmur, indistinct, but Altair read the downward tilt of the Grandmaster’s head, the tiny shifts of his body, and knew what every motion meant. The gestures were all his, though Altair could not remember the last time he left himself so vulnerable, and could not believe he would put ever himself in that position.

“Please,” the Grandmaster was saying, burying his face into the dai’s left shoulder as the other man’s arm disappeared within the folds of their robes, doing something that made their rhythmic movements jerky and uncontrolled.

A sharp intake of breath beside him drew Altair’s attention away. He turned and saw Malik with a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle whatever noise was lodged in his throat, noises like the one the dai was making, low and on the verge of breaking. Malik’s eyes flitted towards him, widening when he saw that Altair was watching him.

Though he felt his face burn at the implications, Altair held Malik’s gaze until the moment broke with a shuddering moan, distant but impossible for either of them to ignore. They turned away at the same time, unable to face each other to the sounds of their own names being choked down and cut off. He closed his eyes, wanting it all to stop— his growing fascination, the shiver running up his spine, those noises— and forced his hands to stay at his side, balled into fists so that he did not use them to cover his ears as Malik did to cover his mouth.