asscreedkinkmeme ([personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2011-11-16 12:25 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 4

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.4

Welcome to Constantinople

‡ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.

‡ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.

‡ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.

‡ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.

‡ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.

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‡ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!

List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
( Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 ( Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 5
Fills Only

Re: Fill - The Gestalt Touch 2/3

(Anonymous) 2011-12-02 10:06 am (UTC)(link)

"Fuck," he groans and Desmond grins, because, okay, this is working.

"Yeah, let's," he says. "Right now."

"Whu?" Sixteen says again, looking a little dazed.

"You know how long it's been since I've had sex?" Desmond demands breathlessly, and seriously, this might be the best idea he's had in years. He goes for the buttons on Sixteen's jeans, and if he thought he could get Sixteen to focus properly he could probably just get him to, Christ, make their clothes spontaneously disappear or something, and wow, suddenly the possibilities, the dirty, dirty possibilities of existing in a space made entirely from information makes Desmond's head reel. "Actually," he says, "I don't want to think about how long it's been since I've had sex. Let's just stay with, I want it now."

"Yeah," Sixteen agrees. "Yeah, okay. So do. I mean, Desmond, you're. I feel... That feels good."

And Jesus. Shit. Desmond drops his head against Sixteen's chest, and he can't hear words like that and not think about who Sixteen is, who he used to be, how much Desmond would fucking save him if he could and how terrified he is that Sixteen really is crazy enough to try and force himself along for the ride back to Desmond's body on the way out of the Black Room.

"Name," he grates, finally getting Sixteen's jeans undone and open, and he already knows what he's going to do and he's not going to stop long enough for either of them to think about it.

"What?" Sixteen gasps for a third time, when Desmond pushes his jeans down and pushes his hand inside his boxers and wraps his hand around Sixteen's dick.

"You had a name. What was it? What is it?"

"Clayton," Sixteen pants. "Clay."

Desmond grins and drops to his knees in front of him.

"Clay," he repeats. "Pay attention, okay? Because this is how it feels to have your dick sucked."

He doesn't wait for a response, just holds Clay's cock at the base, and leans forward far enough to suck it into his mouth.

"Fuck!" Clay grates, and immediately there are hands on Desmond's head and Clay is mindlessly thrusting himself further into the cavern of Desmond's mouth and screw it, Desmond doesn't care. It's not like his gag reflex is going to be an issue here, and he wants as much sensation as he can manage, even if it is artificial; wants to give Clay as much sensation as he can. Let him fuck his face. Desmond wants it. He wants to have the dirtiest sex he can think of for as long as he can, until Clay's overloaded with it, until they both are, until the Animus is going berserk at all the data they're wrecking just by doing it. It's probably crazy but he doesn't care.

"Fu- Fuck! Desmond! Oh, geez. Oh fuck..."

Clay sounds lost in a totally different way. Desmond slides off long enough to look up at him, stops long enough for Clay to draw in a shuddering breath and look down at him, his eyes huge, his face flushed, his mouth hanging slack and open.

"Fuck me," he tells him fast and hot and maybe it's just memory, just fake sensation, but he's hard and aching and he just wants to jerk himself off while Clay comes all over his face, just wants him to lose all control and push his face into the ground and pound him until he's screaming for it to stop. "Come on, Clay, just go for it. It's not like we got anywhere else to be. You remember how, right? You ever shoved it so far down someone's throat you can feel them swallowing?"

"You –" Clay says, staring like he just realised Desmond was God. "Jesus fucking Christ, Desmond."

When Clay moves, Desmond's more than ready, just opens his mouth and lets him shove it in and he remembers how hot and soft the skin of a hard cock is, what precome tastes like and how it slicks the back of his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He groans, loud, because he remembers how that feels, and the suggestion of vibration seems to be enough to trigger Clay's own memory because it forces an inarticulate sound out of him and then suddenly he's pushing so hard Desmond is forced to swallow around him.