Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 4

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Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.4

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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 5
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To Borrow with No Intention of Returning 5

[(Anonymous)]

“Oh, that would explain why I didn’t see you.”

He shrugged. “Anyway, I gotta be off.”

“Ah, right. Go take care of your magical rats.” She gave him an amused look. “Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

He almost let her walk off before Ezio kicked him again. She was already a few steps away.

“Tell her she’s beautiful and kiss her hand again!” he hissed.

Desmond flinched. “Hey, Adha…”

The woman looked at him, blinking. He got off the bike and walked over, smiling sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head.

“You’re beautiful,” he said before kissing her cheek and walking back to his bike, turning it on and speeding away.

He noticed as he drove out of the parking lot that she was still standing there, watching. Ezio congratulated him as he parked the bike at home.

“You’re on your way to snagging the woman.”

He snorted. “No, she’ll just dismiss me as another crazy guy. She’s probably got loads of guys telling her that she’s beautiful.”

“But I bet none of them look as good as you.”

“I bet differently, man.”

“You should have asked her where she works.”

“Probably as a model, so it’s hands-off for me.”

Ezio snorted. “I still think she likes you. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have looked so shocked when you kissed her cheek.”

“How do you know she wasn’t just surprised that I could just—”

“Why are you so negative toward yourself?” Ezio asked, looking up at him.

Desmond scoffed, dumping the bras on the floor. He let Ezio out at the counter before turning around to put away the groceries.

“I don’t know. Perhaps we should just consider everything I told the woman. I mean, to protect you guys from being found out, I told her I lived with magical fucking rats.”

“You told that to the patrons at the bar.”

“So? I’m not interested in any of them. I mean: unless you’d like Rebecca to move in. Or how about Shaun? I’m sure he’d brighten up the place.”

Ezio hissed, and Desmond scoffed. “See? I don’t care if they think I’m crazy.”

The tiny man sighed, and by the time Desmond was done putting away the groceries, both the man and the bras were gone. He sighed, running a hand across his scalp and looking out the window. He figured since he had nothing to do, he could go out and watch the moon and stars. He climbed up the side of his house and settled on the roof. The night was much more beautiful out here, rather than in the city. He stared at the skies until the moon was right above him, and with a bored huff, he walked back into the house.

He jerked at the pile of cloth scraps he saw. It wasn’t too big, but Desmond could identify several patches he had been planning on using. He noticed there were scraps of his jeans, and scraps of his work shirts, and scraps of the only coat he had owned before he bought the one he was currently wearing. And while he liked his new one better, that one had had a special place in his heart, now nothing more than a pile of ruined cloth. He stepped over and knelt down, sorting through them almost mechanically, turning them into piles of “use” and “trash.”

Not alarmingly, most of them were trash.

With a sigh, he rose and looked out the window. He felt so lost now that he didn’t have anything to do. Lucy was gone, so that meant no more spending time with her, and the thieves never showed their faces, so he was essentially alone. He put the scraps away in the cupboard before telling the little people that he wasn’t going to use the scraps still on the floor. He decided to wash his bike, taking his time, and take a shower before giving up and plopping into bed. It was two am. He curled up in his quilt and closed his eyes.

“Surely you’re not going to bed yet.”

He cracked one eye open, and Ezio was sitting on his bedside table, looking at him. He grunted. “Why not? I don’t have anything else to do.”

“You’re moping. Get out and do something.”

“Like what? Aside from my workplace, there isn’t much for me to do.”

“Then find something to do.”

“Like what? Most things cost money. I don’t have money. I didn’t even have money to buy your new beds.”

Ezio blinked, thinking hard. “You could go running.”

“Running?”

“No point in letting your belly get soft and squishy.”

“Why not? Women enjoy having a soft place to rest their head,” he said with a shit-eating grin as Ezio rolled his eyes.

“Get off your lazy ass,” the tiny man murmured, smirking.

Desmond scoffed, nevertheless getting up and slipping into his patch-pants. He waved the guy goodbye and drove back to the city, chaining his bike up just outside the park and looking around for a place to start.

It wasn’t until he was flying across the rooftops that he realized Ezio had been right. He felt wonderful as he felt the sweat slide down his neck and he tucked for a roll to land. The people gasped in surprise as he scrambled up the wall, and he smiled, pleased, as he felt the burn in his muscles from his recent lack of parkour. He used to do it all the time before he met Lucy, then only when he went to work, then only when Lucy wasn’t around after moving into the cottage. He grinned as he latched onto a fire escape and pulled himself up and onto the roof.

After a few hours, he stopped for a breather in the middle of the city and near jumped out of his skin when a hawk landed on the edge. He blinked at it, and it eyed him carefully before he saw a tiny man jump from its back. He tried to catch his breath quickly.

“Altair!”

He grinned, walking over and squatting by the edge of the building.

“What’s up, little man?”

He laughed at the scowl he got, those bright gold eyes glowing in the dark.

“What are you doing out here?” Altair asked. “And not at work?”

“I’m off tonight. Tuesdays and Thursdays are slow days, so I offered to be the one cut from the schedule to spend time with my girl, but I currently don’t have one, so—what are you doing here?”

Altair stared at him for just a moment before shaking his head. “I’m off to find something for our clan.”

“What is it?”

He watched as Altair sighed. “I’m off to find a large basket, just in case.”

“Why?”

“There have been rumors of an exterminator coming.”

Desmond was silent for a minute before frowning. “An exterminator?”

“The apartment complex patrons are sick of losing things and hearing things.”

“So why a basket?”

“So Clay can take us out of there altogether.”

“Will he need help?”

“Probably not. He’s agreed to take us to your house if things go sour.”

“This is the guy who’s house we’ll be living at?”

He looked at the hawk to see another little guy appear. This boy had blue eyes and black hair, and an aura that Desmond bet could charm the pants off a guy. Altair nodded.

“This is Desmond.”

“Pleasure, dude,” he responded, and the new kid grinned.

“You live in the middle of the country?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Clay’s afraid of you.”

“He should be, stealing my girlfriend and all. How many of you are there, so I know how many more bras I should buy?”

“Bras?”

He chuckled. “Hammocks—”

“Oh, there’s upwards of thirty of us.”

Desmond groaned. That meant a hell of a lot of people living in his floorboards.

“There’s only fifteen in Ezio’s clan,” Kadar said. “That house is much smaller than our apartment building.”

“Wait,” Desmond said, counting on his fingers. They currently had twenty bras. That’s enough to bed forty of the little guys. “So… the reason we went shopping today is so that when you guys come over, you’ll have a room to sleep. Minus about five.”

“So Ezio’s been preparing for us,” Altair murmured. “Tell him thank you for us.”

“Yeah. Will do. Do you need help with that basket task of yours? I have one at my house that I can lend you. But, uh, first we’d have to get back to my bike.”

“How long will that take?”

“Half an hour?”

Altair nodded. “Kadar, get back on the hawk. We’re going to Desmond’s house.”

Desmond rose, popped his back, and thought of the quickest way to get back before he took off running again, leaping from the building even though he hadn’t quiet caught his breath. By the time he reached his bike, it took all he had not to just collapse. And the worst part was that he now had to wash his work shirt—which was probably for the better anyway since he hadn’t washed it in two weeks. He checked for Altair and the hawk, and when he didn’t see it, he got on his bike and closed his eyes as he panted. That had been more of a workout than it should have been.

When he heard the screech of a hawk, he groaned. He pushed his keys into the ignition and sped off. The air felt wonderful as he cooled down, and he couldn’t help but smile as he pulled into his driveway. Desmond stepped off and entered, leaving the door open for the hawk. He didn’t flinch when the bird screeched and appeared on his counter. He rooted around until he found his cloth scraps basket. He tucked the scraps away and held out the basket toward the two tiny guys.

“Will this do?”

Altair climbed into it, walking around and trying to figure out how many of them could fit. Desmond watched him walk around in it and laughed when Kadar vaulted over the edge, tumbling into the basket.

“This is really cool!”

“But can you fit your clan and possessions into it?”

Altair was pacing around, counting steps and arm lengths until he was satisfied. Kadar looked bored out of his skull, and eventually hopped out of the basket to stare at Desmond. He blinked, looking down at the little guy.

“Yeah?”

“What was that strawberry thing you made Altair last time? He said it was really good.”

Desmond blinked, then chuckled and went to the fridge. “Want one?”

“Yes.”

He laughed at Altair’s quick response, and Kadar agreed. He took out the strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce and made for each a small strawberry, filled with chocolate and topped with whipped cream. He gave Kadar his first, waiting until Altair had agreed it was good enough and climbed out. He watched them eat, grinning at how messy they both got as the chocolate leaked out. The strawberries were bigger than their torsos, and he was surprised when both of them managed to pack all of it away. Altair sank into the basket in a bit of a food coma, and Kadar groaned in pain and contentment as flopped on the counter. Desmond picked him up gently and set him in the basket, covering it with a cloth and heading to the door. The hawk flew out ahead of him, and as he got on the bike, he realized the hawk was waiting for him to lead him to Clay’s. Eventually, he found himself in the rich district of the city, quite close to his bar, and he watched the hawk land on the balcony where Clay was.

After chaining up his bike, he trudged up the stairs, ignoring the stares he was getting from his patchwork jeans and his rumpled black shirt. It was times like this he was glad for his little cottage in the middle of nowhere. He walked to the door he hoped was right and knocked. After a few seconds, the door flew open, and he saw a wide-eyed Clay staring at him. He blinked.

“What’s up?”

“D-Desmond?”

He nodded, offering out the basket. “Got a delivery with two comatose little people.”

Clay blinked several times before snatching the basket and peeking inside. The man jerked, then muttered to himself for a moment before looking at him again. Desmond quirked an eyebrow.

“You okay, man—”

“I’m f-fine,” came the too-quick response.

“What’s wrong—”

“Nothing’s wr-rong. Nothing. I s-swear.” His brow furrowed as Clay cast a glace around the hallway, muttering to himself. “N-nothing. Nothing’s wrong. N-nothing!”

He jerked backward.

“F-fucking shit. She’s g-gonna be home soon-n.”

“Clay?”

He was met with a panicked look. “I g-gotta get out of here. Sh-she’s crazy!”

He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Clay, you can always come to my house.”

Clay gave him a wide-eyed look. “Promise?”

“Promise. Hell, I’ll be more than happy to talk bad about Lucy with you. Just bring your little people with you.”

The man started nodding so rapidly he thought that he was going to snap his own neck.

“Come on over whenever. We’ll have to share a bed, though.”

“That’s f-fine. Gotta g-go. Gotta get-t read-dy.”

The door then closed, leaving Desmond bewildered as to just what Lucy was doing to him. He hurried back to his bike, noticing the rising sun, and sped off, filled with a terrible sense of foreboding. When he passed a shady-looking gun shop in the lower end of town, he parked his car. Whatever Lucy was doing to Clay did not look good: he needed to be prepared, chaining his bike up, he stepped inside to find plenty of guns and other weaponry that didn’t look quite legal.

“Whaddya want, kid?”

He turned to see a gruff-looking old man smoking a cigarette. Then, he frowned and walked over. Sure, he didn’t have the money, but this was getting relatively spooky.

“Gimme your best for home defense.”

The man quirked an eyebrow. “Gotta license fer it?”

Desmond nodded, and the man grinned. His teeth were yellow and snaggled. “You ain’t got one. Do yas?”

Desmond frowned, and the old man laughed. “Neve’mind. Dint care. Deal’s a deal. Lemme show ya what we got.”

He followed the man to a small shelf with some nasty-looking guns.

“Whe’e ya live?”

“The country.”

“Why ya need the gun?”

“Crazy ex.”

The man laughed. “Then yer gonna want onna these babies. ‘Ow much do ya know about these?”

“Nothing. I’m gonna try a shooting range with whatever you sell me.”

The man grinned at him. “I cin show ya ‘ow to shoot’em in the back once we’re done.”

Desmond nodded, almost enjoying the creepy company. The man pulled off a black gun and held it up.

“It’s a Bushmasta Ca’bon 15 Centerfi’e Rifle.”