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
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Part 5
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Wrong Life, Wrong Body 2 [1/2]

[(Anonymous)]

He lay down on the Animus and closed his eyes after Shaun helped him hook up. With the Altair memories gone, that meant that they had to relive the entire memory, and as soon as he found himself on the path pounding back to Masyaf, he knew something was off. That eagle in front of him hadn’t been there in Abstergo, but he let it go as the same glitch that meant Altair couldn’t swim. He swallowed, feeling the thoughts of his ancestor flowing in steadily. He washed his wounds in a small creek, gently touching the baby fuzz on his head and grinning. Of course it would have been Altair. He jumped when the golden eagle landed beside him with a rabbit. This was most certainly not what he had expected from his ancestor. He had no idea Altair knew falconry.

“Well, this is an interesting development,” he heard Shaun’s voice in his ear.

As he sat there roasting the rabbit, he petted the eagle, feeling absolutely devastated and…

“Yeah, well wait until I tell you what I’m feeling.”

“Oh?”

“Depressed. And horny.”

There was silence. Then, “What?”

“You heard me. Altair wants to get laid—by the eagle.”

There was more silence as the memory was fast forwarded to the next morning as he rode into Masyaf and fought off his brethren. When Malik appeared, he had never been more grateful.

“Al Mualim has betrayed us.”

“Yes, betrayed his Templar allies as well.”

“How do you know?”

And when Desmond heard something about Altair’s “creation,” he was confused.

“Where did the eagle come from?”

He felt himself smirk. “This is my mate of many years, Malik. There will be time for introductions later. Safety and peace, my friend.”

“Your presence will deliver us all.”

And then he had control of the body, and he just stood there.

“Did he just say…”

He could hear Shaun sniggering in his ear. “Mate, mate. Your ancestor took the eagle thing a wee bit too far.”

Desmond blinked. “Mate. He slept with an—wait, then how did he end up with Maria? She was no-shit woman!”

There was silence again.

“Uh,” he heard Shaun say after a bit. “Well… I don’t know.”

Desmond growled and took off after Al Mualim. The adrenaline coursed in his veins, and as he plunged the blade into Al Mualim’s throat, he felt that comforting feeling envelop him, and then he blinked. Everything had grown. He heard a bird call, and he watched Altair’s “mate” fly down beside him. He was shorter than the mate. He went to reach out and touch her, but he was alarmed to find his arm was a wing.

“An… eagle?” he heard Shaun breathe.

There was the warning of desyncing, and he found himself resurfacing from the memory with a gasp. There was a silence between them, and he looked at Shaun, who looked thoroughly shocked. Then, Desmond found himself grinning, and Shaun bit his lip, and then he started giggling, and Shaun covered his mouth to suppress his laughter, and everything was on a downhill tumble until they both had tears in their eyes from trying to hold back laughter.

“He really was an eagle?” Desmond rasped around his laughter.

“Looks like Malik’s accusations of him being a birdbrain were grounded in fact!” Shaun hissed back, doubled over in his chair, his glasses on his desk.

Desmond’s lip was bleeding from biting it so hard, and he drew a deep breath, holding out a hand for Shaun’s attention. He watched as Shaun looked at him, and he drew his fists near his armpits and started flapping.

“C-caw, motherfucker!”

And that did it. They couldn’t hold it back any longer, and they were roaring with laughter as they were lost within the image of Altair as an eagle and the utter ludicrousness of the fact that there was actually a bird lost somewhere in Desmond’s lineage. They managed to wake Lucy and Rebecca with their rambunctious guffawing, and it only earned them several glares and threats before the women settling back down, promising an interrogation tomorrow. When they finally calmed down, Shaun snorted.

“So Desmond, how does it feel to know that ‘Ibn-La’Ahad’ is the truth, and that your idiocy is excusable by the… bird… in your family genes?”

Desmond gave him a shit-eating grin. “Watch yourself, Hastings, or I’ll peck your eyes out.”

“Desmond, I am not a chicken,” he heard as Altair appeared beside Shaun.

“Ooo, I’m so scared.”

“Oh, my ‘pologies, Altair. I’m gonna claw your eyes out.”

“Oh, Altair is here? Perhaps you should start squawking to him.”

“He told me that he was not a chicken.”

Shaun snorted, and he watched Altair’s eyes narrow at the British man. “Of course, Desmond. Whatever the voices tell you. Though that does explain your ridiculous behaviors.”

“Huh?”

“Just look at your sleeping bag.”

He did so, and it looked like a mess, to be quite honest, piled with pillows and blankets around the edges. It was actually super comfortable, and Desmond liked it.

“Of course you do,” Altair murmured. “It’s a nest.”

And then the image clicked into place. It was a nest. It was a large nest, spilling over the sides of this sleeping bag. It was huge.

“Much larger than the ones I used to make, I will admit.”

So then, his territorial and settling down problems spawned from his bird ancestor.

“Yes,” Altair murmured.

And his hatred of clothing probably also came from Altair.

“Of course.”

And his dreams to settle down with a partner and have kids—

“Mating instincts. You’re ready to have children.”

His eyes grew wide, and he paled. “Sh-Shaun…”

“Yes?”

“I’m part fucking bird.”

“Think of it this way, Desmond,” Shaun said, putting his glasses on and leaning back in his chair, “only a extremely thin vein of that blood is in you—”

“But the bleeding!”

Shaun was quiet for a moment. “Perhaps then your habits are coming from him.”

“But I’ve always enjoyed having things on my bed and having area to patrol. I’ve always wanted a partner and kids. I’ve always hated wearing clothes!”

Shaun frowned, watching him closely and staring at his head. “Then perhaps you’re just related to him more than you thought. Dominant and recessive genes and whatnot.”

“But why me? Why didn’t my mom or dad have problems with that?”

“How do you know they didn’t? You were only there until you were sixteen, and those were not the years to bond with your parents and find out their dirty secrets.”

He just stared at Shaun. It was as if everything was just sailing over his head. Apparently to Shaun, it didn’t matter that Desmond was part bird. He was a fucking animal. He had animal blood in him.

“Yes, Desmond,” Altair said. “Don’t let it distract you. Use it to your advantage.”

He was going to die. He was part bird. He was part fukken bird. He was not even human by Those Who Came Before’s standards. He was a hybrid by the hybrids’ standards. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder to see Shaun super close, his brow crinkled. He stared into the man’s eyes—and swore he saw worry there.

“Desmond. It’s just a bird. Don’t freak out. You’re still human. Otherwise, Altair would not have been able to have descendents.”

“I have bird blood in my veins. I have—”

He was stopped by a hand over his mouth and Shaun crouching in front of him. “Desmond, calm down.”

He was still a little panicked. He was related to a bird.

“Not a bird, Desmond. A human who was a bird. Do not confuse them.”

He stared at Shaun.

“If Altair had been a bird when he mated, there would be no way that you were here today with us.”

Desmond watched him carefully as Shaun’s other hand came up and slowly started running his fingers over his torn-up scalp. He swallowed, blinking, and curled his toes slightly. It did feel rather good, but he didn’t quite want to quell the pain yet.

“It’s common,” he heard Malik say somewhere behind him. “Altair loved his back rubbed.”

He glanced over Shaun’s shoulder at the man, who was leaning on Shaun’s desk.

“All animals enjoy being petting. Even humans. Why else would a back rub feel so good?”

Desmond’s nose twitched, and he blinked again as he heard Shaun shush him. The man’s hand was still clamped over his mouth, but those other fingers were now gently scratching his head, and he couldn’t deny it felt wonderful. He blinked again, hearing Shaun chuckle, and he had to admit he liked his laugh. Preferably when it wasn’t directed at him, but he could only hope.

“Christ, you’re as noisy as a parrot.”

He looked back at the man, who was still laughing quietly. He furrowed his brow, not bothering to talk around the massive hand.

“You’re making all these high chirps. Has no one ever scratched your head?”

He glared at Shaun, earning a snort.

“You are such an idiot.”

Still, he paid attention to himself the next time Shaun started rubbing his head, and he tried his damnedest to squish the noises. It wouldn’t do him any good to reaffirm the fact that he was part bird. He wasn’t going to give in. No, not especially since this was the first time he was ever given such a head rub, and it felt so wonderful.

“Doesn’t it though? Malik gave me one once. Although I did prefer his back rubs.”

He caught himself in the middle of a chirpy noise.

“So extremely talkative,” Shaun murmured, and Desmond scowled as he lowered his hand. “Was Altair like this?”

He glanced over Shaun’s shoulder as Malik scoffed. “He was much quieter.”

“No. He was quieter.”

“Who’s standing behind me?”

“Malik. And Altair.”

“For how long?”

“Not too long.”

He looked when he heard Shaun hum, and the man hadn’t moved from his personal bubble at all, still staring intensely at him. “Desmond.”

He blinked, scowling as the fingers stop moving. He’s about to get in trouble, he knew, because it was that same tone that Lucy adopted when she was about to chastise him for something. He glanced when he saw Malik and Altair vanish.

“How bad is the Bleeding Effect right now?”

“Nothing to be concerned about,” he snapped. “Lucy already knows it all.”

“Mm-hm… And, do you have a way to keep you from bleeding like a lunatic?”

“What?”

“I mean,” Shaun began, “if the bleeding ever gets too bad, do you have a way to pull yourself out of it?”

“What? No. Don’t be stupid. I can’t.”

Shaun’s lips didn’t even twitch, just kept staring at him. It was beginning to make him nervous. It wasn’t even a “friendly” stare, but that intense, judging-the-soul stare.

“Are you sure?”

Desmond scowled. “Yeah, duh. How could I pull myself out of something involuntary anyway?”

Shaun stared at him a moment more before humming and stepping back, back to his work desk and away from him. He rolled his eyes and rose, walking over to his “nest” and settling down. He realized, much to his chagrin, that he wanted Shaun to continue rubbing his head, and he was surprised when he heard the man get up and walk over, sitting in his nest with him and rubbing his head gently. He didn’t even care about the noises he would be making because he felt so wonderful as he eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.