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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2011-11-16 12:25 pm
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
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion
Clear Skies 12b/13
(Anonymous) 2012-07-08 11:09 am (UTC)(link)"Che cosa?" Ezio demanded. Not now. "I have done nothing wrong."
"Look at me," the guard said. The shadow of his helmet covered his eyes.
"Let go." He was trying to take him away. The spring-loaded blade waited at Ezio's wrist.
"Come back." Behind him a juggler threw torches that left lingering lines of flame across the sky.
They were going to take him and lock him up in a cell like his father, where he would never see sky that wasn't through bars and there would be the constant mechanical sigh of the ventilation instead of screams or laughter or cries of wonder at the fireworks that boomed above them and stained them sunset red. "Let go of me!"
With a flick of his free wrist Ezio's blade leapt free and he sank it home in the guard's abdomen, through his armor without resistance. What struck against his palm was cloth and a body of hard muscle. The grip did not loosen and he did not bleed.
"Calm down. You must stop!"
Ezio twisted and the guard who was too strong grabbed his other hand, so he kicked and won a grunt of pain and the chance to turn and run. A woman in a blue gown and peacock feather mask gasped at the spectacle. With a sickening lurch as of falling he stumbled through her.
The body that grabbed him and threw him to the ground was one he remembered. The colors shifted and bled.
Desmond's face pressed against carpet, not cobblestones.
Robert was saying, "Desmond. Desmond. Can you hear me?"
Desmond tries to get out from under him. He growled in irritation. He wasn't even allowed to watch the dream to its conclusion. "Ti sento, io sono sveglio."
"Desmond!" He shook him by the shoulders hard enough that his bones seemed to realign. "What year is it?"
"I don't know, all right?" Desmond stared at the carpet he'd paced a hundred times. For an instant he caught the scent of smoke from a torch thrown high in the air to compete with the stars. Then it was gone. "Just let me go."
Robert got off him and Desmond got to his feet, ignoring the Templar's hand. The world tilted, he pitched forward, and Robert grabbed him anyway. Feeling a touch that matched what his other senses took in had a visceral intensity. Through his shirt he could feel the crease in the arm of Robert's jacket along his back.
"You've been lying," said Robert as he guided him to the couch. His voice had a note of reproach, as though Desmond owed him something.
"Yeah. Forgot I could do that, huh?"
Robert sat beside him without letting go. "How bad are the hallucinations?"
Desmond picked at the couch cushion and didn't answer.
"No more of the Animus," Robert said.
"What? No!" The sharp turn of Desmond's head made the apartment whirl around him. "I have to go back, just a few more times." Ezio was close, he was close, something in his blood knew it.
The bald Templar shook his head firmly. "It isn't worth the risk."
Desmond felt the ground crumbling from under his feet. He didn't know whether it was the effect of the Animus or of feeling that whatever Clay entrusted him to find was spinning out of his reach. "You're the one who put me in there in the first place."
"If the past was going to change your mind, it would have been done by now. You've seen more than enough."
And done a lot of it, Desmond thought with a sick feeling and the iron smell of blood. "You can't cut me off just like that."
"I can." Robert had the look of someone who wasn't used to being argued with. Obedience came with authority, and there was no higher authority than Templar.
He thought of never being in Ezio's skin again. He thought of standing on top of a church tower in Venice as the bells rang, heart high in his throat, feeling the wind tug his sleeves as he spread his arms and fell forward to fly. He thought of the secret he would never find.
Desmond was laughing, and the look of concern on Robert's face made him laugh harder.
"Jesus. Do you even notice how crazy this it? You, my worst enemy, the guy I've been on the run from ever since I found out I'm not like everybody else, you're keeping me out of a machine you put me in in the first place to try to convince me to help you play god and be tyrant guardian angel for brainwashed sheep-people you can't stand. You hate the way the world is and you're the one keeping it that way. This is what you call sane?"
Moving faster, palpable as a rapid strike of mass, Robert grabbed Desmond by the shirtfront and hauled him up to his face. He was by no measure a small man and Robert handled him like a ragdoll. He always had thought that his punches were holding back.
"Listen to me," he said, as if Desmond had a choice. "This world is not for us. You fight against something you refuse to understand. Your ancestors in the order you are trying to keep alive did nothing but murder and hope that someone better would come along to fill the gap. The Templars you despise have made a world where there is no more suffering, no more men dying alone in the dust or children hanged with their brothers. We have given them bread and miracles. You've seen what humans did when they had freedom; they proved they did not deserve to be free."
Robert's eyes had a fervor that could burn a hole in him. Desmond's pulse quickened at the physical danger, an echo from Ezio's world.
Suddenly he wanted to tell him everything. He wanted to make his enemy understand. "I was-"
He could feel Robert's knuckles jabbing against his collarbone. "You were a terrorist, Desmond."
This was the moment when a smart man, a rational man, would surrender. He was right, he had always been right, with a force as constant as gravity and inevitable as the ground beneath.
"I'm a free person," Desmond said, throwing it in his face like an accusation, "and no matter how much you pretend, so are you."
In the instant of breath after, he thought of the most humanly insane thing he could do, and kissed him.
Robert's mouth was softer than he thought, and there was something satisfying in the shock in the shape of his lips. He had to lean up to do it, and expected the next thing he felt to be his body flying across the room like a flung ragdoll. Instead the big man was very still. The huge hands on Desmond's shoulders did not push him far.
"What," Robert said very quietly, looking at him like he'd morphed into something strange and dangerous, "do you think you're doing?"
"I've seen how you look at me. You think I'm special, and if it was just the job you wouldn't care so much." Desmond was throwing words out like grapnel lines, hoping for something to catch. "You're sick of being safe and doing everything you're supposed to. I know I would be. You can lie but you never have to so you're not much good at it." He licked his lips, tongue catching on the scar that tasted of someone else's mouth. "So, yeah, to the point? Seducing you."
Desmond climbed on top of Robert, grabbing him by his jacket's lapels. His legs were firm and solid as tree trunks. His heart was pounding. This was stupid, and that was why he wanted to do it so badly. He still wasn't being smashed into the wall. He thought it was going to happen when Robert's fingers slowly laced around the back of his head, but that was to draw him in for a slower kiss this time, deeper and premeditated. Slow and thoughtful, but Desmond didn't want to think, so he rushed in hard and used the whole weight of his body to knock Robert sideways on the couch and land on top of him. He knew he was being humored and allowed, and that gave him a clean, bright anger that kept him from slipping back into the sane. He kissed him again. He didn't understand the shock of feeling stubble rasp against his cheek until he realized the horror belonged to Ezio, Ezio from the world where people could be hated or hanged. He smelled the breeze off the canal, and his clutching fingers tore the red and white pin off Robert's jacket.
"You're too clean," Desmond breathed as he straddled him and pulled off his hoodie and shirt so the cool, recycled air made pinpricks run down his arms. "I want to mess you up."
"You've done that," Robert said, and if Desmond had seen him smile before, it was never like this.
Desmond pulled his tie loose and tossed it away. Robert shrugged his jacket off his shoulders with a casual grace that was fascinating up close. He wore his mass with a control and ease that made it seem as though it were everyone else who was out of scale. Tiny buttons ran down his crisp white shirt. Desmond grabbed at the collar and tore them off, and took joy in the petty destruction. Robert's hands had the warmth he needed. When one of Robert's arms steadied him while the other worked off his pants, it occurred to Desmond that it was possible to be afraid, but the Templar uniform was kicked away and anything to fear went with it.
It wasn't until Robert nodded that Desmond realized he'd looked to him for permission. He explored the big man's body with his hands, fascinated at how real he felt, how undeniable. He was thick and solid where Desmond was wiry. It was so strange this could be happening here and now, that he was the one touching him. This was not predetermined. Desmond was the one who decided that his hand would travel under Robert's pectoral and down his ribs, between the muscles of his stomach.
"Christ, no wonder you barely moved when I punched you." His abdomen was like oak under Desmond's fingertips. "It must've been funny."
"I saw your courage." His fingers ran through Desmond's hair. "I was glad you were mine."
Desmond would have laughed at the idea of craving the company of someone who would attack you, if he hadn't understood. He kissed Robert again, and held onto the hard curve of his shoulders as the man's big hands undid his pants. He smelled like expensive cologne and the touch of vanity was so normal and human that it assuaged a rending, aching loneliness Desmond hadn't known was there. He thought of laughing people in masks and jugglers throwing fire at the stars, and threw his body onto Robert as though grabbing for something that floated in a flood. He was there and kept being there from moment to moment, kept continuous by the sound of his breath growing faster. Desmond's cock caught against him and the pulse of heat was a shock he was in no way prepared for, and he gasped and held tight to him and did it again and again.
"God," he kept whispering, "god."
Robert's hand on the small of his back guided him. When Desmond's cock pressed against his he let out a breath of desire that broke his ability to hold back in half and it was all his body then, with this untouchable man who was human and who wanted him, who he wanted, whose body seared electricity into his and whose gasps in his ear were beautiful. The power of being able to affect him like this swept over Desmond and made him shake, and Robert's leg hooked around him, and Robert's teeth scraped his neck hard enough to hurt, and he grabbed him and his hips bucked and there was no such thing as control.
Desmond lay on top of him after, as his breath came back and his heart slowed down, and saw what his eyes looked like close up. They talked a little about small things that wouldn't sway the strange, unexpected balance struck between them. Outside the window the faint city stars were up. He lay with his face resting on Robert's shoulder and watched the moon. It was quiet except for the hum of the ventilation, and for a while, they both forgot about the past.
OP
(Anonymous) 2012-07-08 06:57 pm (UTC)(link)Ah, the image of Des and Robert together is a nice one. (My headcanon is that Des isn't exactly tall, and Robert is a giant. I love height differences. <3 Ah, getting another prompt brewing in my head now. *runs of to plot*)
Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2012-07-09 08:00 am (UTC)(link)Now I'm curious about that other prompt!
OP
(Anonymous) 2012-07-09 09:59 pm (UTC)(link)