asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.

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

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Good lord yes.
Wanting with the heat of a supernova.

Sorry for not posting this earlier, but it developed a life of it's own and grew and grew and grew lol. Had a problem with the fact that all the dialog between the lovers was in italic on my pc, representing Mohawk language, but when I posted it, it didn't show :(, sorry, but you'll just have to keep in mind that they don't talk English when alone :) English ain't my first language, this has not been beta'd and I am not infallible, so there may be some mistakes that I have not seen... Hope you like it, second and third part are in writing... =================================================================== Connor's eyes were dropping. He was feeling so exhausted, that he was glad his horse would know the way back from Prudence and Warren's farm. Achilles and his bizarre wishes, sometimes the man really managed to piss him off. Not enough that he had nearly not had any decent sleep for weeks, no, the second he gets home and wants nothing more than a bath, a meal and his bed the man comes up with the most exquisite demands. Chicken... The old man had been missing chicken for his recipe... Frowning and positively beaming with a fed-upness he seldom felt, he rode back, fighting sleep and lost in thoughts. That was until he heard some rustling in the bushes. He knew that in this parts animals were rare, and it sounded more like a bear than a rabbit anyways. And those definitely didn't live around here. His exhaustion was forgotten, his body had gotten so used to it to the point where it managed to conjure the last energy that was left and he jumped of his horse and quickly made his way up into the trees. His sight helped him quickly locate the source of the noise and once he was above the bush, he jumped and tackled the person. Only to have his lover squeak like a little girl when his body hit him and crashed on top of his back. “Kané... What are you doing here?” Kanen'tó:kon was used to his lover not being the most expressive when it came to emotions, hell, he could be happy when he didn't flinch out of a hug most of the time, but Kanen'tó:kon had missed him so badly that he couldn't spend time talking or staying on the floor in front of him like a fool. He jumped up and walked up to the Assassin, grabbed his face tenderly in his hands and locked their lips after whispering“I missed you” Connor needed a moment but then relaxed into the embrace, his arms moving around his friend and his face nestling his neck“I missed you too”. A split second of vulnerability... The kind only a few very selected people were allowing him to feel, or were allowed to witness. And here on his turf, his grounds, his lands, well Achilles and his, he felt a bit safer than elsewhere. And he had to admit to himself that he had often thought of Kanen'tó:kon, and had missed him awfully. But he had been too busy to travel to his village but apparently he wasn't the only one. With Kanen'tó:kon, he relived happy childhood moments... Splashing around in a river, climbing trees and racing through them, catching their dinner and then relaxing around a fire while eating and laughing. It was those simple and quiet moments that he cherished the most and that happened way too rarely. Kanen'tó:kon played with the ends of his hair, gently tugging when he saw his friend was lost in thoughts“You probably didn't even think of me with all those important missions you have” “That is not true”, checking his most trusted friend and lover, he was glad he hadn't hurt him with his drop“Is there something amiss in the village? Do you need something?” “You...” “Me?” “Ratohnhake:ton ... Do I always need a reason to come to you?” “No, of course not, but...” Kanen'tó:kon put a finger on his lips “Sshh... What were you up to?” “Achilles needed chicken” Kanen'tó:kon gazed at him then puffed, laughing hearty and playfully pushing him“Really? Life-saving mission that is...” then grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the path where the horse was waiting “Let's get the chicken to Achilles then, before he starves, the man looked like dropping any moment” “You have been to the manor?” “Yes, he told me you were on your way back and I wanted to see if I could sneak up on you...”, he grinned “But no, you had to destroy my plans”. Connor shook his head “That was a very dangerous thing to do Kané” “I knew you would not hurt me...” “It was reckless, I could have hurt you...” “I am not easily breakable” They walked the rest of the way in silence, Connor's horse following them, thumbs caressing the other's hand and glances being exchanged. Kanen'tó:kon took in the changes in his lover. He looked like hell. Dark circles framed his eyes and he looked exhausted. After a while he leaned over and gave him a playful peck on the cheek “Are you alright?” “Yes... I came back from New York today and haven't had time to rest or bath yet” “You will rest tonight...” Connor smiled “Yes, I will...” Achilles already awaited them “Ah, you have found him...” “Yes, he jumped me” Connor shook his head, still a bit annoyed that Kanen'tó:kon would risk his life like that, sneaking up on an Assassin was a real dumb thing to do “It was your fault, you should know better than trying to sneak up on me... I could have hurt you...” “But you didn't” “No, but I could have...” “Yes, but you did not” “You do not understand me Kanen'tó:kon...”, he switched to Mohawk “I do not wish to see you hurt” “And you didn't hurt me... I agree that you spooked me, but that is all” Achilles, who had followed their little exchange with obvious amusement, pushed them towards the kitchen with his wooden walking stick “Well boys, how about you help an old man a bit” “Of course...” They passed a nice moment together during dinner before Achilles excused himself to leave them to themselves. Kanen'tó:kon helped Connor prepare a bath and then helped him undress, which considering the layers the man always wore was no small undertaking. Once he was naked, Kanen'tó:kon let his hands roam his body, taking in the magnificent sight in front of him. He felt some parts of his body quickly awakening, but he knew that Connor needed rest and a good night of sleep right now, not an insatiable lover who would only add to his exhaustion. They would have time for that tomorrow. Connor noticed his gaze and blushed a bit. It still amazed him that Kanen'tó:kon always paid him compliments and looked at him if he was the most beautiful person on earth. He bend down a bit and kissed Kanen'tó:kon, nibbling on his lower lip, his hands put on the other one's hips. Kanen'tó:kon gently nudged him towards the steaming bath “In there with you, those fabulous muscles need soothing and relaxing” Connor grinned and moved towards it, giving Kanen'tó:kon a perfect view of his backside, which was as impressive as his front. A few more scars adorned his back and legs, but even the largest of them didn't take away from his beauty. Not in Kanen'tó:kon's eyes. He started undressing too, looking forward to spend a moment in the warm water with his lover. Connor was already relaxing in the steaming basin and only opened his eyes when the water moved and a body slid next to his “Move a bit...” “Kané...” Years of practice with Connor and his antics made him grin “Really Ratohnhake:ton ...”. Kanen'tó:kon pushed him a bit, ignoring the groan and placed himself behind him, pulling him against his chest “Now relax...”. It took Connor a while before the tension left his body, he was so used to being guarded and alert at all times that even now, with his lover, he had problems unwinding. Hands were ghosting over his arms, then slid around and ended on his chest. Kanen'tó:kon whispered in his ear “You have gotten bigger...” “No” “Oh yes... You have added muscles...”, he kissed his shoulder and let his hand slide to Connor's impressive pecs “Lots of muscles”. His thumb brushed over the nipple making Connor shudder a bit and sigh sleepily “No I have not...” “Yes you have ... I only lost unnecessary fat that is all, but you earned muscles, you have the perfect body of a warrior...” “Kanen'tó:kon...” “Sshhh, don't argue... Rest now...” It didn't take long and Connor was peacefully dozing, his breathing evening out and his body completely relaxed against Kanen'tó:kon's. Kanen'tó:kon let him rest for a bit, his hands trailing little patterns on his skin. The muscled body was just magnificent and a sight to behold. He had changed so much since moving to the homestead and still was changing. The boy he had loved had become a man, a beautiful tall and big one. Kanen'tó:kon would have never thought Connor to be interested in him as anything as a good friend and had been in heaven when they had first exchanged a kiss as teenagers. Unfortunately soon after that Connor had left their village and most of their relationship had blossomed through rare meetings and stolen moments. That was why he was here now. He had started missing his lover so badly, that his restlessness had made their Clan Mother put him on a horse and telling him not to come back before not having spent some time with Connor. It took some time for Kanen'tó:kon to notice that the water had considerably cooled down and that it would be a good idea to wake Connor and relocate to his bedroom. He sighed softly, he was so comfortable like this, but they would be better in bed. “Connor?”, he shook him gently “Connor?” Connor pressed against him and turned his head so he could kiss Kanen'tó:kon on the corner of his mouth, mumbling“Hmmmm?” “Let's get you out of here and into bed” Connor nodded but didn't move an inch. Kanen'tó:kon smirked and bit his neck playfully “Now...” “Hmmmm, yes...”, but the Assassin still didn't show any signs of movement, so Kanen'tó:kon got up, pulling him up “You can sleep soon” Connor stretched, making Kanen'tó:kon drool a bit and lean against his broad back “You are so beautiful” “Kané, stop please... I am nothing special” Kanen'tó:kon shook his head and grabbed a towel “You are blind my friend”. Connor was too tired to argue and fought another yawn as he stood there, half leaning against Kanen'tó:kon and being dried by him.“Bed, now...” “Kanen'tó:kon, I have to plan the next convoys...” “You will tomorrow...” “I have to...”, Kanen'tó:kon shook his head and interrupted him“You have to rest... You have the look of someone who will fall asleep standing... The convoy won't leave tonight, so you can do that tomorrow...” “I cannot start postponing things because of exhaustion Kanen'tó:kon” “Did our Clan Mother not tell you to look after yourself...” “I will when all of my wars have been fought Kané, when our village and our people are safe and my father and the other Templars are dead...” Kanen'tó:kon sighed, but was not ready to admit defeat “I will help you tomorrow”, fingers ghosted over his chest “but now your body”, the hand moved to his cheek “and your mind need rest...”. Kanen'tó:kon kissed him tenderly “Bed... Now...”. He wrapped him into a blanket and did the same, then pushed him towards his room. Connor really wanted to fight him, but deep inside he knew his lover was right. And he wanted to spend a moment in his arms, one night of peaceful sleep, real rest and no nightmares. Just forget all the bad things for a short moment. Five minutes later they were laying in bed, a cool breeze kissing their skin. Connor sighed deeply “We still have to close the window...” Kanen'tó:kon slowly passed a hand through Connor's hair and played with the single braid“Why?” “Someone may enter from there...” “No one will... Sleep, I will watch you, no one will get to you... You are safe my love”, Kanen'tó:kon pulled him into his arms, chuckling when the big frame of his lover awkwardly curled around him “I am glad you still fit in my arms” Connor lifted his head from his chest and gave him a kiss “I will always fit in your arms”. Connor really felt good. The bath had completely relaxed his body and he felt heavy with sleep. Knowing he always slept like a god when he was in Kanen'tó:kon's arms he looked forward to a reinvigorating night of sleep. He snuggled even closer and soon drifted of, cradled in his lover's arms who gently traced his spine up and down and enjoyed the moment. They didn't have the chance to lay like this often, in a comfortable bed, safe and warm. When they met somewhere in the Frontier it was nice, but Connor was never really relaxed, constantly alert and checking the surroundings and only sleeping for short amounts of time. Here in his manor he usually managed to let go and feel safe. It was a lot more pleasant like this. He contemplated his life-long friend for a long moment, kissing his head before he too let sleep wash over him. ============================================================= Part 2 will follow soon :)

Sorry for not posting this earlier, but it developed a life of it's own and grew and grew and grew lol. Had a problem with the fact that all the dialog between the lovers was in italic on my pc, representing Mohawk language, but when I posted it, it didn't show :(, sorry, but you'll just have to keep in mind that they don't talk English when alone :) English ain't my first language, this has not been beta'd and I am not infallible, so there may be some mistakes that I have not seen... Hope you like it, second and third part are in writing...

Connor's eyes were dropping. He was feeling so exhausted, that he was glad his horse would know the way back from Prudence and Warren's farm. Achilles and his bizarre wishes, sometimes the man really managed to piss him off. Not enough that he had nearly not had any decent sleep for weeks, no, the second he gets home and wants nothing more than a bath, a meal and his bed the man comes up with the most exquisite demands. Chicken... The old man had been missing chicken for his recipe... Frowning and positively beaming with a fed-upness he seldom felt, he rode back, fighting sleep and lost in thoughts.

That was until he heard some rustling in the bushes. He knew that in this parts animals were rare, and it sounded more like a bear than a rabbit anyways. And those definitely didn't live around here. His exhaustion was forgotten, his body had gotten so used to it to the point where it managed to conjure the last energy that was left and he jumped of his horse and quickly made his way up into the trees. His sight helped him quickly locate the source of the noise and once he was above the bush, he jumped and tackled the person. Only to have his lover squeak like a little girl when his body hit him and crashed on top of his back.

“Kané... What are you doing here?”

Kanen'tó:kon was used to his lover not being the most expressive when it came to emotions, hell, he could be happy when he didn't flinch out of a hug most of the time, but Kanen'tó:kon had missed him so badly that he couldn't spend time talking or staying on the floor in front of him like a fool. He jumped up and walked up to the Assassin, grabbed his face tenderly in his hands and locked their lips after whispering“I missed you”

Connor needed a moment but then relaxed into the embrace, his arms moving around his friend and his face nestling his neck“I missed you too”. A split second of vulnerability... The kind only a few very selected people were allowing him to feel, or were allowed to witness. And here on his turf, his grounds, his lands, well Achilles and his, he felt a bit safer than elsewhere. And he had to admit to himself that he had often thought of Kanen'tó:kon, and had missed him awfully. But he had been too busy to travel to his village but apparently he wasn't the only one. With Kanen'tó:kon, he relived happy childhood moments... Splashing around in a river, climbing trees and racing through them, catching their dinner and then relaxing around a fire while eating and laughing. It was those simple and quiet moments that he cherished the most and that happened way too rarely.

Kanen'tó:kon played with the ends of his hair, gently tugging when he saw his friend was lost in thoughts“You probably didn't even think of me with all those important missions you have”

“That is not true”, checking his most trusted friend and lover, he was glad he hadn't hurt him with his drop“Is there something amiss in the village? Do you need something?”

“You...”

“Me?”

“Ratohnhake:ton ... Do I always need a reason to come to you?”

“No, of course not, but...”

Kanen'tó:kon put a finger on his lips “Sshh... What were you up to?”

“Achilles needed chicken”

Kanen'tó:kon gazed at him then puffed, laughing hearty and playfully pushing him“Really? Life-saving mission that is...” then grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the path where the horse was waiting “Let's get the chicken to Achilles then, before he starves, the man looked like dropping any moment”

“You have been to the manor?”

“Yes, he told me you were on your way back and I wanted to see if I could sneak up on you...”, he grinned “But no, you had to destroy my plans”.

Connor shook his head “That was a very dangerous thing to do Kané”

“I knew you would not hurt me...”

“It was reckless, I could have hurt you...”

“I am not easily breakable”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Connor's horse following them, thumbs caressing the other's hand and glances being exchanged. Kanen'tó:kon took in the changes in his lover. He looked like hell. Dark circles framed his eyes and he looked exhausted. After a while he leaned over and gave him a playful peck on the cheek “Are you alright?”

“Yes... I came back from New York today and haven't had time to rest or bath yet”

“You will rest tonight...”

Connor smiled “Yes, I will...”

Achilles already awaited them “Ah, you have found him...”

“Yes, he jumped me”

Connor shook his head, still a bit annoyed that Kanen'tó:kon would risk his life like that, sneaking up on an Assassin was a real dumb thing to do “It was your fault, you should know better than trying to sneak up on me... I could have hurt you...”

“But you didn't”

“No, but I could have...”

“Yes, but you did not”

“You do not understand me Kanen'tó:kon...”, he switched to Mohawk “I do not wish to see you hurt”

“And you didn't hurt me... I agree that you spooked me, but that is all”

Achilles, who had followed their little exchange with obvious amusement, pushed them towards the kitchen with his wooden walking stick “Well boys, how about you help an old man a bit”

“Of course...”

They passed a nice moment together during dinner before Achilles excused himself to leave them to themselves. Kanen'tó:kon helped Connor prepare a bath and then helped him undress, which considering the layers the man always wore was no small undertaking. Once he was naked, Kanen'tó:kon let his hands roam his body, taking in the magnificent sight in front of him. He felt some parts of his body quickly awakening, but he knew that Connor needed rest and a good night of sleep right now, not an insatiable lover who would only add to his exhaustion. They would have time for that tomorrow. Connor noticed his gaze and blushed a bit. It still amazed him that Kanen'tó:kon always paid him compliments and looked at him if he was the most beautiful person on earth. He bend down a bit and kissed Kanen'tó:kon, nibbling on his lower lip, his hands put on the other one's hips. Kanen'tó:kon gently nudged him towards the steaming bath “In there with you, those fabulous muscles need soothing and relaxing”

Connor grinned and moved towards it, giving Kanen'tó:kon a perfect view of his backside, which was as impressive as his front. A few more scars adorned his back and legs, but even the largest of them didn't take away from his beauty. Not in Kanen'tó:kon's eyes. He started undressing too, looking forward to spend a moment in the warm water with his lover. Connor was already relaxing in the steaming basin and only opened his eyes when the water moved and a body slid next to his “Move a bit...”

“Kané...”

Years of practice with Connor and his antics made him grin “Really Ratohnhake:ton ...”. Kanen'tó:kon pushed him a bit, ignoring the groan and placed himself behind him, pulling him against his chest “Now relax...”. It took Connor a while before the tension left his body, he was so used to being guarded and alert at all times that even now, with his lover, he had problems unwinding. Hands were ghosting over his arms, then slid around and ended on his chest. Kanen'tó:kon whispered in his ear “You have gotten bigger...”

“No”

“Oh yes... You have added muscles...”, he kissed his shoulder and let his hand slide to Connor's impressive pecs “Lots of muscles”. His thumb brushed over the nipple making Connor shudder a bit and sigh sleepily “No I have not...”

“Yes you have ... I only lost unnecessary fat that is all, but you earned muscles, you have the perfect body of a warrior...”

“Kanen'tó:kon...”

“Sshhh, don't argue... Rest now...”

It didn't take long and Connor was peacefully dozing, his breathing evening out and his body completely relaxed against Kanen'tó:kon's. Kanen'tó:kon let him rest for a bit, his hands trailing little patterns on his skin. The muscled body was just magnificent and a sight to behold. He had changed so much since moving to the homestead and still was changing. The boy he had loved had become a man, a beautiful tall and big one. Kanen'tó:kon would have never thought Connor to be interested in him as anything as a good friend and had been in heaven when they had first exchanged a kiss as teenagers. Unfortunately soon after that Connor had left their village and most of their relationship had blossomed through rare meetings and stolen moments. That was why he was here now. He had started missing his lover so badly, that his restlessness had made their Clan Mother put him on a horse and telling him not to come back before not having spent some time with Connor.

It took some time for Kanen'tó:kon to notice that the water had considerably cooled down and that it would be a good idea to wake Connor and relocate to his bedroom. He sighed softly, he was so comfortable like this, but they would be better in bed. “Connor?”, he shook him gently “Connor?”

Connor pressed against him and turned his head so he could kiss Kanen'tó:kon on the corner of his mouth, mumbling“Hmmmm?”

“Let's get you out of here and into bed”

Connor nodded but didn't move an inch. Kanen'tó:kon smirked and bit his neck playfully “Now...”

“Hmmmm, yes...”, but the Assassin still didn't show any signs of movement, so Kanen'tó:kon got up, pulling him up “You can sleep soon”

Connor stretched, making Kanen'tó:kon drool a bit and lean against his broad back “You are so beautiful”

“Kané, stop please... I am nothing special”

Kanen'tó:kon shook his head and grabbed a towel “You are blind my friend”. Connor was too tired to argue and fought another yawn as he stood there, half leaning against Kanen'tó:kon and being dried by him.“Bed, now...”

“Kanen'tó:kon, I have to plan the next convoys...”

“You will tomorrow...”

“I have to...”, Kanen'tó:kon shook his head and interrupted him“You have to rest... You have the look of someone who will fall asleep standing... The convoy won't leave tonight, so you can do that tomorrow...”

“I cannot start postponing things because of exhaustion Kanen'tó:kon”

“Did our Clan Mother not tell you to look after yourself...”

“I will when all of my wars have been fought Kané, when our village and our people are safe and my father and the other Templars are dead...”

Kanen'tó:kon sighed, but was not ready to admit defeat “I will help you tomorrow”, fingers ghosted over his chest “but now your body”, the hand moved to his cheek “and your mind need rest...”. Kanen'tó:kon kissed him tenderly “Bed... Now...”. He wrapped him into a blanket and did the same, then pushed him towards his room. Connor really wanted to fight him, but deep inside he knew his lover was right. And he wanted to spend a moment in his arms, one night of peaceful sleep, real rest and no nightmares. Just forget all the bad things for a short moment.

Five minutes later they were laying in bed, a cool breeze kissing their skin. Connor sighed deeply “We still have to close the window...”

Kanen'tó:kon slowly passed a hand through Connor's hair and played with the single braid“Why?”

“Someone may enter from there...”

“No one will... Sleep, I will watch you, no one will get to you... You are safe my love”, Kanen'tó:kon pulled him into his arms, chuckling when the big frame of his lover awkwardly curled around him “I am glad you still fit in my arms”

Connor lifted his head from his chest and gave him a kiss “I will always fit in your arms”. Connor really felt good. The bath had completely relaxed his body and he felt heavy with sleep. Knowing he always slept like a god when he was in Kanen'tó:kon's arms he looked forward to a reinvigorating night of sleep. He snuggled even closer and soon drifted of, cradled in his lover's arms who gently traced his spine up and down and enjoyed the moment. They didn't have the chance to lay like this often, in a comfortable bed, safe and warm. When they met somewhere in the Frontier it was nice, but Connor was never really relaxed, constantly alert and checking the surroundings and only sleeping for short amounts of time. Here in his manor he usually managed to let go and feel safe. It was a lot more pleasant like this. He contemplated his life-long friend for a long moment, kissing his head before he too let sleep wash over him.

Part 2 will follow soon :)

Read some snippets of Forsaken and heard about the Washington betrayal (haven't gotten there in game yet) and even though there is a very strong implication that Washington did order the burning of Connor's village, I'd like to request a fic that explores the possibility that a) Haytham is lying/made up the information or b) Charles Lee lied to Haytham in Forsaken when he said that Washington burned down the village.

It's quite interesting to me that, knowing just how much a propensity to lie when it suits their needs both Haytham and Charles Lee have, there is very little questioning going on that not everything is as it is seems (or maybe it's just made very clear, and I haven't seen the correct snippets?).

Actually, it'd be very cool if someone decided to go with the second option from Haytham's POV towards the end. He seems so adamant (again, from online snippets) that Charles Lee is good for the Order and necessary, but if Charles actually lied about burning down Connor's village, he, in effect, created Connor the Assassin. Ergo, Charles Lee would have done a shitload of harm to the order for absolutely no reason other than his own personal contempt for Native Americans and his dislike of Haytham's fondness for Ziio (that's how I read it as he always seems so uncomfortable when it comes to her).

Not sure if I need to put up a spoiler warning for the Forsaken tidbits, but can't hurt to be safe. :)

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You know how William punched Desmond and told him he's doing everything for Desmond's future? And, in Forsaken anyways, Haytham bought the Templar line hook and sinker because of what happened to his father and sister (and how he tries hard to convert Connor)?

And then, of course, Desmond sacrificed himself. For humanity's future. And Haytham joined the group of people who were directly responsible for his sister's kidnapping and his father's death. Not to mention...he nearly succeeded in strangling Connor. Anons, I'd love a fic that explores the irony in pursuing a goal for the good of the future of your children and family...and ending up sacrificing that family/children on the altar of achieving that goal.

I've seen a fic request for Connor living through multiple lives and making different decisions. How about Haytham waking up after he dies, back in the body of his earlier (up to anon! author how old) self. What would he do differently? What would he do the same?

Beautiful, anon, beautiful. And Haytham's guest appearance was just too funny.

Hmm...well since people are suggesting Dobby, would OP like to have a fill for Connor/Dobby?

Let me love you ;__________________________;!!!
I was waiting for something like that since always, you have just saved my life... <3
Your story is amazing and so tender ;v; it's so beautiful to see them togheter in so peaceful moments! I can't help myself but squealing in joyfull happyness ;v;!
I love the way you described of Kanen'tò:kon, it's just like I've ever thinked about him! So, thank you for your time ;v; and I can't wait to read more about them... thank you so much!

Don't worry about a thing, writer!anon! I'm not a native english speaker either, so I know how hard it is to write in a language that's not your own and I appreciate this beautiful fill all the more for it.

About the fic, I loved how they've been in a relationship ever since teenagerhood and it was simply heartwarming to see them so protective towards each other.
This one line: “I do not wish to see you hurt” broke my heart just a little as I though about their fate. I loved it when Connor said “I will when all of my wars have been fought Kané, when our village and our people are safe and my father and the other Templars are dead...”
That's just so much like him!

And also, mmmm, I have a huge size-king so all the sentences about Connor being big and tall and muscolar got me just right!

I'm leaving now and I will be busy for a few days so sorry if I won't be able to feedback every single chapter but I'll stay tuned for more and leave a review as soon as possible.

You made me incredibly happy!

Well, 'tis the weekend before Christmas, and this could be the last update before Wednesday. Happy holidays, everybody!

Connor hops onto a low, sturdy branch, and jumps up. He catches a thicker, higher branch with his hands, and pulls himself up with apparently little effort. He waits, eyeing Haytham expectantly.

"Well?"

Haytham tries to copy Connor's actions, but despite his strength he spends nearly five minutes struggling up onto the branch Connor is standing on. To his annoyance, Connor smirks.

"Well done," he says, once Haytham has managed to stand up. He takes hold of one of Haytham's shoulders, helping him to balance. "The hard part is over."

Haytham almost falls, despite Connor's helping hands.

"...On second thought, the hard part is just beginning." Connor stifles a chuckle, and Haytham gives him an indignant glare.

"Don't get cocky. I've never climbed a tree before."

"It would be easier if you were wearing less... solid shoes," Connor says. "The kind my people wear."

"Then next time I'll wear those boots of yours."

"You did not throw them away? What about my robes?"

"They're safe. In a small chest underneath our bed, if you must know."

Connor looks genuinely surprised at this revelation. In all honesty, just giving Connor his robes back would probably make the boy feel guilty about being away from the Brotherhood for so long. To let information like this slip 'accidentally' shows trust, will make Connor feel special, loved.

"I will keep that in mind. This way."

Connor walks to the tree trunk and slips around it to a branch on the other side. Haytham follows, clumsily, as Connor leaps to a different tree, and starts swinging on branches to launch himself through the air, into a V-shaped intersection in another tree. He climbs up a few metres, to allow Haytham space to land in the forked branches.

Haytham nearly falls out of the tree even as he lands, and Connor slides back down to help. He gently pushes Haytham so his back is pressed against one of the branches, and leans against the other one himself.

"We can take a minute to rest, if you like," he says. "Get your balance back."

"I can think of a couple of other things we can do here," Haytham smiles, wickedly. Connor takes the hint, and leans in close. He's a fast learner, that boy.

Before their lips touch, Connor takes hold of Haytham's cloak, and jumps out of the tree, into a leaf pile below, and Haytham shrieks in shock as he is pulled with him, though he will never ever admit making such a sound in future.

"What the blazes was that?!" Haytham demands, as soon as his brain processes what just happened. Connor answers only with a kiss, and Haytham can't really complain because this leaf pile is actually quite comfortable to lie on, and Connor is wonderfully warm.

...

"They are going to come looking for me soon," Connor says, that night. "The Brotherhood, I mean. Achilles probably ignored my letter."

They're lying in bed, tired and aching from tree-running, or whatever Connor calls it. A small fire in the hearth is the only source of light in the room, and Haytham is stroking his thumb along Connor's collarbone.

"He always was a stubborn old fool. What are you going to do?"

Connor is silent for a moment.

"I do not know. They are good people, but... I do not want to leave you."

Ah. The plan is working better than Haytham could ever have anticipated, then.

"Leaving with them doesn't mean you're leaving me," Haytham murmurs. He takes his Order ring off his hand, and pushes it onto Connor's left ring finger. The boy twists his head back, staring in mingled confusion and surprise.

"What are you doing?"

"It's a thing couples do. Don't your kind exchange rings?"

Connor shakes his head.

"During our wedding ceremonies, it's customary to give each other rings, to symbolise everlasting love. Or something like that."

Connor sits up.

"We cannot get married. Your kind are..."

"Yes, yes, I know. Didn't you say your people would've thought us holy?"

"I do not know the customs for marrying somebody who is not Native. And given the animosities between our people, I doubt I could find anybody to perform the ceremonies."

"Then we'll do it ourselves. What is marriage but a promise, anyway?" Haytham gets up, pads to where his jacket has been left, discarded, on an armchair. He rifles through his pockets until he finds what he needs- the ring Connor had given him before he'd left under the guise of business.

He holds it up triumphantly.

"It's too small for my fingers, but I can wear it on a chain beneath my clothes, or get it resized, perhaps."

He pads back over to the bed.

"I promise to love you for all eternity, to care for and keep you, through times of prosperity and poverty, sickness and health, till death do us part. Do you promise the same?"

Connor is silent for a moment, pink tinging his face, before he finds his voice.

"Yes."

Haytham chuckles.

"Traditionally, we say 'I do'."

"I do."

They kiss again, and Connor rolls so that he's straddling Haytham's legs.

"Let me show you my gratitude," he says, and there's something in his eyes Haytham can't quite place. It's not fear and it's not lust, and a part of him starts to worry.

Connor kisses a trail from his jaw, down his neck and stomach, over the curves of his muscle and navel, only stopping at the old, loose breeches he's wearing. It's only when he starts mouthing at the bulge there, fingers deftly untying the knots, that Haytham realises what he's up to.

Now this is most unexpected, and he wonders whether Connor is getting any enjoyment out of this or if he sees this as some sort of payment, a debt owed, or a duty perhaps.

Connor's mouth is hot and wet and he does the deed agonisingly slowly. His teeth scrape in all the right places and his tongue swirls maddeningly and Connor seems to delight in the obscene noises that escape Haytham's throat.

It is a long time before he comes and it is an even longer time before he finally falls asleep.

Oh please, someone fill this ;u;

This needs to be filled asap!

Sure :3

A part of me isn't surprised Charles kept the identity of Washington's 'toy' to himself. Does he even know Connor is Haytham's son at this point?

So Kanen'tó:kon is ready to step into Connor's former role it seems, ready to walk down the path of blood and vengeance. It's disturbing that he's willing to place his trust with Charles Lee ... very much like Connor had with Washington, and hope he realizes before it's too late what kind of monster Lee truly is.

I should feel horrible, but eagerly waiting for more Washcon...

Author notes: I was supposed to have this chapter up this morning, but alas, it
seems that the curse of being a computer coding major means that you will be
the family tech support for the rest of your life, and yes, figuring out how to
work Minecraft mods for my unthankful boob of a younger brother is just what
my plans for the future are! end.rant

Sorry about that. Here, have some fic. And thank you for all the comments <33
and for not hating me for taking so long to get to the porn.
I might put up a second chapter tonight if I can get that far.

--------------------

Appreciation

Chapter 1

”Ohh, I told him to get some rest, I really did...”

The Doctor's voice was hoarse and low, nearly a whisper as he gently wiped the wound with soaked bandages. Stephane clutched the pan of water in his hands so hard his knuckles turned white. Together they had managed to wrestle Connor out of his coat, and then the Doctor had carefully cut the undershirt off to avoid harming the young man any further.

It was an old wound, not fresh, and the thin cotton shirt had been firmly sucked into the liquid mess that was seeping out of Connor's mauled flesh. It had healed badly, festered under tightly wound bandages, and the weak scar tissue had finally ripped when weakened by the infection. The dark coppery skin around the wound was sickly red and purple, streaked with dried blood and fluids.

”I can't do anything to help him like this. I have to open the wound and clean it, draw out the pus and scrape out what I can.”

Doctor White had intense worry written all over his features as he reached for his medical equipment. He turned towards Stephane, his brow pinched with sadness behind his spectacles.

”Would you please prop him up a bit, support his head while I try and get laudanum into him? The pain is going to be absolutely excruciating as it is.”

–

Consciousness returned with a vengeance, lighting up his exhausted body like a gunbarrel loaded with black powder, and Stephane snapped awake from his restless sleep. For a moment he stared at the flickering shadows around him, incapable of registering the cast off from the two candles in the room. He shot up from his curled up position atop of a pile of quilts and pillows and scrambled for the edge of the bed next to him, wincing as he hauled himself up on his loudly complaining knees.

Connor was still dead to the world, sprawled out on his bed like a man with no breath left in him. But his bare chest was rising and indicating life, never minding how shallow and stuttering it looked. He had not moved from the position they had left him in after the operation had finally ended. The white, clean and carbolic soaked bandages were firmly wrapped around his abdomen, contrasting strongly against his dark skin. Blood had not yet stained through the bandages. Stephane finally allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding.

”I... Would it be too much asked, if I asked you to stay with him over the night?”

Stephane would likely have jumped off a mountain into a burning pile of ammunition if it meant he could have aided Connor in some way. Instead of voicing this to the Doctor, he had simply piled up some quilts and pillows on the bedroom floor and attempted to make himself comfortable. Sleep was out of the question, he had woken with a start at least a dozen times during the night, desperately clambering to his knees or feet to check on the man he was keeping watch over.

Once the sound of a small voice had been the reason for his awakening. It had not been a stranger talking downstairs as he first had thought, but instead it had been Connor, whimpering in his sleep. Words that Stephane did not understand. But he had understood the pained expression, and gently attempted to feed his mentor more of the laudanum. The Doctor had purposefully left a portion in a flask, prompting him to try and calm the patient down with it should he have regained consciousness or started to become restless.

Slowly Connor had quieted down, and the sound of his choppy breathing had once again been the only sound in the room.

”I will return first thing in the morning. Or, if he gets worse, please send for me. I will be there.”

Stephane cast a glance towards the window. The sun had not started to rise, it was still very early. No birds were crowing, and no dogs barking outside. A quiet moment before sunrise. Connor was out cold and fairing as well as he could in the situation. Stephane decided that he would stop creeping on his sleeping mentor like a crazy man grasping onto invisible threads of hope, and headed for the little study just across the hall.

There he could use the little table and chair to sit down and write, and at the same time he could listen for any changes.

–

Stephane woke with a start once more. The bottle of ink that he swiped at had no chance of surviving the crash. His vision was bleary, his mouth was dry and his head felt incredibly heavy. After further inspection he also noticed his stomach was empty like the purse of a beggar, and the starting knocking on his temples was definitely making way for the greatest headache of all times. Falling asleep infront of a table was likely the most uncomfortable position to sleep in. Stephane felt his neck and his back agreeing quiet vehemently to that thought, and he grimaced as he attempted to sit up properly.

The knocking however become louder, and the cook realized that someone was at the door and not attacking his poor skull. Indeed there were now small rays of sunlight streaming in through the windows. He could not have been asleep for long, but a disastrous feeling of nausea was immediately summoned once the worry settled in again, digging its cold claws into his skin.

Stumbling out of the chair, Stephane quickly snuck into the bedroom across the hall just to make sure that everything was as it had been earlier. Connor was still unconscious, he was breathing - and it may have been just Stephane's desperate imagination or the fact that he was sadly starting to get used to the pained sounds – but it did seem that the broad chest was now rising and sinking easier than during the night.

Doctor White was at the door, and it appeared the man had slept just as much as Stephane; meaning nearly not at all. He was wearing mostly the same clothes as well, though the shirt was clean and not stained with blood so he must have had time to change at least. But his face was tense with exhaustion, and deep black furrows had appeared under his now red-tinted eyes.

”How is he?” Doctor White's voice was dry and raspy, laced with exhaustion and strain.

”Alive. Sleeping.”

”Ah, good.”
Then the doctor's shoulders slumped with relief. Stephane hoped that this meant that the worst had passed. They climbed the stairs together in silence. The doctor had brought his bag with him, though this time it was even larger. It was all worrying, and the niggling nausea did not stop spreading.

”I am going to simply cut the bandages and clean out the wound. When was the last time you gave him some of the laudanum?”

”At some point during the night. I... Cannot remember exactly when, this is all very confusing.” Stephane shook his head sadly. Upsetting would have been the right word. Instead of looking disappointed, the doctor patted him on the shoulder. The human contact was welcome, reminding Stephane of reality.

”It is fine. You have done well. Try and rest a little, I will call for you if I need help” he said simply, before heading for the bedroom. Stephane willed himself to not follow the doctor and instead headed back into the study to finish his work. There were five letters to close and bring to the nearest and fastest courier.

--------------------

Maybe they’re having hatesex before a battle ? Maybe Washington has no idea Charles hates him and nurses an unrequited crush ? Maybe they used to be together and had a nasty breakup ? Give me anything.

/flail Ohh! Writer!Anon how I love you sooo! This was adorable. Despite the hell Connor has been through, and probably still has a bit left, it's still so cute.
Driveby!Anon is patiently awaiting the next chapter and wishes your talented awesomeness a happy holiday too!

OP here, and I wish I could be coherent but literally all I can think of is

AAAAAAA MY PROMPT GOT FILLED AND IT'S SO WONDERFUL AND I LOVE YOU AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

It starts as an argument, as many things between them do. The jagged edge of his emotions having scarred over a time ago there is no real violence in it. Indeed, whatever this is between them has long since evolved into something else, something with heat not unlike a battle and yet far more pleasurable than Malik would ever care to admit out loud.

Of course, there is no need to say such things as it is more than apparent. His only consolation is the fact that Altair is neither immune nor unwilling himself. No, in fact Altair engages in this as he does anything, and Malik recognizes the reckless desire in Altair's eyes easily enough as they wrestle each other down to the cushions. Years of working at a desk have lent bulk to Malik's shape that he is pleased to find fairly equal to Altair's honed muscle and that desire only flares more brightly with challenge when Malik manages to get Altair down onto his stomach and uses his weight and height to keep Altair's slightly leaner body beneath him.

Unfortunately, that accomplished, they seem to be at something of an impasse.

"Now what, brother?" Altair pants, grinning an edged smile even with his face partially pressed by Malik's hand into the cushion beneath him, and that is certainly the question. If Malik moves – and he must if he wishes this little game between them to go any further – Altair will worm his way out from underneath him and then Malik will have a fight on his hands again. If that happens, he has no illusions how quickly he will lose. But if he does not move, they are like to lie here like this until the sun rises. Malik is not entirely convinced this would be of any benefit to either of them.

"Now what indeed," he admits, and beneath him Altair rumbles a laugh. Altair does not pretend the loss of Malik's arm is any kind of handicap; since their unspoken truce he has treated Malik like an equal, like Malik is capable of doing with one hand what takes most men two and there is no quarter given in these little 'fights' of theirs.

"All you need do is let me up," he says in what Malik supposes would be a reasonable tone, if he wasn't smiling wolfishly while saying so. "I promise I will be gentle with you."

Malik hmphs. "You are generosity itself," he agrees dryly, and presses his hand harder down on the back of Altair's neck. Altair growls, a surprisingly pleasant sound in this position, and Malik casts about for ideas and suddenly strikes upon one. "A shame you cannot say the same for me."

He shifts his weight until his knees are pinning Altair's arms by his sides and his weight is bearing down on Altair's shoulders and then reaches for his sash. It slithers free, and it will do the job, he thinks. He puts one end in his mouth and then shifts back and over far enough to reach for one of Altair's wrists, to bring it up behind his back. Altair cranes his head around, his mouth open perhaps to issue his challenge anew, and then sees the sash Malik can feel himself grinning around.

"What are you..." he begins, and Malik loops the sash swiftly around Altair's wrist. It is a fight to get the other arm up then. Altair bucks beneath him, realizing Malik's intentions but Malik merely uses his weight and his knees to hold him down while he binds the other wrist and ties the two together tight, making the knots with deft fingers and his teeth. It is challenging, even with Malik so long used to his handicap, and they are both panting when Malik is done and sits back to study his handiwork.

"Hmm, that is better, I think," he murmurs, sitting on the backs of Altair's thighs and watching his fists clench helplessly in the middle of his back.

"Malik," he says haltingly. "I do not think..."

Malik leans down again and very deliberately lets Altair feel his hardness against the cleft of his rear.

"But a moment ago you issued a challenge, did you not?" he reminds, lowly and casually. "Surely you did not set out to fight a battle you knew you could not lose?" Such could probably be said of any other assassin, for assassins are trained to win however they may and run if they may not, but Altair, who fights regardless of the probable outcome, is prone to fighting battles one would argue he cannot win. That fact in this context makes Malik grin even wider.

"I..." Altair breathes. "No. Of course not."

"Then do not object," Malik concludes, without much trying to sound as if he is not enjoying himself immensely and perhaps if Altair truly did mind he wouldn't be, but Altair does not seem angry or afraid; he seems... Actually, Malik is not entirely sure, but it warrants closer investigation. Experimentally he lays his hand upon the toned curve of Altair's rear, feels the muscle clench briefly in response. He spreads his hand and presses his fingers gently into the cleft, pulling the cheeks apart under Altair's robes, and is a little surprised, certainly gratified, to feel Altair shudder underneath him.

"I..." Altair says again, and then doesn't say anything else, and this is strange. It is strange that Altair should be reacting like this, but stranger still that his reactions should make Malik's heart thud hard in his chest. Usually their couplings are quick and heated, like their arguments, and as quickly over. Usually, Altair would have had Malik's robes up and his breeches down by now and Malik would be cursing him out and demanding more all at once. This however is not a position Malik has had the opportunity to enjoy before, and not only does Altair not object, it seems he...

"Hmmm," Malik intones thoughtfully, and rubs his fingertips against the entrance to Altair's body. Altair shudders again and takes a rough, gasping breath and quite abruptly, Malik's pulse is racing.

"Malik," Altair returns, a warning that he does not himself sound entirely convinced of, and it is as good as an affirmation for Malik, enough at least to know he should not give Altair a moment to recover his footing.

"We have not done it this way before," Malik comments, moving his hand to roam, to squeeze and cup and massage Altair's rear, the backs of his thighs, the dipping, graceful curve of his back. "That is not to say I do not want to, by any means. In fact, I believe I would enjoy it immensely. But I am curious; why have you not just asked? Surely you were not afraid?"

"I-" Altair says a third time, and then makes a choked sound when Malik leans down and snakes his hand underneath him to find his member, hard and eager, between his legs. "Merciful God," he breathes, and then becomes belligerent again. "No. It just didn't occur to me that..."

He trails off, but he does not need to finish for Malik to understand. He knows this man in ways that Altair does not even know himself, and he knows how he would have ended that sentence. It just never occurred to him that it might be a pleasure he would enjoy.

"I should be offended, on some level," Malik murmurs against Altair's ear, licking and then gently biting, and since he wants to rut himself against the body beneath him and there is little stopping him, he does. And oh. Oh. Perhaps there is some truth to what Altair is saying, because the trembling of Altair's body captured beneath Malik's, the way he turns his face into the cushions and pants out his breath as if he is ashamed of his body's responses, is more arousing than Malik would have ever thought, had he actually thought about it at all. "Truly. But I find it impossible, currently."

"Maybe-" Altair gasps. "Maybe later."

Malik bites him again for that, this time on the side of his neck just under his ear.

"Fuck," Altair says roughly, and "Yes," Malik replies. "That is the idea."

"Then in the name of all that's holy, get on with it," Altair snaps, regaining a little of his fire. "You will hold me thus only for so long."

"Duly noted," Malik returns dryly. "Clearly I shall have to leave the restraints then."

Altair cranes his head around a little to give Malik a leering smile. "Don't trust me?"

"Not in the slightest," Malik says unapologetically, and drags his hand out from beneath Altair to reach for the stiletto he keeps tucked into his boot. Altair's expression falters when he sees the blade.

"What are you going to do with that?"

"Only this," Malik remarks coolly, and slides the blade up underneath Altair's sleeve. The sound of tearing fabric is quite satisfying, as is the way Altair is gaping at him.

"Malik!"

"Oh, hush," Malik chides. "You've dealt with worse on a quiet day. And since I am apparently to make the most of this while I can, I believe I would like you as naked as a babe."

"There's no need to-" Altair objects hotly. "That's my only- Malik!"

"I will get you a new one," Malik assures, trying oh so very hard not to laugh as he drags the dagger up Altair's sleeve to the neckline, before moving to do the same to the other sleeve. He shifts forward a little, forcing a soft grunt out of Altair at the redistribution of his body weight as he turns the blade a third time and runs it down the centre of Altair's back. There's no need for him to tell Altair not to struggle; the space to manoeuver is limited underneath Altair's bound arms and a hasty movement could mean significant injury. Malik cuts as far down as he safely may, then removes the dagger, placing it far enough away to still be within reach, before reach up underneath Altair's bound arms, curling his fingers around the tear and pulling. The fabric gives with another pleasing sound and then Altair's fine, lean back is bare from the waist up.

"God damn you," Altair is cursing, but since he does not sound like he would really cut out Malik's heart if he could, Malik ignores him in favor of kneeling up a little and rolling Altair over. The overshirt comes away from his torso easily, and Malik tosses it aside as no more than rags now. Then, he merely looks his fill. He has never really had the opportunity before.

Altair is a well formed man, lithe where Malik is solid, his frame and his muscles putting Malik in mind of a powerful hunting animal, sleek and fast and deadly, grace concealing lethal strength. His bare skin is marked with scars, significant in that they are deep, evidence of serious injury, and few. There have not been many men who have had opportunity to mark him, who have not had the skill or perhaps the courage. Malik traces a few with a light touch, across Altair's pectorals until his fingers bump across a nipple, pausing to roll and pinch at the flesh until it peaks, and it is a somewhat heady realization that although there is not a breath in Altair's body that would – could –speak of surrender, he speaks of it now, in the way he lies still beneath Malik's touch, beneath his body, in the way he watches Malik's face warily, guardedly, and yet parts his lips in anticipation when Malik's fingertips stray towards the waistband of his breeches.

"You have two choices at this point," he decides, smiling at the heated, almost annoyed look Altair is giving him. "Cooperation, or the knife." He punctuates his offer by gripping the waist of the garment and tugging.

Altair glares, but there's no true animosity in it. "Well, I can hardly move under your great weight," he points out acerbically, punctuating his point with a short thrust of his hips against Malik's weight. He is hard beneath Malik's rear, but if he thinks that is how it is going to be tonight, he will need to think again.

"So, the knife then?" Malik teases, and Altair merely glares at him.

"Off, you oaf!" he snaps. "Unless it is you who is afraid?"

"Hardly," Malik reassures, and rolls off Altair and reaches for the fastening of his breeches. There are at least a dozen ways that Altair might overpower him at this moment but somehow Malik knows that for all Altair's bluster he is far from considering them. Malik does not mind ensuring that continues to be the case at this point, and as soon as Altair's breeches have been dragged down to his thighs, Malik pauses to take his exposed member in his hand and without further discussion, lean over and suck the head of it into his mouth.

Altair goes immediately still and his member jumps in the clench of Malik's fingers. Malik however does not think that a sufficiently invested response, and so sucks a little harder, sliding the foreskin back and running the tip of his tongue around the edge of the hood, digging gently into the slit for the moisture beading there, feeling Altair tensing and shuddering out that tension in turns until he tries to shove more of himself into Malik's mouth with an involuntary thrust of his hips.

"Ah, God!" he grates, and no longer does he sound even remotely displeased with the proceedings. "Malik."

Malik slides off, ignoring Altair's groan of protest and proceeds to divest Altair of the rest of his clothing, then he climbs to his feet and divests himself of his own, Altair watching as he strips off each layer. His grey eyes fixed upon Malik are dark like storm clouds on a calm sea, his thighs spread, his sex stiff and red against his belly, smearing glistening trails of saliva and fluid as he shifts, and perhaps it is one of the more difficult things Malik has done recently when he leaves the sight that Altair presents in order to fetch the grease that they have set aside for this particular use.

He does not need to go far, of course, and Altair is as he left him when he returns and lowers himself to kneel between his knees, despite the knife that was left in reasonably easy reach.

"Like this, until I am satisfied," Malik asks, "or on your knees?"

Altair watches him a moment longer, his gaze flickering down to Malik's groin and the dimensions of his own interest in the answer.

"Untie me," he urges, his voice low, careful as he licks his lips before raising his gaze back to Malik's.

Malik watches him and says, "That was not on offer."

Altair's mouth makes a subtle movement, perhaps displeasure but his expression is too complicated, too guarded for Malik to determine with any accuracy.

"Then however you please," he says, but carefully, and Malik thinks that perhaps it is not however he likes, but more a matter of him guessing what it is that Altair will like.

"Then get over," he tells him and thinks by the way Altair's lips part slightly and his gaze goes hot and liquid that he has guessed aright. "I will not untie you."

Altair's expression becomes set, knowing that on his knees with his hands tied he will have neither leverage nor freedom, but he was never one to let any kind of handicap cow him. With an awkward twist of his body, he struggles over, Malik merely watching, enjoying the play of his muscles and the small huffs of breath he makes at the effort. But when he finally achieves his knees, legs spread to steady himself and his head and one shoulder braced against the cushions for support as he presents himself to Malik he is not the only one a little short of breath.

"Comfortable?" Malik asks idly, although perhaps he does not sound nearly as casual as he would like as he runs his hand up the back of Altair's thigh, letting the slightly damp skin drag on his palm, feeling the light tickle of almost invisible hair upon Altair's body closer to his cleft.

"No," Altair grunts, but his body shivers briefly under Malik's touch. Malik smiles.

"You may scream into the pillows, if you feel the need," he says magnanimously, and then before Altair can form a no doubt scathing reply to that, he grips one side of Altair's rear, presses his thumb in and parts him and then leans down and licks.

The contact is like lightning striking Altair – he jerks and swears harshly and Malik must grip him harder and use his weight to press Altair's shoulder further into the cushions to stop him from moving. He can feel him trembling under him, can hear him panting out quick, ragged breaths as he uses his tongue liberally in a slick, penetrating rhythm. Altair tastes, well, not pleasant, and no doubt Malik will need to keep his medicines close by him over the next day or so with purging drugs at the ready, but it will be a small price to pay for having this – proud, arrogant, masterful Altair ibn-La'Ahad reduced to a quivering, gasping wreck beneath him, shocked into submission by this forbidden and terrifyingly pleasurable act.

And Malik knows what pleasure it is. In his darkest days after everything he had ever known had been taken from him and he had been banished to Jerusalem to take over a foundering Bureau, he had known the kind of despair that dragged men down. He had followed it willingly, then, perhaps thinking to immolate himself in the kind of pastimes that no assassin of his standing would ever contemplate. Drinking, whoring, gambling, living only on the perhaps too-generous sufferance of the old rafiq under whom he was training. He could have been disposed of in many ways, then, too broken a tool to be of any use, but perhaps the old rafiq had seen something else in him, and eventually, painfully, sometimes pleasurably, he had learned. He had learned what it is to break rules, what power lies in choosing which rules to break, and now he teaches this to Altair, shows him with presses of his tongue and the movements of his mouth and the gust of his breath, what it is to surrender.

And surrender Altair does, not only with his body, but before long with his voice too. Malik, Malik, Malik, he is chanting under his breath, and God in Heaven, and Malik, please. It is almost as much as Malik desires from him; almost.

"Please, what?" Malik demands, pausing for a moment and reaching with his thumb to rub against the wet hole. "What is it you desire, Altair? You only need voice it, and I will give it to you."

"Bastard," Altair gasps, perhaps at the sly tone in his voice; or perhaps because he has stopped. "You know what I want."

Malik raises and eyebrow and pushes with his thumb. It slides in oh so easily, and Altair gives a shudder under his hand.

"Pretend for a moment that I do not," Malik suggests mildly, "and tell me. Or you will get nothing further and I will leave you here like this while I return to my books. There are trading accounts to be ledgered that I am neglecting while dallying here with you."

"You would not," Altair breathes, his body straining to remain still as if such obedience will pacify Malik.

"Perhaps," Malik murmurs. "Then again, perhaps not." With a wicked grin, he leans in again and applies his tongue to where his thumb slides into Altair's body, inspiring with only a couple of firm thrusts a fresh round of blistering, gasping curses while Altair's body shifts and arches and moves and clenches, perhaps against his will, in needy reaction.

"Malik!" Altair grates, shuddering all over and very rarely does Malik encounter anything that makes him truly regret the loss of his other arm, for he would very much right now like to see what his tongue and fingers inside Altair while his other hand strokes his thick cock would do to Altair's normally impressive self-control.

"Malik!" Altair repeats, his knees spread and his hips rolling back towards Malik enough to near knock him off balance and Malik can near hear his will power snap.

"Son of a whore!" he moans. "Fine! I want you to put you cock in me. Now. Hard. Malik. Please, God damn you. Is that what you- What you desired to hear?"

Altair's voice is as ragged, as desperate, as Malik has ever heard it, and there is no room in Malik to tease further, to mock or gloat, only an answering desperation, sudden and unmanning. He removes his tongue, his thumb, reaches for the grease and pops the top with a deft flick of the stopper, scoops out some and coats his aching member, breathing unevenly through the blissful sensation of having a chance to touch himself, before moving to line himself up, to press just his cockhead against Altair, to pause and stare down upon him, at the straining lines of want described across Altair's body stretching him exposed and vulnerable and willing Malik to take him.

"If you- handle me like I will- break," Altair growls, a low and fervent sound, "I swear I will-"

Malik does not let him finish the threat, whatever it may be, but instead grips Altair's hip and pushes. Altair's voice breaks into a groan of pained satisfaction that rattles Malik's teeth as he thrusts in, and this is as good – no, better – than he remembers it being with the few others with whom he has shared a bed. Not a single one of them were as prideful, as deadly, as dangerously beautiful, as Altair, and Malik has no real illusions. Altair does not treat him as if he is a cripple, but had he not wished to be here – groaning on each of Malik's hard, sharp thrusts, unable to get enough leverage to push back as he likes, panting out Malik's name and swearing and pleading until Malik is near mad with arousal – then he would not have been.

Altair wants this, wants to be possessed in this way, and that is perhaps more arousing than the way his voice shakes and breaks as he starts to lose words entirely. Malik is likely not going to last much longer. He can feel his release burning in his thighs and groin, drawing his balls up tight. He groans, part frustrated and part disbelieving at how impossibly good it feels to be plunging himself into Altair's shockingly willing body, and shifts his grip to Altair's shoulder, muscle straining as he drives deeper, harder still, lifting Altair off the cushions and making of his spine a straight line to ram against. The action drives a shout from Altair's mouth, and Malik cannot hold himself back for he has never, never, heard Altair make a sound like that, glad and greedy and completely unrestrained, and it is he, Malik that is doing this thing; he, Malik, that Altair desires.

Malik barely hears Altair's harsh cursing as Malik's release comes upon him like a sandstorm, roaring in his ears as his heart seizes in his chest for a moment and all sensation focuses on the flesh buried in Altair's body, pleasure beyond his ability to contain it. It is only when he feels Altair buck against him, hears him snarl, that he comes back to himself, blinking, a little dazed, to realize that Altair is still trembling, aroused, has not yet found completion with his hands tied behind his back and Malik only able to do one thing or the other. Malik does not let himself pause but drags himself away and forces Altair roughly onto his back so that he may lean down and suck his still hard cock into his mouth.

Altair cries out again, loud and guttural and lasts perhaps only a heartbeat past that. Then he is abruptly releasing, gasping and thrusting mindlessly into Malik's mouth as Malik swallows, and it seems a long time before he is done and collapsing back down against the cushions. Panting for breath, Malik allows himself to slump down beside him, thinking perhaps they are both getting much too old, for surely such activities should not leave them huffing like a couple of soft city merchants racing after a stray coin.

"Dear God," Altair breathes after a long moment of silence, and Malik snorts indelicately into the pillow under his face.

"I concur," he mumbles.

A pause, and then, "Is it... normally so with you?"

Malik turns his head a little to crack an eye open and peer at Altair, who is lying upon his back amidst the wreck of cushions, staring at the trellis above, and there is an oddly soft, vulnerable look in his face that Malik finds he likes a great deal.

"Honestly?"

Altair's mouth twists a little at that. "Ah," he says, and Malik frowns a little as he watches him.

"Please do not tell me that was your first time," he says abruptly, and Altair most conspicuously does not twitch at his words. Malik groans and thumps his head against the cushion. "Merciful God, it was."

"So?" Altair returns, sounding a little more like his stubborn, arrogant self in that one word. "Would you not have done as you did if you'd known? Treated me like a virgin on her wedding night perhaps? Brought me gifts and wine and whispered sweet things to me while you-"

"I would not have tied you up, at least!" Malik interjects hotly, pushing himself up so he can glare at Altair properly, angry all over again at Altair's willful disregard for his own safety and comfort, and perhaps too at himself for forgetting how very good at misdirection Altair can be.

"Yes, that part was surprising," Altair says coolly, almost smiling as he glances over at him. "But pleasant nonetheless."

Malik doesn't know whether to hit him or laugh.

"Why do you see fit to make everything so... so... contentious? Why must it always be a struggle? Could you not have just said?"

Altair looks at him properly then, serious in a way Malik rarely sees him.

"What? That I have been thinking about this? That I would like to be buggered by you? Held down? That I think we should have more than just a quick fuck over your desk but that I do not know how or what or-"

Malik is near speechless at these words. The idea that Altair should want something he does not know how to go about getting, the look on his face – almost bitter, self-reproachful – seems to have the effect of a fist gripping around Malik's heart so he cannot breathe for a moment.

"Yes, all of those things, you dolt," Malik finally finds the breath to tell him. "Would it be so bad? Do you think that I do not find you desirous to look upon? That you must make me angry in order to have my attention?"

Perhaps it is the lamplight, Malik thinks, for Altair cannot possibly be blushing as he says, "I never thought I could make you feel anything else."

And Malik still doesn't know whether to hit him.

"Idiot," he says, but fondly now. "Novice."

No; no amount of lamplight could have the effect of reddening Altair's cheeks as they are now. He is indeed actually blushing.

"Yes, yes," he says, trying to scowl and not quite managing it. "I still have much to learn, etcetera, etcetera." He pauses and then looks sideways at Malik, and Malik thinks perhaps his mouth is hanging open in surprise but he cannot seem to close it. "So teach me, oh Master."

The world has gone mad while he was not looking, Malik thinks. That is the only explanation.

"Now?" he asks, a little at a loss, and Altair bestows upon him a decidedly wicked smirk and glances very deliberately down Malik's body before raising his gaze to his eyes again.

"Now, later, tomorrow," he says meaningfully. "Whenever it pleases you, I am thinking."

It is a lucky thing Malik is already lying down or he might have toppled over on the spot.

"Only?" Altair adds. "If you could see your way to untying my hands? I can no longer feel my fingers."

Malik tries to look stern as he pushes himself up so that he may roll Altair once more over in order to get to the knot of his sash still tied firmly around Altair's wrists, and it is perhaps a good thing that Altair cannot see his face for he suspects he instead is smiling like an idiot, an inexplicably, stupidly happy idiot. And really, that will never do, since it has been long established that it is Altair who is the idiot and Malik could not bear it if there were two of them. One is more than enough.

Oh my GOD! This was AWESOMER THAN AN AWESOME THING!! Connor's FACE LOL!

OMG THIS JUST FBGWD:NCXVNWRFGFNV THIS IS AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU! I am smiling so hard right now, like my face hurts. gosh, I haven't laughed that hard in a long time XD would you mind if I shared this on my tumblr?

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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