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.

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

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

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✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!

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Whoa, this is their first conflict in a while. Haytham's getting almost a little unhinged in his need to keep Connor by his side, isn't he? I'm definitely looking forward to how that plays out in his future interactions with Charles! So just omg Writer!anon, please continue <3<3<3

So you know how if you get all the fragments you see the "ghost connor" or w/e it is?

Ok yeah, I would love some selfcest between reg. connor and DLC connor please please please! Selfcest is like a big kink for me and i like maybe have seen 1 or 2 in the ac fandom so some more wouldn't hurt right???

maybe DLC connor is mad reg. connor cause like his regular life seems SO MUCH BETTER than his life in the DLC ok like dang. Maybe he's like "You don't understand how much better you have it in that life." you know?? ugH rough hate sex idk?? i don't even care how or why just i want something primal and rough and hot and sex idk just someone indulge me here.

Thank /lays here and hopes/

I am so sorry and I feel horrible for asking this, but I just saw this: http://lyricalt.tumblr.com/post/44493219394

and this: http://lyricalt.tumblr.com/post/44495231688

And I kinda fell in love??? So dearest anons, I would love to see some scenario where apple shenanigans happen and some inner part of Malik comes out that he has hidden and controlled inside for a long time: a bloodthirsty Assassin. But alas, Malik only has one person in mind when it comes to cuts, bruises and blood and he would want nothing more and nothing less than to make small cuts all over Altaïr, bite him until he bleeds and choke him down. All the while stimulating them both or right out having sex.

Mind you, I don't want noncon. I would prefer for it to be completely consensual and Altaïr willing to let Malik work on him, or dubcon/coersion at best. Just please no noncon. I know this is a hard scenario to work with anything but noncon, but it could be a good exercise? Maybe Altaïr didn't know how much he enjoyed pain until he realized it was with Malik. Or maybe the same Apple shenanigans make Altaïr's guilty feelings over Kadar's death and Malik's arm come pouring out and he completely accepts and submits to whatever Malik does with him, idk.

Bonus:

+50 - Knifeplay.
+100 - Malik smearing the blood from Altaïr's cuts all over Altaïr's chest or other body parts.Loving the view. Loving the scent of his blood. Just. Blood.
+500 - Altaïr secretly enjoys it all (whether he's terrified of this or completely into it is up to anon).
+1000 - No penetration, just lots of rubbing, sucking, manhandling and whatever else comes to mind that doesn't involve anal.
+5000000000 and my firstborn - Post-Apple-incident!Malik feels forever guilty and gross about himself. Cue lots of kissing all other Altaïr's scars. Fluffy ending expected, but not necessary.

holy shit I feel so bad for asking this OTL I'm sorry, pleasedon'tjusdgeme.

Connor getting his heat early...was Charles feeding him some special 'teas' after all? Did his body just adapt to the situation?

Eh... a little from column A, a little from column B. To be honest, I just felt like take a break from tormenting George to tormenting Connor ~~with porn~~. Also, I think you mentioned in your story how Charles had impregnated Connor early, so it would be sometime during the honeymoon.

I don't think Connor minds being an Omega, think it's the whole heat business that screws up his Assassin missions. Can't imagine what it must have been like hunting Templars or fighting battles while suffering through heat. Also wondering if he's had to deal with the issue on his own considering that he had to leave home at a young age to train with Achilles, whose only advice was to probably keep track of his heat cycle or stay hidden and indoors until the heat wears off. Good advice, unless of course you have an irregular heat cycle - like Connor.

BTW How is Haytham Lee's story coming along?

Small fill is small, but hopefully OP will enjoy it. :)

-------

It's a game Altair never thought he'd be involved in like he is. Crouched between too-close buidings, hidden in shadows and praying that Malik won't find him. His body is shaking, both from the blood loss and the adrenaline, but also from the shock of the desire he can feel crashing down on him. He can see his blood, see the numerous small cuts Malik has made on his arms and hands, and it only serves to turn him on more.

He knows he can't stay here much longer; not now that Malik is showing the side of him that he himself knows all too well - a mentality that goes past hot temper and straight into frosty waters, cold understanding and lucid thinking. The mentality of a high-class predator with an ability to rationalize and deduce and still stay sane. Most of the time.

Right now Malik is on the black side of the spectrum, the side that comes from revenge and a need to completely dominate his opponent. Which is why he's playing this game with Altair, catching him and slicing him up, murmuring dark threats and veiled promises while using the adrenaline rush and dizziness against the other assassin, gaining his interest through various... methods. Methods that require they be pressed close, Malik sometimes with his thigh between Altair's legs, rubbing and gently running his knife along the bulge, sucking at the pulse at the man's neck right before he rips his mouth away and lets the knife fly. Then, as quickly as he snared him, Malik lets him go and watches as he runs, desperate to hide himself again.

It's a sick game, but god help him if some part of Altair doesn't crave more of it. He'd once told Malik that he didn't think he would mind if it were Malik killing him, and he'd meant it. He had just never realized how much until now.

As if his thoughts are a signal, Altair hears a familiar set of footsteps in the distance, and the tell-tale whisper of steel against the side of the buildings. As fast and quietly as he can, Altair climbs the wall and flees, praying he has at least a few seconds to gain some distance between them before Malik sees him.

No dice. What seems like a single heartbeat between one footstep and the next he hears the sound of quick running, and suddenly there's heat against his back and a knife kissing his throat.

"Hello again Altair," Malik purrs in his ear, dragging him out of the public eye and into a darkened corner, roughly shoving him up against the wall. The demented grin and the hungry, frosted eyes show just how far gone Malik really is. "Fancy meeting you here."

Altair doesn't speak, jutting his chin out in silent defiance. Malik tuts at him, waving the knife he holds like a waggling finger, right before it plunges into his arm, just deep enough to scar. Altair grits his teeth as his head thumps against the wall; seconds later he gasps as a fist embeds itself into his stomach. Then the blows are falling one after the next, the knife still sticking in his arm as Malik continues to beat on him, snarling at his quiet acceptance of the events.

The Apple started this hell, but Altair will be the one to finish it. Besides, Malik will feel guilty enough about what he's done when he comes around. All Altair has to do is be patient.

Omg, bless you anon! I certainly wasn't expecting a fill this soon!!!

And I loved every moment of it! It's short but very well written and satiated my desire to see crazy!Malik for now. Would love to read more! ;^;

SECONDING THE CONNOR SELFCEST. Hatesex would be amazing.

I don't think I've actually seen any yet. Please kind writer anons, please remedy this. ;_;

It might be a few days until I get to it, but would an art fill be acceptable? I have been wanting to draw some Hickey/Johnson for awhile now, and this seems as good an excuse as any ^_^

I've seen a few "pet" prompts, but I don't think I've seen pet fic that deal with the fact that our favorite assassins are usually likened to birds of prey.

Here are some ideas:

AC:
Is Altair literally treated like a bird of prey by his Master (your choice!), complete with hood and jesses (and bell?) Is Malik the first to "catch" and train him, or is he a "rescue" from an abusive master (lskadjf;ks I would love y'all forever if you include that!)

AC2/ACB:
Leonardo sets birds free, right? Well, he just purchased a rather stubborn one that refuses to leave (guess who. :D) So he decides that this one needs proper training if he's going to keep him.

Alternatively - Machiavelli, irritated with Ezio's failures, decides that the assassin needs proper "training." Ezio at first resists, but begins to find himself enjoying the training. (Maybe Volpe finds out and dismisses Ezio's assurances that Machiavelli isn't a traitor b/c of it?)

AC3:
Connor...could go a variety of ways. I haven't played enough of the game to make a full prompt, but anything goes! (And I don't really mind spoilers! Bring the fic on!)

Modern:
Desmond has been having problems, with all the stress of the end of the world/bleeding effect. Shaun, who practiced falconry before he became an Assassin, decides to use his knowledge to help Desmond cope.

So I lied. This little one-shot comes first since I felt that there needs to be more of a linkage between Master of the House and Haytham Lee’s Story (which will be named His Mother’s Son). This one-shot is Connor’s POV.

Not sure about how this came out (methinks I'm much better at angst and less at introspective kind-of political porn), but meh.

A Loyal Wife

Connor had grown up with tales of balance in the natural world. Earth was comprised of three elements, and each element had three animals symbolize it. Just as those nine creatures embodied the natural world and balanced each other out, so too did they balance the Iroquois Confederacy.

The natural world, in its chaos and beauty, was also quite structured and, despite what the White settlers thought of them, so too were Connor’s people. They were, after all, people of the Flint, as part of the structure of this land as the animals that they claimed as their symbols: the bear, the wolf and the turtle.

There was balance to be had in the natural world.

And, Connor was beginning to understand, there was balance to be had in other matters as well.

“Thinking on your village once again, wife?”

Connor looked up at his husband from where he knelt between his legs, a fond hand lightly stroking his inner thigh.

His breath hitched, and he arched lightly as an oiled finger delicately breached his body. The pain was minute. He had long since become accustomed to much larger intrusions.

The foreplay was a different matter.

The finger thrust lazily into him, slow at first, building speed, and then retracting, as if hesitant to stay within him for too long. It threatened to rub that spot inside him, teasing at pleasure, but then retreating before it could make good on its promise.

A mouth placed tiny kisses against his belly and made its way up his chest, stopping to suck at his ripe nipples. The tongue lapped eagerly at the milk that it drew forth, sucking and nibbling on him until he thought that he would die from the sensation.

He keened as a second finger joined the first, dipping, thrusting, rubbing.

Oh, his husband did like to tease.

“You try so hard to make me forget how to, oh, think, husband,” he gasped, heaving as one finger lightly brushed that ache within him.

He felt Charles smile from where the man licking at the milk from his sensitive nipples.

“It is clearly not enough if they are on your mind while I am between your thighs.”

The mouth sucked all the harder and the fingers, now three, worked at him, rubbing and teasing against that spot until Connor wept with frustration and he almost, almost begged his husband to finish it.

Almost.

He was not sure he could ever beg anything of the man who, even now, kept the keys to his cage.

Despite Charles’s professions of lust and want and blossoming affection, the man, now king of this land, refused to let either him or his infant son go.

But there are concessions that even a prisoner might win.

Slowly, surely, he pushed his husband away. The mouth left his nipple alone, the hand left his body.

His husband looked at him, frowning. The glint in his eyes suddenly became menacing as the grip on his thighs tightened.

“You cannot deny me,” his husband growled.

Connor looked back at him evenly. Months of assault and intimidation followed by further assault when he could do nothing but lay passively as his husband took him had taught not to fear his husband. There was nothing the man could do to him that was worse than what he had already had done.

To him anyways.

“You once made me a promise, in return for my presence by your side and the gift of your son,” Connor reminded him.

Give and take, that was the balance of a marriage, even if his husband needed reminding of it every so often.

Charles frowned again, but relaxed his bruising hold on Connor’s thigh.

“You once promised to fulfill the duties of a wife to me,” his husband countered, “in return for my protection over your little friends.”

Connor smiled at this, eyes meeting his husband challengingly.

“I have yet to see that promise come to fruit,” he countered, eyes briefly shifting to the armband of his village’s beads that his husband had finally returned to him.

He looked back just in time to catch Charles’s wince as his husband looked away in shame.

The turtle may not be as powerful or strong as the bear or the wolf, but it had its own advantages.

“Connor,” his husband began, hesitantly. “My hands are tied in this. I’m sorry about it, but we owe those soldiers their wages for the war. They sacrificed much for our sake—“

Your sake, Connor wanted to say. For the sake of all the White men on these shores who wanted free of the Crown, but not of all the others.

“—and we owe them for that sacrifice.”

His husband looked away again, torn in inner turmoil.

Despite what the man had done to him, Connor gave him this: his husband always tried to keep his word, and he was somewhat honorable, in his own way.

“And what does my father think of the proposed solution?”

Charles snorted.

“Master Kenway is the only voice in Congress against. His sympathies for the sa...for the people of the Flint—“

Connor smiled and laid a gentle on his husband’s cheek.

Turtles fought in different ways than either wolves or bears.

“—is well known, and he’s against the whole affair.”

A large hand covered his own from where it lay against his husband’s cheek, and Connor found that the eyes focused on him once again.

“And you, husband, king. What do you think?”

He kept all judgment, all sentiment from his voice.

His husband rubbed at his hand sorrowfully even as he leaned in for a slow kiss.

“I am your husband, wife. I do not like your people, but I made you a promise.”

Another kiss. Light nipping at his lower lip.

“Then,” Connor murmured, even as he lay back. “Then what if I could find a way to repay those debts...without seizing my people’s land and selling it off?”

The nips at his lip stilled. His husband drew back and looked at him in measured calmness.

“Make me ambassador to my people,” Connor began under his stare. “Permit me to visit with my childhood friends and the people who raised me.”

“And?”

“And we will find a way to raise the money ourselves.”

His husband did not look convinced.

“How?”

“My people are great hunters and know much of this land that the White settlers still do not.”

Connor paused.

“There was a reason the French preferred to trade with us.”

Charles shook his head.

“I do not think you can hunt so many furs in such a short time—”

“—then negotiate for a longer repayment period. The people who fought in the war, they are not stupid. They know that you cannot raise enough money from just the sale of my people’s land to cover all that you owe them, and Hamilton’s scheme will only make matters worse, as the men who fought in this war will get cheated out of the majority of what is owed to them.”

He softened his voice.

“Be open with them, husband. They respect you, they trust you. They will accept a longer time frame once the conditions are made clear to them, especially if we begin soon and return a portion of what you owe.”

His husband looked consideringly at him.

“Return a measure in good faith, and use that to negotiate longer terms and simultaneously encourage trade and increased relations between your people and mine.”

Connor gasped as a mouth descended upon his. A tongue soon attacked his mouth, tasting every inch of him deliriously, and he panted as his body cried for air.

“Wife,” his husband gasped as they separated. “Connor. My former enemy and my greatest asset.”

Another rough, desperate kiss.

Connor felt a bit ill.

“I am very glad I decided to wed you, rather than kill you.”

A body descended upon his, and hands lifted his legs up onto broad shoulders.

His husband loomed over him, not threatening, but certainly not comforting either. He poised to thrust in him and...paused.

“For what it’s worth, wife, I am sorry that I can never give you what you truly want.”

And Connor arched as his husband entered him, breaching the muscles that guarded his entrance and striking that needy, hot, wanting place inside of him.

All animals had their own ways of fighting and surviving. Connor had never wanted to be anything but what he was.

He felt bile in his throat, and bit upon the back of his hand to stifle his cry as his husband thrust powerfully within him.

He would adapt and be the balance to his husband.

Yeah...the heats must be really annoying. The time of the month is bad enough for girls without the urge to have sex constantly on top of it.

Tormenting Connor with porn is always delish! :) He so...pretty...when he's being tormented with porn. :D

Haytham Lee's story is...well, there's now a one-shot filler in between. Haytham Lee's story will be his journal entries and...well, I thought Connor's story needed a little more of a transition. :)

Nngggh, so tempted to write something. But its so late, and I need to get to bed. >:/ Why do all the good prompts show up just when I'm getting ready for bed? Do you people plot in advance or something? Is there a meeting you go to? Well stop it, whatever you're doing. Wait until I'm halfway sane before you throw delicious prompts like this out.

Especially that Shaun/Des. FFFFF I want that one like burning. I will do something about this tomorrow, with the god of the kink meme as my witness.

I'm going to go make popcorn and get in mein comfy chair because this shit is hot and I need to follow it. Braddock you asshole, I hope Spado pisses in your shoes while you're sleeping. >:/ Charles, keep being awesome.

AGH yes please for this prompt-Spirit is one of my favourite movies :) and you are right, their personalities are very similar in a 'defiant, strong-willed, won't take crap from anyone' sense... yeah...

anyway, thirded?!

(oh, and full speed ahead for Kanen/Connor, if that's a choice)

haytham finally admitting that charles is no longer an ally is certainly a milestone here. it's also interesting how desperate haytham is to keep his son on his side--how much he needs him.

"He couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t risk losing his son; he couldn’t take it..."

granted, he has lost power and friends for taking in connor (so his desperation is understandable in that regard), but it seems as though this feeling also stems from a deeper, more personal reason.

whatever the case may be, you are brilliant as usual, and i look forward to more updates! ♥

/hugs new fill like its a life-sized totoro/ love love love this! Connor is so clever to negotiate such important matters during sex when he has his husband's undivided attention. Ohhh I do wish there were more, Connor is in such an interesting place now, wonder how much freedom he has now that his cage has expanded somewhat. Is he allowed to go outside on his own or with escorts? Write to the Homesteaders? Visit and have more conversations with Clipper?

Connor drags Haytham’s trousers off of his body as well, and Haytham thinks, vaguely, that if he tried, he could knock Connor off of him, could regain some semblance of control, but where Connor’s arm is pressed into his back it feels like he’s in fire in the best way possible. Connor’s sleeve is rough on his father’s bare skin and Haytham loves it, loves the way that Connor is pushing him, owning him. Connor’s still-clothed cock is barely an inch from Haytham’s ass, and the older man tries to rock backwards, to get some sort of contact, but Connor stops him with a hand on his hip, shoving his father against the brick wall.
Haytham hisses in pain and is forced to stay perfectly still, his cock pressed against the roughness of the bricks, knowing that if he moves it will be very unfortunate. “You- dammit, boy, you planned this, didn’t you?” Connor presses his lips to the skin behind Haytham’s ear and whispers, “Have I made you proud, Father?” Haytham is going to come unfortunately early if Connor keeps saying that, keeps calling him father in that filthy tone of voice, but he’s not going to give Connor the satisfaction of knowing just how desperate he is. “Connor. If you don’t get on with it, I am going to personally ensure that you are separated from your genitals in the least enjoyable manner possible.” That gets a growl from Connor, and Haytham would call the man a savage if he wasn’t busy being flipped so his back was to the wall and being kissed rather roughly. Haytham can feel Connor’s cock, now, as they end up rocking against each other, Hatham whining into his son’s mouth at the roughness of Connor’s trousers.
Connor leans back from the kiss, and Haytham will deny until his last breath the little whine he lets out at the loss of contact, as well as the way he leans forward to get more. “Keep your wit to yourself, old man, or I will not hesitate to gag you.” Haytham ponders this for a moment, but decides that two can play at this game- Connor’s started this odd sort of seduction, and he’d better see it through. Haytham leans his head back against the wall, tilting it back just slightly, enough that he can still clearly see Connor, but far enough that the pale lines of his neck are visible. “I would rather not have a gag. Still, perhaps you could find another way to keep me quiet? Or are you simply incapable of doing anything without brute force?”
It’s a challenge, like everything is with them. Haytham has very little control over anything in this situation, but he wants Connor to rise to the bait, to take everything Haytham has to give and more. Connor, predictably, snarls, angered by Haytham’s words. One of Connor’s hands knocks Haytham’s hat off of his head before tearing Haytham’s hair out of the ponytail it was in, while the other fumbles with the ties of his trousers and shoves them down. Haytham bites his lip in an attempt to keep from moaning, but really, he’s always had a thing for well-endowed men and Connor is- Connor is ridiculous. He’s huge, and from the smug look on his face, he’s fully aware of his situation. “Get on your knees,” Connor snarls.
Haytham complies immediately, surrendering control, but still planning how to get some of it back. If he wants to be able to surrender completely, he needs to be manipulative for just a while longer. He looks up at Connor with his head tilted, schooling his face into something coy, batting dark eyelashes over cloud-grey eyes. Connor growls again, grabbing Haytham’s head and dragging him forward, forcing the head of his cock against Haytham’s lips. Haytham blinks up at Connor, clearly feigning ignorance, but Connor is already provoked, and Haytham wants him mad; Haytham wants Connor to take everything he wants.
Face twisting in a combination of rage and lust, Connor tightens his grip on Haytham’s hair, and with the other hand, tugs roughly on Haytham’s jaw. Haytham raises his eyebrows, about to say something along the lines of Oh, so that’s what you wanted?, but Connor takes the opportunity to shove himself halfway into his father’s mouth, earning a startled, albeit muffled noise of surprise. The templar regains his composure quickly, though, and begins to slide slowly down Connor’s cock, never breaking eye contact with the younger man. Connor makes a low, rumbling noise as Haytham’s nose ends up pressed against his abdomen.
Haytham moves back even more slowly than he had moved before, and really, Connor doesn’t seem to realize that his father is teasing both of them with his movements, that Haytham wants nothing more than to end up utterly used. Connor hisses out a breath, frustration and lust getting all mixed up and confusing the young man. Haytham can tell that Connor is close to snapping, that all that rage and all that desire is about to break through the floodgates, and all Haytham has to do is give the assassin a little push. He slides all the way off, breathing gently on the tip of Connor’s cock, flicks his tongue across the slit- and then Connor growls like some sort of beast, tightens his grip in Haytham’s hair, and thrusts.
Connor’s thrusts are brutal and angry, and Haytham loves it. He breathes oh-so-carefully through his nose to keep from choking, but there’s no way in hell he can control the desperate moans that tear out of him. Connor is clearly aware of Haytham’s condition, and is hissing obscenities and insults between deep groans. “You know you’re- you’re just a little whore, aren’t you?” Haytham wonders, vaguely, who the hell taught Connor all of this. How to swear, to talk dirty, to use his cock for the best possible purpose.
Well, maybe not the best. Haytham pushes at Connor’s hips, trying to detach himself from his son’s cock long enough to speak. “Boy-” Haytham pauses, clears his throat, tries again. “As much as I have been enjoying this, there are really better places for you to put your cock than halfway down my throat.” Connor shifts almost imperceptibly, and Haytham has to hold back a smirk- the older man can talk dirty quite possibly better than Hickey had, but Haytham knows when and where to use such language for the best effect.
Connor tilts his head slightly, fingers carding through Haytham’s hair. “Hmm. I suppose you might be right. Get up.” Haytham stands, swearing under his breath as his knees complain at the shift. Connor grabs his father around the waist almost as soon as he stands, pushing him into the wall. Haytham braces himself on his arms, elbows pressed into the wall, head resting on his forearms. His cock aches, and when one of Connor’s hands trails teasingly up the inside of the older man’s thigh, he lets out a little whine at the attention.
One of Connor’s hands finds it’s way to Haytham’s mouth, fingers trailing gently over his father’s lips before pushing inside. Haytham puts up no resistance and sucks on the fingers obediently, in no small part due to fact that Connor’s other hand is trailing over his hip bones, pulling the templar’s hips back and grinding against his ass. Haytham moans quietly and rocks back in counterpoint against his son. Connor presses his lips to the back of Haytham’s neck, surprisingly gentle for a moment before he sinks his teeth into the skin, sucking hard to mark the older man.

Holy crap, I just got done playing the DLC and so much filthiness was already going through my mind before I even got to this thread. Would OP be happy with Haytham's POV?

A/N: prelude to marathon sex, in which there will finally be a time skip that will move this ~~angsty-smut-fest~~ forward a couple of days.

Despite the feverish heat, Connor shivered and held the sheets around himself in a death grip, as his eyes turned away from the reflection of Charles Lee so he could face the Templar himself. The Assassin resisted the urge to recoil and hide completely beneath the blankets like a frightened child. Aside from George that one time, he had never allowed anyone - especially an enemy - see him like this. His husband stopped at the foot of the bed, taking a moment to glance at the discarded clothes on the floor, before those fierce blue-gray eyes glared back at him.

"I will ask again." Charles' voice was harsh and guttural. "What are you doing?"

Connor opened his mouth to answer but the words refused to come out. After all, he really did not wish to admit he had been masturbating while thinking of Washington. It would only provoke Charles who would take his anger out on him through a beating or something much worse.

"I-I am unwell," he managed to choke out when the Alpha took a menacing step forward. "Did the maid not tell you?"

"A poor lie." A hand seized Connor's ankle and dragged the paralyzed Assassin down the bed. Any thoughts of kicking or lashing out were quickly banished out of fear, as nails dug harshly into his skin. "Do you think I will allow adultery to go unpunished?"

"W-What?" The Omega gave a startled gasp as the sheets were yanked out of his grip, exposing his naked body before his mate who loomed over him.

"You seem quite well to me," Charles hissed, eyes narrowing on the boy's erection.

If possible, Connor's face reddened further.

"I..."

"I saw it on her face as I see it on yours now. You were attempting to seduce her, weren't you?!"

...What?

"For what purpose, wife? Was it to usurp the devotion of my servants?!"

His fear quickly transformed into confusion as he stared at Charles' scowling face. It took him nearly a minute to realize that Charles was upset about infidelity rather than missing afternoon tea. He would have laughed in the man's face, if he wasn't absolutely mortified that anyone would suggest he would ever use his body in such a manner.

"I was not seducing anyone!" he shouted back in denial. "She only walked in on me while I was in heat!"

Why oh why did he need to yell that last part out loud? It seemed his husband's rapid change in mood swings was infectious. He really needed to find a way out of this mad house before he to lost his mind.

At least his outburst seemed to knock some sense back into Lee, whose eyebrows shot up to his hairline in surprise as he released his hold. Did the Templar forget that the only reason why he (reluctantly) agreed to this farce of a marriage, was for the sake of his loved ones? There was no way he would jeopardize their safety for anything.

"You are what...?"

Connor's glare intensified. Really, did he really have to repeat himself?

"I. Am. In. Heat," he enunciated each word slowly. Only then did the throbbing pain from his neglected arousal returned. Growling at his stunned mate, Connor snatched the sheets back to re-cover himself as he began to back away. "I cannot help it... just... just leave me alone for a few days."

The longer the better.

He almost felt relieved as Charles made a move to go, but all hope vanished when the Templar chuckled and his expression shifted from bewildered to gleeful amusement. The change in demeanor was so sudden, that it reminded the Assassin of their encounter at Bridewell Prison. When the Templar had remembered that Connor had been the child he assaulted in the forest all those years ago.

"Don't be absurd."

His husband gave him a superior smirk that caused him to actually miss the Alpha's anger that had completely vanished. Charles stepped around the bed to grab hold of his fleeing form, before tossing him over his shoulder.

"What are you doing? Put me down!" the Omega shouted as was carried out of the room and into the hallway.

Connor would have liked to struggle if he had not remembered that the only thing he was wearing were thin bed sheets. Running around naked was not going to help his situation at all. So he continued to yell at his mate who paid him no attention. Charles was too preoccupied with addressing both the head maid and man servant, that the married couple would be taking their meals in the master bedroom for the next few days.

The Omega blanched and to continued to shout and curse his husband, ignoring the looks of contempt that the servants had given him for such disrespect towards their master. What was wrong with these people? Could they not see or care what their master intended on doing to him against his will?

"You are not going anywhere. Settle down," The Alpha commanded firmly, though with an underlying tone of arousal. "I admit that I did not expect this to happen so soon, but it appears that fate is on my side."

The stubborn and angry Assassin finally ceased his rebellion as the doors to the master bedroom closed behind them.

It seemed fate always favored Charles Lee over him.

I second this. John is a Templar too remember.

OP is happy with whatever the write anon feels is appropriate for the fill! (and yes, the dlc had me side-eying Ubisoft the entire time - so much fanservice. So, so much glorious fanservice.)

:D

Thank you, anon! I'll be eagerly waiting! (And I apparently live in Narnia, according to friends. So anything I do on the interwebz always seems to be after every sane person has gone to bed. ^^;)

I didn't know I needed this until now. Sounds so deliciously hot. ;D

Today anon was listening to "Gaston" from beauty and the beast and couldn't help but think of this.

So! Anon would like a story about Ziio rejecting Haytham (publicly is preferred.) and Charles tries to cheer him up while he's moping at the green dragon inn.

I mean really can't anyone else see Haytham as Gaston, brash, self confident, kind of a (huge) ass, arrogant, and putting himself before others to do what he believes is right.

and at the same time there's Charles as Lefou, he's always by the side of the Haytham, cheering him on and boosting his ego. He also idolizes Haytham much the same as Lefou does Gaston.

(the song: http://youtu.be/PK3x2DOoJIc)

anyways, so that's it, here's hoping it gets filled

~B

Anon hopes that they got the fill done the way OP wants it done. I also hope I got the falconry terms and training done right OTL. I have an idea for Leo/Ezio I may also throw up here, if this one goes alright.

-------

The end of the world is hardly something to sneeze over. Shaun knows this all too well, so he can understand why William is snappish and snarly nowadays, pushing Desmond further and further into the Animus, urging him to go further into the memories of the Kenway family in a desperate bid to find a solution to fight off Juno's conquest. But at the same time, Shaun sees that getting upset over every little failure will not help things; it is why he turns his attitude from Desmond to William on days when the older man lets loose on his son, calling him a failure and a fool for believing lies that they had all clung to. It is why he makes tea with sleeping drugs for Desmond, and lets him eat the last yoghurt he has in the fridge, even though they can't get anymore and its his favorite. He lets him do all these things because unlike William, who claims to be working for the good of everyone, he can see the cracks in Desmond's soul, and it hurts him to think the man came back to life just for this.

When Desmond suffers under the Bleeding Effect, which is no longer simple snippets of everyday conversations but volatile outbursts that result in thrown objects and somebody's blood on the floor, Shaun finds himself reminded of his younger days - Desmond reminds him a lot of a hawk he used to train. It was a spiteful little creature, all temper and heat beneath its fuzzy body, eyes wide with paranoia and fear and distrust. Only one person could ever hold him without endangering his life, and that was an old man that died not long after Shaun arrived. The bird was put away because it became too dangerous to use anymore - and that was when Shaun had picked it up. He suffered the daily scratches of feeding it, holding it, cleaning it, hooding and jessing it and even flying it. The bird didn't ask for those things, but they were given all the same because Shaun saw so easily that the bird had been forgotten by everyone else, and it would have lived in its cage until it died if he hadn't done something.

He wants to help Desmond like he helped the bird before it died. He wants to heal the wounds caused by those around him, help him find some semblance of peace with his life, even if its only for an hour a day. Rebecca seems to understand what he wants - she's heard enough stories about his hawk to know how alike the two are, which is probably why she purchases the kip leather and the sewing kit, and starts standing up to William like Shaun is doing. She cuts the sessions shorter, helps him walk when his feet won't move, tries to keep him happy. She understands, Shaun thinks as he pulls the leather from the box in the back of the warehouse, and that is enough for now.

Desmond is all talons and razor-sharp temper when roused, but that temper can be quieted, muted beneath the dark comfort of the hood. One made just for Desmond, shaped perfectly to help him heal. Shaun is careful when he makes it, shaping it around Desmond's head when he's in the Animus and William is out of the room. It takes five days to make it, and an additional two days for Shaun to think of a safe way to introduce Desmond to it without encountering his temper. The man is walking on the edge of a knife every day now, lingering between what little sanity remains in him and the destruction caused by the Bleeding Effect. A single word can send him either way; Shaun doesn't intend to be the cause of his second death.

So he waits until Desmond is in his room, comfortable and relatively tired, before carefully approaching him, hood hidden behind his back. "Desmond?"

Tired eyes find his. "What do you want, Shaun." Its no longer a question. It stopped being so a while back, around the time William forced his son into the Animus after his death to relieve Edward's memories.

Shaun is careful to keep his distance, posture as non-threatening as possible. "I'm just checking up on you. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I know Rebecca got a thing of your favorite soda in there..." He trails off as Desmond shakes his head, closing his eyes and sighing.

"No thanks Shaun. I'm okay."

That's the opening Shaun's been looking so carefully for. He takes it. "Are you really so content being just 'okay'? Wouldn't you rather be 'better'?"

Desmond's eyes open again, gold instead of brown, and Shaun is reminded of his first encounter with his hawk, the hard, unflinching glare that was leveled at him, much like the look Desmond is giving him now. "What are you babbling about, Hastings?"

He's losing his edge. He needs to explain quickly, before Desmond thinks this is all a joke and kicks him out. "I had a partner like you once, you know. Stubborn, fiercely independent, refused to be helped even when he needed it. Even when..." He hesitates, sadness washing over him, "Even when he was locked away because of that independence."

He has Desmond's attention again, the chilly gold shifting to a warmer brown. "What happened to him?"

"He eventually died. Gunshot wound. But I... I knew him long enough to help him. Heal him a little bit, at least I like to think so. I gave him a little bit of freedom, of choice before he died." Now his throat is clenching, and he needs to figure out where to go from here, how to get the hood from behind him to over Desmond's head without causing a third world war. "He wasn't human, but he was braver than anyone there at the time."

Desmond doesn't seem terribly surprised by the admission. "What was he then, if not human?"

"Hawk. Peregrine, if you must know."

The other man blinks at him, then smiles lazily, a sound coming out that isn't quite a chuckle. "Hate to break this to you Shaun, but I'm not a hawk. Just because my ancestors are named after hawks doesn't make me one."

"I know," Shaun says, a brief tightness in his chest relieving itself. He's on the right path again. He just has to take this slowly. "But that doesn't mean the same methods won't work. You're both broken creatures, Desmond; no one will deny that. He was put away for being too vicious, and its only a matter of time before they do the same to you as well."

Desmond does laugh here, although it doesn't sound right in the slightest. "You mean they haven't already? Damn."

The historian winces. He walked into that one. "You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

Ah, and there are the talons coming out in challenge. Shaun sighs, recalling how much those talons hurt. "Please Desmond. Let me help you."

For a long time, Desmond doesn't say anything. He doesn't deny he needs help, or try to push Shaun away, or even say that Shaun's playing a joke on him. He just leans his head back against his bed and stares at the ceiling. Shaun remains in place, knowing that patience is the answer. He needs to stay here until Desmond answers, or he'll never be able to help. If that means keeping William out until they're both at an agreement, then he'll do that.

Finally, Desmond answers, although its not the one Shaun expects. "What did you do to help the hawk heal?"

Shaun answers without thinking. "I put a hood on him. A jess too."

"What, no bell?"

"No need. Besides, the sound irritated him."

"Mmm, good call."

"Thank you."

More silence. Shaun no longer hides the hood behind him, letting it down by his side. Desmond eyes it cautiously, as if its a snake instead of a couple of simple pieces of leather sewn together. When he sits up and gestures of Shaun to move closer, the historian does so. Maybe they can do this after all, he thinks.

But suddenly Desmond freezes up, eyes widening, mouth opening--

"Federico? Che ci fai qui?"

--and Shaun's insides freeze.

The Bleeding Effect. Not now. This can't be happening. Not now.

As carefully as he can, he replies, "Io non sono Federico."

Desmond/Ezio's eyes widen, panic appearing. He backs up, scrambling over the bed into a corner, fingers digging into the pillows. "Chi sei, allora? Che cosa hai fatto con Federico?" Panic is setting in rapidly now, the duo continuing to demand Shaun's identity as his eyes flash from gold to brown to green back to gold--

Shaun doesn't think. He lunges, hood snapping up and over Desmond's head. The two cry out, voices intermingling, fingers reaching up to disarm Shaun, but he's got a tight hold on the hood and refusing to let go, leaning all his weight onto the other body, forcing it downwards, pushing the hands away and keeping the hood in place. This has to work, he thinks fiercely, gritting his teeth as screams for blood assault his ears. It has to work, because if it doesn't it means Desmond will die a dog's death, a death he does not deserve, and it will be all Shaun's fault.

Once Desmond/Ezio's hands are trapped, Shaun begins to murmur and click and croon quietly, just like he did before, working on soothing the frayed nerves and calming the bout of rage before it can escalate any further. His words are not clear; he says whatever comes first, gently reaching his fingers under Desmond's chin to stroke his throat, just like he would a trained bird. The man stiffens but stops talking, muscles tightening as his head tips ever-so-slightly to the side, as if fighting to better hear the words. After a moment he relaxes, his arms going slack. Not wasting a chance, Shaun carefully takes the jess he has in his back pocket and ties one around each of Desmond's wrists, double knotting it to prevent him from getting it off. He keeps murmuring as he gets off the bed, carefully tugging on the jess to see if Desmond will comply.

To Shaun's happiness, he does, leaning forward a bit as if to follow Shaun. His head is still cocked, the rest of his tension draining away with every moment that passes. Before long he is completely limp, lying against the bed and murmuring back in a foreign language that eventually transforms into English as the last of the Bleeding fades away, leaving the room intact, and Shaun unharmed.

Desmond comes to his senses before long, shaking his head and then frowning when he realizes its covered. Carefully he reaches up and feels the hood, and then the jess on each wrist. "Shaun...?"

"Yes Desmond?"

"You aren't dead, are you?"

"No. And the room is the same as it was before. Ezio calmed down, and so have you."

"Oh. Then does that mean...?"

"Yes. I'd say we've found a cure for your Bleeding Effect."

-----

I might continue this in the next part; if I don't, then I'll write the Leo/Ezio one up. Hope you enjoyed it!

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 14 / ? ]

DLC Connor/Connor - selfcest

Altaïr/Malik - bloodplay; TW: Gore

Re: Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 16/?

Drabble Fill: Be Prepared 1/1

OP

Re: DLC Connor/Connor - selfcest

Art fill claim?

Falconry (Pet AU)

Continuing Fill 2 - A Loyal Wife

Re: Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 16/?

Re: Falconry (Pet AU)

Re: Fill: No Danger (Haytham/Charles Omegaverse 1/?)

Re: Connor the Spirit

Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 14 / ? ]

Re: Continuing Fill 2 - A Loyal Wife

Where Did You Learn That? (2/?)

Re: Spoilers for TToKW: Haytham Sex Slave, Connor Slave Fighter (noncon, drugging)

Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 17/?

Re: Templar OT4

Re: Spoilers for TToKW: Haytham Sex Slave, Connor Slave Fighter (noncon, drugging)

OP: Falconry (Pet AU)

Re: Connor, mud-wrestling

Gaston.

FILL: Blind Trust 1/2