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

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assassin's creed

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.

✩ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.

✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.

✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!

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Part 1
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Also, not very good at bouncing between ideas.

Yeah... I totally know what you mean /stares at the Honeymoon, Shattered, GSTQ, and First Word bunnies/ but they just keep spawning and my hands can't help themselves.

Oh wow. You just gave me a great thought. :D Thanks!

No problem, I'm anxious to know who the poor unfortunate soul gets a trip down memory lane /stares at Charles and crosses fingers for angsty noncon/

I know this is pretty old but would you mind if i filled this?

Chilling thoughts indeed...

This story is getting more and more exciting. And I think it's escaped the boundaries of simple kink - you're doing a wonderful job here, anon. I'm excited to see what Charles will accomplish and what bunny visited you concerning above anon's idea.

i'll fill this! i have a few other prompts on my plate right now but i'm basically on an achilles prompt spree right now and will definitely do this once i'm done with the others!

AW YISSSS CAN I PLEASE FILL THIS. I know this was posted in 2012 but I am soooo filling this is as soon as I fill a few other prompts. this is PERFECT.

This was posted quite some time ago but I will DEFINITELY be filling this as soon as I can. Is there anything else you'd like in the fill? This prompt is great.

I have about 20 other Achilles prompts I need to fill but this is DEFINITELY going on the list. I will be filling this glorious, beautiful prompt!!

OH my god! You are an evil genius!! YES!!!

HOLY SHIT THIS WAS HOT!!

Hey, just to let anybody tracking this thread know that due to several reasons I'll be updating this at AO3 now. If you need an invite, I'll be more than happy to give you one :)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/774823/chapters/1457026

Not altogether happy with this chapter, but found myself going here no matter what. Ah well. Next few should hopefully be more on target and less...all over the place.

In Pursuit of Happiness

Chapter 28 - Futility

Over the next couple of days, Charles attempted to speak to Those Who Came Before through the amulet his mentor entrusted him whenever he found himself alone. And he found himself alone for much of the time.

Connor was too busy running the ship to drop by during the daytime, and Master Kenway too busy collecting what information he could from that gizzard Faulkner and the rest of the crew to spend much time with him. Apparently, the sailors trusted Charles’s mentor much more than they trusted Charles, despite Master Kenway’s position in the Colonial Rite.

The knowledge would have irritated Charles had it not suited his purposes. He spent the majority of the day concentrating at the amulet and hoped for that familiar green to wash over him.

None did.

Despite his best efforts and hours of straining and sweating at the damn thing, the amulet remained dull and unresponsive.

If Charles’s temper tended towards the petulant, he would have thrown the thing against the wall. As it was, he was still not advised to leave the bed, particularly as they had hit a series of rough patches in the ocean, and he knew he would not be able to retrieve it if he did give into the impulse.

He really, really wanted to though.

Charles clenched his uninjured hand around the amulet and tried once again to bring up a fleck of green, a hint of the otherworldly.

Nothing.

He muttered a curse.

Those Who Came Before were evidently similar to every other entity out there. There when one didn’t need them and conveniently absent when one did.

“Fat lot of use that was,” Charles muttered to himself.

“What was?”

Charles whipped his head up so quickly that he actually managed to give himself whiplash.

Immediately, a familiar pair of hands gently rubbed at his neck, soothing his aching muscles and easing his strained ligaments.

“I apologize for startling you,” his wife murmured. “It was not my intention.”

Charles could only mumble a rather incoherent affirmative, too off balance from Connor’s sudden appearance (and the pleasurable firmness of those hands on the back of his neck) to think of a reply.

“I did not think your people enjoyed touching others,” was the only thing to come out of his unthinking brain.

He berated himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Did he want those hands to stop?

Luckily, his wife only chuckled.

“I have not lived amongst my people for many years, and with your injured shoulder, you could hardly be expected to reach this spot yourself.”

True that.

“Would you like me to stop?”

“No!”

God, no.

Those hands were blissful and just having his wife initiate this touch, seek him out for a change... Well, it felt better than he could ever have believed.

Those warm, callused hands expertly soothed away his aches, and Charles closed his eyes and almost groaned in pleasure.

Was this what willingness felt like?

Soon, too soon, those hands left his person, and Charles felt bereft for the loss.

----

As Connor dragged a chair by Charles’s bedside, he privately wondered what had gotten into him. While it was true that he had come to better understand his rather grumpy patient over the past couple of days (and gained a new insight as to why the Alpha might have the temper he did if he had to deal with Connor’s father’s suggestions day in and day out), they were not close friends. Connor ought not take such liberties with the Alpha.

But seeing that gobsmacked face as he walked in, recognizing that telltale wince, Connor had reacted with thought.

He supposed...he supposed he had gotten used to the man. Not so comfortable around him that he trusted him completely but enough that he sometimes forgot not to trust him.

“We are stopping early today to restock on supplies at a midway port. I have dropped anchor and sent Faulkner and the rest of my crew for food and fresh water and ammunition for our guns. And I thought to check on your progress.”

He paused, chewing his lip in nervousness as a thought came to him.

“I hope that I am not intruding?”

Charles shook his head, and those blue eyes opened to regard him in curiosity.

“As a matter of fact, I have been looking forward to your visit.”

“Oh?”

That was intriguing.

“I have told you much about my own background, and I would take this opportunity to learn more of yours.”

Connor nodded. It was not what he had been prepared with, but it was no less than fair and agreed upon.

He clasped his hands nervously on top of the chair and leant forward, leaning his chin into his cusp of his hands.

Where to start?

“I was very happy,” he began, “in my early years. Mother raised me well, and I had many friends. We spent many a day playing hide and seek outside, and I knew no deprivation or pain.”

Charles looked thoughtful.

“Was that what you were playing when I...” he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

Connor fidgeted. It still hurt to think about.

“Yes. It was what we were playing when you first came upon me.”

Charles looked away in guilt.

“It is not much, but I am sorry for how I behaved.”

Connor felt a spike of anger, but it fizzled soon. The true horror of that day was in the burning of his village, and that was not the work of this man or his compatriots.

“If I may ask,” he whispered, “why did you feel it necessary to use such harsh methods? I would have been far less suspicious of you through other means and may even have led you to what you sought.”

The Alpha looked even more uncomfortable, and those blue eyes met his reluctantly.

“You may have noticed that I am not the most—level-headed—of individuals,” he murmured. “We had already been searching for many days at that point and had the misfortune to meet with many hostile individuals in the Frontier. It is not an excuse, but, I took out my built up anger on you.”

Connor nodded. It made sense, even if it did not help him to hear.

“It is something I have been working on,” Charles continued. “My anger and lack of control over my own emotions have since caused me to lose people very dear to me, and I am working to bring it under control.”

Ah. Progress, but too late to spare Connor from such an experience.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Connor murmured.

Charles shook his head.

“It is my own fault.” Then he smiled. “But please, continue.”

Connor shook his head to clear it.

Charles Lee, he was beginning to learn, was quite a complex individual.

“The day I met you, I had been playing hide and seek with my friends out in the woods. After our—encounter—I made my way back to my village and found it burning.”

His voice hushed into a whisper.

“My first thought was Mother, so I went looking for her. When I finally found her, she was...pinned. I tried to free her, but could not and was carried away from her before the entire building fell on us.”

It was painful to speak. To even think about. So many things remained unsaid, about how he watched her burning and watched as many more friends and acquaintances had perished that awful, awful night.

Two hands grasped his, and he looked into regretful blue eyes.

“I am sorry,” Charles said. “If I would have had any idea that that was going to happen, then I would have done all I could to prevent it. No child should have gone through that.”

Not even a child of my people? Was on the tip of Connor’s tongue. But he looked into blue eyes and considered what he knew of Charles Lee.

No, Charles would not have let that happen if he had known about it. Not to his Grandmaster’s former allies. Connor knew enough of him to know that he had his own brand of honor.

“It took me over 10 years to learn, but it is not your fault. I spent the next 7 years with my tribe before I underwent my spirit journey, and then the next few learning the craft of the Assassin.”

Charles grimaced at this.

“And getting involved with the likes of the Sons of Liberty and George Washington.”

All good humor died.

“What is your problem with the commander and his colleagues? They are fine decent men, even if one of them is a pervert,” Connor muttered, thinking of Paul Revere. “I admit that the commander may not be the best strategist, but he is brilliant in logistics and other matters.”

Charles growled.

“You give him too much credit. How many battles has he lost since he has taken command? And of those we won, how many were due to your direct intervention—“

And Connor coloured thinking of Lexington and Concord and Mister Pitcairn.

“—and how many were due to the superior leadership skills of other generals?”

Connor put up a hand as if to hold off the onslaught.

“And could I or those other generals have been able to inspire the people as he has? Could we have made sure that supplies arrived on time, that the troops are adequately fed, clothed and have the ammunition to fight?”

“That’s not the job of a commander!”

Connor pinched his nose.

“It is an important duty nonetheless. One, without which, we would have lost the war a long time ago. And do not forget that George Washington is a good man. He inspires people of different backgrounds to work together for a common good and inspires a unity without which we would collapse.”

Charles looked as if he wanted to hit something.

“He burned your village!”

And Connor would only stare on in horrified shock.

Thanks! :) I'm afraid Charles's mouth has run away on him again...

crosses fingers for angsty noncon

Lol! :D Angsty noncon. So delish. Especially the way you write it in Honeymoon and GSTQ and Shattered Glass. :D

Lol oh, Paul you're going to be on the hitlist of many Alphas if they found out you were feeling up Connor through the Midnight Ride. But DAMN that end where Charles just blurted out Washington's role...

O_O CHARLES WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?!?!

I wonder how Connor is going to handle this, just when he was starting to trust and like Lee, this bombshell falls on him. Hope this doesn't destroy the alliance and all of Charles and Haytham's hard work.

omg, this is great! please update soon, writer!anon

Hope this doesn't destroy the alliance and all of Charles and Haytham's hard work.

Especially since they're still on a ship. :D

Paul you're going to be on the hitlist of many Alphas if they found out you were feeling up Connor through the Midnight Ride

Hehe, that actually might be very fun to write. :D

Well I doubt Connor is so heartless to maroon them, especially since Charles saved his life - he may give them the silent treatment until he speaks to George about this, at least I hope this happens for Charles' sake - cause then he'll have two pissed Kenways

Oh, and please let Charles and Haytham find out the midnight ride... LOL Connor would have so put up with working with Pitcairn if he could have avoid Paul riding behind him, feeling him, and SHOUTING directions in his ear while there was a bunch of redcoats on patrol.

Well I doubt Connor is so heartless to maroon them

They are actually right at a port at the moment, but yeah, Connor won't maroon them. :D You're kind of tempting me with the idea of two pissed Kenways. Hehehe.

Paul riding behind him, feeling him, and SHOUTING directions in his ear while there was a bunch of redcoats on patrol

My head-canon is that Connor dumped Revere a few times when he got 'handsy'.

A/N: Oops the last part was supposed to be 4a, and this is the real 4b, or just the last part of this one-shot. Wrote this without a lot of sleep, so I apologize if Connor's thoughts are bouncing all over the place - he's kind of on an emotional roller coaster ride of ups and downs here.

With no other hindrances along the way, they arrived in Boston earlier than expected. Charles allowed the group a few days rest before he would unveil his their next course of action in this war, but sent out missives to the members of the Inner Circle. Connor hoped these plans would involve taking down the current Commander-in-Chief and longed to take vengeance on behalf of his people and himself.

Since most of the Kenway servants were serving his father in New York, Charles had insisted that he stay with him at his townhouse rather than another inn. Which suited him fine as he got along very well with the Lee household servants over his many visits, and the two Templars would have more time to plan out their next move. However, as his soon-to-be husband offered him a hand down from his horse when they arrived, the Omega was suddenly overcome by the realization that this large house - along with the manor outside of Boston - would be his permanent home.

In marriage, husband and wife were not be equal partners. In society's eyes, he belonged to his Alpha and in exchange for having a family - as dignified and respected as Charles Lee's - he would have to sacrifice his personal freedom. No longer would he be able to live with his father or roam around alone as he pleased. Would he have to give up his Templar duties and be a 'good wife' for the rest of his days? It was unfair... but at the same time, Connor was nearly willing to accept.

He still remembered that time in the Green Dragon, where he watched a male couple's happiness over the baby they were expecting. Connor had wanted to be that pregnant Omega who looked so happy to be loved by his Alpha and carried a child they would love and raise together. After living so many years practically alone, he desired the idea of a family more than anything. One of his life long ambitions, the young Omega never thought he would have...

"Welcome home, Master Lee."

Standing off to the side, Connor watched as the servants greeted Charles with warm reverence in their tone as they assisted him with the removal of his long coat and collected his baggage.

Connor admired their fierce loyalty. Although his father was a perfect gentleman at all times, his second-in-command was not. Long ago, both Connor and William had nicknamed Charles Lee "Ounewaterika" or "boiling water" for his violent temper. Yet no matter how many times he lashed out, his servants were quick to forgive and never behaved any differently from what Connor had seen over the years he frequented the other Templar's home.

The Omega wondered if he could act similarly if his future husband were to lash out at him. He could take any form of verbal abuse, but what about physical? After so much fighting over the years, his body had been conditioned to absorb and counter an assault. But if he were to hurt Lee, an important figure in both the Order and the Continental Army, even in self-defense, what consequences would he - as an Omega, a half-native, and a wife - have to face?

He made to open his mouth to ask about their upcoming marriage, when the head manservant - and one of the oldest members of the help - spoke up.

"Ah Mister Kenway, welcome back, sir. It has been quite awhile. I hardly recognized you!"

"It is good to see you again, Ronald."

It had been a long time. Over two maybe four years. He remembered that in his last visit, Charles was working abroad, and he had come to play and care for the Pomeranians as their master could not bring them - not even Spado - with him. Back then, the Omega's build was much smaller than it was at present; lean and too skinny, and kept his hair short and unbound. He knew that he looked completely transformed. Was that a good thing, or did he look physically intimidating now?

"Mary," he heard Charles address the head maid. "Have your girls prepare one of the bedrooms for my fiancée."

Connor was startled by the open engagement and even more so when the servants only smiled, completely unsurprised. He assumed only the Order's Inner Circle knew of the engagement. Had it been only him that was left in the dark?

"At once, sir." The older woman curtsied, giving Connor a warm smile, as she turned and began delegating orders to her maids.

Charles then turned to face him. "In the meanwhile, let's enjoy some tea."

He plastered on a smile and decided to hold off all his questions until they were alone.

Unfortunately, it would not be just the two of them. Not surprisingly, because really, he should have known that Charles' loving family would come out to welcome him home. So he sat patiently, alone at the small table outside, as his Alpha walked across the yard to greet the adoring crowd.

"Hello Spado, Cornelia, Gilbert, Andreas, Alfred, Bartolomeo, Claudio, David, and Edgar."

The pack of nine Pomeranians barked happily as they surrounded their beloved master, who knelt down upon the grass - uncaring of the stains upon his trousers - to pet and inspect each pup. Had he not known Charles to be an avid dog lover for years, he would have been shocked speechless at the sight. Here was the rough and regimented Templar General, laughing with glee, as he was assaulted by several licking tongues that bathed his face and hands in doggy kisses.

From beneath the rim of his teacup, Connor smiled at the sight. Perhaps there was a way to dispel the Alpha's foul temperament after all. If these fluffy little creatures could bring their master such joy, then it was no wonder at least one of them was usually in his company.

While his future husband was happily occupied, the Omega gazed down at his warped reflection that danced upon his tea. Did he really want this union? He was certain his father would allow him to back out of this engagement with a proper excuse; but did he want to? Did Charles even want this... want him, or was this under the Grandmaster's orders?

It had be.

Unlike Clipper and Noah, he knew he was not a desirable Omega. No matter how well he tried to clean up or how polite and charming he tried to be; he would always be stared and pointed at as an anomaly. Nor, was he a docile and delicate as colonists wanted their Omega spouses to be. Connor was a hunter of the Templar Order, one of their many weapons they relied on to help liberate and change the country for the benefit of all men.

Although he was not proud of it, he was an efficient killer. Ruthless and brutal, he was certain he would have murdered Washington on sight, had he not sheathed his dagger. What Alpha in their right mind would marry him of their own volition?

"Connor..."

He immediately broke out of his torturous mix feelings of this marriage and self-loathing, and stared at Lee who had walked away from the Pomeranians to take hold of a missive from a Templar courier. All the happiness the Alpha exuded after being united with his dogs was gone. That wide smile was replaced with a grim frown.

"What is it?" he asked, staring warily that paper in the Alpha's hands as if it were a snake about to strike. But three words had caught him completely off guard. The porcelain cup holding his cool tea, fell from fingerless-gloved fingers, and shattered loudly upon the deck.

"Pitcairn is dead."

Hooray, glad to hear it's not abandoned!

This might not make any sense, but please bear with me.

Okay, A/B/O is not just my anti-kink, it is The Antikink of the Apocalypse for me. Pregnancy fics really squick me out, too. So you'd think that this whole series of fills would be my worst nightmare, right? Well... Yeah, that's a pretty accurate statement. So for the past few weeks I've just been ignoring the updates to this AU series (I browse the meme in flat view).

Except that in the last week or two, two particular fills in this series ended up really standing out to me while I was skimming through the meme updates, and were actually pretty enjoyable (IPOH and First Word).

And when I say 'pretty enjoyable' I mean that they're really really excellent. Even though the basic premise of the AU is something that squicks and triggers me to no end, you have made me really care for your interpretations of the characters. The plots (especially IPoH) are interesting, and I have no idea how you've managed to
make me want to read more, but you have.

Seriously, four for you, anon.

It should have surprised me, but somehow it didn't, coming from Charles... Hahaha silly Charles - striking at the most convenient times. I also love that Paule Revere reference. Heh like I'm gonna believe they 'accidentally' left only one horse for the two of them pfffft

apologies about the delay; it's finals week here--have a big update as compensation!
---

X.

Altair's return is quiet, the other man evidently doing his best to not rouse Malik's temper once again; apparently there's some sense of self-preservation in his head, and he's realized that trying the Dai's patience after his display earlier would likely end with literal bloodshed. Recording Altair's kill and taking his bloodied feather, Malik's brusque offer of shelter and supplies, is the extent of their conversation, and Altair disappears afterwards through the lattice again, likely to cause more mischief on his own time before the sun sets.

Malik smells the blood and tenses before he processes the footsteps coming closer, whips his head upright as additional scents come to him as the distance between what's bleeding and the Bureau closes (he hadn't heard bells for ages; there were some half an hour ago, but they'd stopped quickly), and his eyes widen as the person registers, the Dai bolting out from behind his counter to the lattice as a bruised and bloodied Altair drops down into shelter with a groan and thump.

His legs buckle underneath him as he lands, sending him onto the floor, and the smell of iron is mixed with the markers for stress, exhilaration, satisfaction, pain, and Malik lays his hand on him before he really registers the action, attempting to soothe the spikes, before his mind catches up and he turns the action into examining Altair, trying to find his wounds.

"What happened," he snaps; the Assassin is bleeding from a gash on his upper arm, his temple, an arrow affixed in his side, which is the source of most of the blood, and Malik drags him closer to the fountain so he can start cleaning up the blood, mind already cataloging what he'll need, judging how serious the arrow wound is from the way Altair is clutching at it.

"There was a girl--"

"And what; did you get so addled by her scent that you lost basic reason?"

Altair growls, actually growls at him, low and throaty and threatening, and Malik can't help the shiver and stiffening of his spine at it; he tosses a scowl back at him for doing so before fetching bandages and rags, needle and thread. "She was being harassed by guards, Malik; I couldn't leave her--even betas don't deserve that sort of treatment."

Malik blinks, then blinks again, staring down at Altair for one surprised heartbeat as he processes the man's words; a beta? Only a beta, and a civilian at that? Why would Altair rescue a civilian that had nothing to do with his mission, be willing to risk injury for the sake of a stranger?

He shakes his head and kneels instead, snaps, "Relax" at Altair, else removing the arrow would be more painful that it will be already, and gets to work, hand moving automatically even as his mind races.

XI.

By the time Malik is done patching Altair up, night has fallen and two other Assassins are waiting to report on information from their respective missions; the Dai leaves Altair where he lies, deciding to not comment on the way the man is obviously clinging to consciousness in the wake of receding adrenaline and pain, and gestures both waiting into the inner room, where he records what they have to say.

They disappear soon afterwards, citing a previous engagement and a need to return to Masyaf quickly, and leave via the lattice; Malik closes and locks it after them with a sigh of relief before turning his attention back to the lightly-dozing Altair.

Then he shakes his head and goes to make a small dinner.

Malik prods Altair awake with his foot, enough food for the both of them balanced on a tray in his hand, and Altair snaps awake with a snarl, lashing out; Malik skips back easily, expecting the response, and steps closer again once the alpha winces and settles back at the pull of the stitches in his side, glaring up at Malik balefully.

"What."

In response, Malik kicks a cushion to him and seats himself upon it, setting the tray down between them; he gestures at the bread, olive oil, watered wine, figs, upon it, and Altair grunts almost apologetically and reaches over.

"No dates?"

"Do not test your luck, idiot."

Altair eats little and drinks even less, and gingerly rolls over to sleep afterwards; unfazed, Malik finishes his meal before standing and gathering the tray.

"Stay for a few days," he orders, "You're in no condition to ride back to Masyaf like that."

Altair's only response is to grunt, and Malik resists the childish urge to roll his eyes before retreating to his bedroom to sleep.

XII.

It's good that Altair follows his advice for once and stays at the Bureau; he has a fever by noon of the following day, and spends his time in irritable, broken sleep with a dampened cloth draped over his face. The fever is not serious (Altair has had worse at Masyaf, in the course of training--and Malik has to bite back memories and snarls at thinking of the past, pushes it firmly out of his head to be dealt with later), but it leaves the alpha testy, filling the front room with the scent of it and sickness, which in turn makes (Malik) the brothers and sisters that visit twitchy. No-one wants to cross an alpha that is giving off such strong signals, and, as the sun inches past its apex, Malik gives up and decides to risk Altair's temper, storming over and getting his shoulder underneath the alpha's chest.

Altair grunts in discomfort at the contact, then growls at Malik; he snarls back, which apparently startles Altair into a few moments of silence, during which the Dai says, "You're a nuisance even unconscious; I'm moving you into the back room."

Altair finds his feet in response, and Malik takes it as agreement.

He settles the alpha on one of the beds in a back room, helps Altair reachieve horizontal, checks his bandages, and goes back out into the front room for Altair's weapon belts and boots, which he brings back and dumps near the man; Malik touches him on the shoulder before he goes back outside, taking a moment to scent the air for undue stress.

Nothing; if anything, the amount that's there is lower than what he would have expected. That suits the Dai just fine, and he leaves Altair to sleep with a sense of satisfaction.

XIII.

Of course, the situation is a little different that night; Malik wakes up from his sleep at a solid thump that he hears even through the wall. Instinctively, he knows it's Altair, and he bolts out of bed and down the hall before he can think about it, pausing at the entrance to the infirmary as he assesses the situation.

Altair has managed to roll out of the bed in his fever-sleep, dragging all the blankets off of the bed with him and curling up on the cool stone floor; bright, slightly-glazed gold eyes stare balefully up at him from the mass of cloth, and Malik resists the urge to curse.

Instead, he goes to fetch water and comes back to the same sight.

"Altair," he tries, and gets nothing for his effort but a growl in response, an alpha sound warning unknowns away; Malik scoffs at it, because Altair's current condition hardly matches up with the threat implied in the noise. He steps closer, and the growl increases in volume before cutting off abruptly; Altair shifts, twitching as a movement evidently aggravates his wounds, leaning closer to Malik.

"Yes, it's me, you ass." Malik sighs, contemplates for a moment the futility of talking at Altair in the condition he's in, and steps closer instead, settling on the floor and holding out the cup of water he's holding towards him. "Drink."

Altair stares at it for a moment, then turns his attention back to Malik; the Dai grits his teeth as the Assassin leans even closer, threatening to topple over, and grudgingly moves closer so Altair doesn't fall onto his face. The alpha emits a pleased sort of rumbling noise at that, moving closer as well, more suddenly than he had, and Malik has to focus on not spilling the water as Altair practically looms over him, before leaning heavily on him and burying his face firmly in the crook of his neck.

Malik freezes. Resists the urge to bolt, because that would spill the water and dump Altair on his face and bruise his nose if nothing else (as appealing as the idea sounds), but the man's (more) out of his mind at the moment and Malik himself is possibly a bit half-asleep as well, because that's the only explanation he has for allowing Altair to stay there.

In fact, after a few heartbeats, all Malik can think to say is, "If you bite, I am punching you in the face, injuries or not. Drink the water," and Altair makes a grumbling noise of assent and annoyance, breath huffing out hot against the bare skin of Malik's neck and chest, before sitting up enough to take a few sips out of the cup and resettling himself where he'd been with an air of grumpiness.

"You are such a child," Malik hisses at him, prods him sharply in the ribs, which gets him another few sips of water and an annoyed growl, and keeps at it until the cup is empty. Stupid stubborn alphas, and Altair the most foolish and stubborn of them all.

"I'm not staying," he says after he's set the cup aside, and in response Altair leans on him with all his weight, and flaps up one arm to drape around Malik's neck, and the omega takes a few moments to catalogue all the ways he could leave Altair in extreme pain in retaliation against his familiarity before giving the entire thing up as a bad job and lying down in the mess of blankets Altair's created.

Altair presses against him, bare chest to bare chest, and snuffles contentedly at his neck, nosing at the curve of his ear and the corner of his jaw before settling; Malik reiterates his previous warning about physical violence in case of teeth, and Altair has the audacity to laugh at it before mumbling "thank you" to him and promptly dropping back off into sleep.

Malik stays awake, turning the words over in his head until Altair's fever breaks, before closing his eyes as well.

Pitcairn is dead.

Oh dear. What terrible timing for them. Connor is going to be so devastated and with his earlier doubts about the marriage in place...

//pets Connor//

And Charles must be starting to get nervous. First Johnson, now Pitcairn. He must be wondering who's next. They're such a family here, despite everything, and now two of them are dead...

Love Charles playing with the poms as usual. :D

but somehow it didn't, coming from Charles

Yeah, no, Charles is...temperamental. And he's trying, but the only surprise would be if he didn't do something enormously stupid. :D

I <3 that Paul Revere ride for how utterly funny it was. At the time of playing, though, I think I really just wanted to dump him off the horse. I mean, seriously Paul...wouldn't it have been easier just to steer the damn horse yourself?

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 27

Re: Achilles and Connor

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 27

Re: Artistic Assassin

Re: Haytham is a bad father

Re: Haytham jealous of Achilles

Re: Connor and Achilles: Growing Up, gen

Re: Abbas/Malik noncon, hinted Altair/Malik

Re: Drabble Fill: Be Prepared 1/1

Author anon

In Pursuit of Happiness 28

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 27

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 27

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 28

Re: you can't take the sky from me [6/?]

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 28

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 28

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 28

One-shot: A Mutual Enemy 4b/4

Re: connor/charles captured, reverse

Re: One-shot: A Mutual Enemy 4b/4

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 28

our lives together are a work in progress [4/?]

Re: One-shot: A Mutual Enemy 4b/4

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 28