Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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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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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
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Fill: No Danger (Haytham/Charles Omegaverse 4/?)

[(Anonymous)]

Charles hates many things about being an Omega. He hates the way society believes he is only good for producing children, hates the way he is expected to always be submissive to the Alphas and Betas around him, and most of all he hates the heats.

The air is stifling, his blankets too constricting around him, and his clothes too heavy. He does what he can to remove the latter two, uncaring of the haphazard way the garments and blankets fall to the floor. He can deal with the mess later. Or the maids can deal with it. He doesn’t care as long as no one deals with it now. He has little patience for most everyone on a regular basis, the last thing he needs is to deal with them while he’s in heat.

If Charles were in his right state of mind, he might have heard the heavy footsteps coming down the hall and the shouts of the servants telling the owner of those footsteps that he is not welcome in the house at this time. If Charles were in his right state of mind, he might have wondered just when Haytham managed to pick the lock of his room and just how his servants managed to be so incompetent that they couldn’t stop him. As he is, drunk with lust and doing all he can to keep himself on the bed instead of flinging himself at the nearest person, he can’t think of that. All he can think of is the scent of Haytham when he walks in the room and how it seems to fill the air until it’s nearly suffocating. Charles could drown in the scent. He almost wants to. It’s a scent most fitting of a man like Haytham—strong, commanding of attention, and very nearly perfect.

The scent gets stronger with every step closer Haytham takes and Charles grips the sheets so hard that he manages to draw blood from the palms of his hands even through the fabric. He lets out a strangled sob when Haytham lays a hand on his shoulder and inches away from the touch as best he can. The touch is light, light enough that it might not have been noticeable under normal circumstances, but as he is it’s overwhelming.

“Please, sir.”

Charles isn’t sure what he’s begging for. Is he begging for Haytham to take him—to fuck him so hard that Charles won’t be able to remember anything but the feeling of Haytham’s cock inside of him? Or is he begging Haytham to leave so that he might suffer this heat on his own as he has ever since his first one?

Either way, he doesn’t elaborate and Haytham doesn’t do either of the two. He removes his hand from Charles shoulder when he sees the way even that small touch affects the Omega, but he remains close. Too close. Close enough that if Charles were to shift his position just a few inches to the left he could press his nose to Haytham’s crotch, mouth at it, and maybe take Haytham completely in his mouth if he’d let Charles. Oh, how he’d love to be able to taste Haytham like that. How he’d love for Haytham to take him over and over and over again until he passes out and then maybe take him again when he wakes.

Without really thinking about it, Charles begins moving closer again, begins to act on his desires until he feels a hand on his shoulder again, grip firmer this time. it’s a grip meant to keep him in place and it brings a whimper out of Charles both because of the resistance and because of the sensation of skin against skin. Doesn’t Haytham realize how much this is affecting him?

“Have you no one to help you?”

There’s something about the way Haytham asks the question, something angry, though Charles is far too out of it to really notice it.

Charles opens his eyes—when had he shut them?—and looks up to Haytham with a shake of his head and a pleading gaze. Haytham returns it with a pitying look and that hurts more than anything. He’d wanted to impress Haytham and this was likely the least impressive state anyone could have ever seen him in.

“You’re stronger than this, Charles. You’ll pull through on your own.”

He isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but Charles thinks he hears some resentment in Haytham’s words and sees a matching anger in his eyes. And maybe some measure of jealousy. Charles catches himself before he actually finishes that thought. Jealousy? Over what? Over having to lock himself in his room so as to avoid bonding himself to the first Alpha to cross his path? Over having to restrain himself with every ounce of energy he has in him, else he might not be able to stop himself from getting on his knees and begging Haytham to fuck him? There’s nothing to be jealous of.

Were Charles a little more coherent, he might have noticed the way that Haytham’s gaze was unfocused, distant, as though looking at someone far away rather than the man right in front of him. Were he more coherent, he might have noticed the tense set of Haytham’s shoulders as he tried to restrain himself from giving Charles exactly what he wanted. Were Charles in Haytham’s head, he might have known how Haytham is cursing Braddock for putting Charles through this.

Oh, Haytham knows how Charles has tried to keep the subject of his engagement a secret, but he did not come to the colonies completely uninformed. He’d asked Reginald for bits of information on the people he was to meet here and while Reginald hadn’t shared much, he had certainly shared the details of Charles’ engagement. At the time, he hadn’t thought much of it. He’d thought it fortunate for the Omega that he was being given a chance at joining their ranks, but beyond that he hadn’t cared much.

Now he wishes to strangle both Braddock and Reginald. If there is one thing Haytham admires in a man, it is loyalty and loyalty is something Charles has in abundance. To make someone as dedicated as Charles suffer in this way—it isn’t right. He can understand the desire to follow tradition, to refrain from mating until after marriage, but traditions are reserved for those who lead normal lives. The idea of making Charles suffer through this makes his blood boil. All Charles wants is to serve the Order—how can he do that, bedridden as he is?

Were Haytham in Braddock’s position, he’d throw out all pretense of caring about traditions and social norms and put Charles at ease. Charles deserved to be at ease. Few people did so much for so little gain as Charles did and to make him suffer instead of giving him some form of reward for his dedication—it was disgusting.

Haytham has to push the images of just how he’d like to put Charles at ease out of his head. He knows they’re caused by the smell of Charles’ heat, knows that under normal circumstances he likely wouldn’t feel quite so strongly about the issue (it’s a lie—he knows he would feel just as strongly, but he refuses to acknowledge that fact just as he refuses to acknowledge the fact that he imprinted on Charles weeks ago), but being in the same room as Charles at this time… it’s hard not to feel this way and to think those things.

“Sir?”

Charles’ voice is weak, exhausted, and Haytham knows that as hard as it is for him to refrain from taking Charles right then and there, it must be a thousand times more difficult for Charles. He needs to leave now. For both their sanities’ sakes, he must get out of this room.

“I will see you in a few days, Charles. Take care.”

Haytham leaves no room for response after that, turning sharply from the room and pointedly ignoring the frustrated sounds Charles lets out and the creaking of the bed as Charles ruts against it, hoping to find even the slightest bit of relief.