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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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Part 1
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The Super Important Assassin Mission [2/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-12 08:09 am (UTC)(link)“Where are we going?” Clipper hissed to him. He was having difficulty balancing the giant Nerf gun on his shoulder.
“Their headquarters,” Connor replied in a hushed voice, brushing past him to take the lead. Haytham and Charles’s room was just right down the hall from his. His father never let him into his room, which made Connor draw the logical conclusion that there must be secret Templar information hidden in there.
The banister overlooked the living room and from the soft voices from the television Connor could tell that the two evil Templars were down there. This was going to be the hardest part of the mission: sneaking past them. He stopped so abruptly that Clipper ran into his back and Connor whirled around, pressing his index finger to his lips to shush him. He sank back against the wall and Clipper scooted next to him. Cautiously, very cautiously, Connor peeked his head around the corner and looking down the staircase to the living room.
He made a disgusted face, leaning back immediately. The Templar Grandmaster and his second were indeed on the couch, but Charles was practically in Haytham’s lap and it looked like he was trying to suck the skin off his neck.
“Gross,” Connor whispered, retching.
“What’re they doing?” Clipper’s eyes grew to the size of saucers and he tried to lean forward to get a peek. Connor shoved him back but Clipper was strong when he wanted to be and nudged around Connor. He gaped down at the living room where the two Templars were now lip-locked. “They’re kissing!”
“I told you!” Connor dragged Clipper back behind the corner. He glared in concentration. “We gotta sneak by.”
Clipper craned his neck to look again. “We could probably just walk right by, Connor. They look pretty—”
Connor cut him off with a dismissive snort and dropped down to his hands and knees. Slurping at each other or not, it was important not to underestimate the Templars. There were times that Connor thought his father wasn’t paying attention, such as during the mission to confiscate and consume Haytham’s leftover mousse from the fancy restaurant he’d forced Connor to go to. His father wasn’t as engrossed in his newspaper as Connor had thought and that mission was written down as a failure.
Connor lowered himself onto his belly and pinched his tongue in between his teeth. The gap where the Templars would be able to see him was only about twice as long as he was, about nine feet (he knew he was four and a half feet because he measured himself last week against the wall at his mom’s house). He army crawled forward, scooting across the floor, pressing himself as close to the ground as possible. He kept a steady eye on the Templars, but they didn’t even notice the little boy wiggling across the second-floor hallway. Charles was sitting on Haytham’s lap like he was riding a pony and the television droned on. This would teach them to let their guard down without checking to make sure Connor was actually in bed. Connor scrambled behind the far wall and curled his knees up to his chest, safe and out of sight.
Clipper clutched his Nerf gun tightly. Connor could tell that his sharpshooter was looking to bail on the mission and so he shot him a deadly look, frantically motioning for him to hurry. Clipper slowly got down on his knees. He peeked around the corner and then frantically crawled across the gap on his hands and knees. Connor could have hit his head against the wall. He clearly demonstrated how it was supposed to be done and still Clipper couldn’t imitate him. But his father and Charles hadn’t even noticed the soft thumping. Some Templars they were.
Connor wrestled the mission log out of his hoodie pocket and flipped it open as Clipper pressed against the wall next to him.
Spy Mission
Connor wrote at the top of the page and underlined it.
Templars distracted. assassins have element of surprise.
He was proud of himself for learning how to spell “Assassin” correctly. His mother had to write it over and over for him.
The mission was going perfectly so far. Connor shoved the mission log back into his large pocket and stood, dragging Clipper up with him. He motioned to door at the far end of the hall. The master bedroom: the place where Connor wasn’t allowed to go. The two boys crept to the end of the hall and paused before the large door. Connor cracked a little grin as he grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open.
The master bedroom was impossibly clean. It looked like someone had died in there. Connor tiptoed inside and Clipper followed, pressing close behind him.
“Shut the door!” Connor whispered and Clipper bobbed his head vigorously, closing the door behind him.
“Connor—” he started.
Connor knew that Clipper intended to start whining about how they shouldn’t be poking around in his father’s room, and he waved a hand dismissively at him. “Start looking!”
“For what?” Clipper was glancing around the room as if something was going to jump out at him.
“Anything,” Connor said in a voice just above a whisper. “Templar plans. Abstergo stuff. Something about my dad or Charles Lee.”
Connor couldn’t entirely hate his father, even though he was, after all, a diabolical Templar. But he was his father and that meant his mother had thought he was okay at some point, and Haytham did cut the crusts off of Connor’s sandwiches if he whined enough. But Charles Lee was a different matter. Charles Lee was evil. Connor had known that ever since he’d met him. Haytham came back into Connor’s life with Charles already in tow. They were a pair, and from the beginning Charles made it abundantly clear that he didn’t know how to deal with children and he’d never thought he would have to. For his part, Connor made it abundantly clear that he’d never thought he would have to deal with a grouchy man who was obsessed with his Pomeranian and didn’t even know you were supposed to cut sandwiches into triangles and not rectangles.
Charles downright avoided him, not that Connor cared what that stupid mustache-faced Templar did. Ever since the time when Charles shoved him up against the wall, Charles rarely even said a word to him. It hadn’t even been a mission. It was just him yelling at Charles and Charles snapping at him and then all of a sudden Charles snapped altogether and grabbed Connor’s shirt and pushed him up against the wall. Connor had always hated Charles Lee, but that was the first time he’d ever been scared of him. His father had come in and demanded for Charles to release Connor immediately. When his father dragged Charles upstairs to their room Connor could hear them yelling, that Connor was his child and he alone decided how to discipline him, that Connor was unruly and spoiled and they weren’t going to work if Connor didn’t learn some respect.
If it was a mission, Connor supposed it would have been a success. Pitting Templar Grandmaster against his second-in-command, that was good. But he didn’t write it down in his mission log. Instead he curled up on his bed and tried to make the sick feeling in his stomach go away until his father called him for dinner. Charles wasn’t at the dinner table that night and Connor was glad the next day was Sunday so that he could go back to his mother’s house.
Connor pulled his Nerf pistol from his pocket, cocking it towards the ceiling as he scampered over to the wardrobe. He hid his mission log in his sock drawer; perhaps his father hid his Templar plans in his sock drawer. As he yanked out drawers and shoved around the neatly folded clothing, all he found was a quarter and a nickel. There was not a single Templar Master Plan in there. So the Templars were better at hiding their things than he thought.
“Connor... What’s that?” Clipper asked nervously from across the room. Connor’s head popped up. Clipper had opened the drawers of the nightstand on the side of the bed nearest to the door, and he was staring down at the drawer with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. Connor shoved closed the wardrobe drawers and trotted over to stand beside Clipper.
As he stared down at the open drawer, he realized that he had no idea what the strange object was either. It was long and pink and looked like it was made from glass. There were knobs on either end and the middle had lines going across it. Connor decided it looked like a very long worm.
“It’s a fake worm,” he told Clipper. Why it was in their nightstand drawer Connor hadn’t a clue, but surely this meant something. He was reaching down to grab it when he noticed something else beneath it. “Handcuffs!” Connor snapped, grabbing the handcuffs beneath the dildo and pulling them out accusingly. This was exactly the sort of incriminating evidence he was looking for.
Clipper was lingering timidly behind him. “Why does your dad have handcuffs?” he asked in a small voice.
“Someone has been held prisoner in here,” Connor replied, glancing around the room as if the victim would still be in there.
This was definitely going in the mission log. He tossed the handcuffs at Clipper, who squeaked and was too busy holding onto his Nerf gun to catch them. Connor whipped out his mission log and pressed it against his knee as he scribbled down notes.
• Toy worm???
• Handcuffs!!
They were definitely getting somewhere. As he was shoving his mission log back inside of his hoodie, he realized something. He could no longer hear the television on downstairs.
“Clipper—” Connor began, but quieted immediately as he heard voices down the hall. He froze. His father and Charles were stumbling down the hall. “They’re coming! Hide!”
Clipper’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Where?” he asked and as he grabbed the handcuffs off the ground and dumped them back into the drawer. He sounded genuinely frightened. Connor slammed the drawer shut, his mind reeling. Assassins never lost their cool. They were smart and stealthy and could hide from Templars without detection.
“Under the bed!” he decided on a whim, gesturing frantically to the giant king-sized bed. Clipper needed no further direction and dove under the bed. Connor wiggled under after him, and the two boys pressed close together as the bedroom door flew open. Connor could see the legs of his father and Charles Lee. Even worse, by the strange sighing and groaning noises they were making, he guessed they were still kissing. Connor made a face and glanced over at Clipper. Judging by the other boy’s shocked expression, he’d come to the same conclusion as well.
The bed groaned and sank downwards as Haytham fell backwards onto it and Charles fell on top of him. Connor shifted a bit so he could pull out his mission log and his pencil. This was a prime spying position. Now if only they’d stop slobbering all over each other for a moment and start talking about Templar plans.