Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

[asscreedkinkmeme]

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
Fill Only

Join or Die

✩ 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!

List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion

Comments

FILL: Still Alive 1/1

[(Anonymous)]

Let it never be said that Altair did not fear anything. Right now, chained beside Malik as he waited for the captors to get back, his hands working feverishly at the cuffs while Malik watched, Altair feared much. He feared losing Malik, losing himself, losing the Order that he had built so carefully after Al Mualim's death. It was his fear that drove him forward, urging him to undo the cuffs and get them out before the Templars returned with the executioner to put them to death.

It was his fault to begin with. He had fallen for a simple trap; a group of his assassins had been caught and held, and the Templars had waited until Altair had swooped in, ready to rescue them before springing the trap. They had deliberately baited him with the wrong time and place, and set up an ambush. He would have been fine, if Malik hadn't stumbled in on it and gotten snared as well. The instant Altair had heard the mocking laughter and the threat of someone cutting off Malik's other arm, he had felt his heart drop and his stomach bottom out. He could still remember how pale Malik had turned at that threat, and how badly he'd shaken when one of the Templars had recalled Kadar's execution in front of him -- and threatened to give Altair the same treatment once they were locked up.

There had been no novices, no captured assassins; just Malik and Altair bound and chained and locked away in the dungeon until the executioner arrived. It had all been a trick, and like the arrogant fool he was, Altair had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker.

But despite all that, Altair had sworn that Malik need not drown with him. Yes they had both been captured, but that didn't mean they couldn't escape. Time was short; Altair wasn't certain if they would both be able to get away before their captors returned. If that was indeed the case, he would gladly lay down his life to give Malik time to escape.

The shackles finally let go, and Altair desperately scrambled for the one holding Malik to the wall. This one was much easier; Altair got rid of it with a single pick of the lock. Malik dropped down beside him, and both men looked up to the window above. Wordlessly, Altair dropped to his knees and cupped his hand to give Malik a boost up. The dai wasted no time in starting his climb, Altair watching, heart pounding in his chest. He could hear footsteps off in the distance, quickly closing in as Malik reached the top and began to scuttle out.

He wouldn't be able to follow, it seemed.

The door opened, and Altair turned, launching himself at the Templar in a furious need to protect Malik until he was gone. The Templars were quick to realize that they had a break in progress, and the one behind the one in his hands screamed back, calling for help. Armored footsteps began to run, and Altair knew it was only a matter of time before he would be overpowered, with only his hidden blade for protection.

"ALTAIR!"

Malik's voice sounded loud, and when the assassin looked up, he could see his partner's face, eyes smoldering with fury and something like fear. But that couldn't have been right, because Malik wasn't afraid of anything, unlike him.

"Go!" he yelled back, shoving a Templar hard in the chest and sending him stumbling back into the others that had arrived. He couldn't climb fast enough to catch up to Malik before the Templars would get up, so he would take an alternate route - through the fortress itself. He leapt over the Templars and started running, not bothering to stop even when he ran into a couple of guardsmen down the stairs and nearly slammed his head into the ground hard enough to kill him. He just stumbled on, hearing the yells of those behind him and knowing that Malik would never forgive him if he died in such a manner.

Especially not after the stunt he'd pulled already. As it was, he was looking at a pretty decent flogging for "stupidly sacrificing himself", but if it was Malik that delivered it, Altair didn't care, because it would be proof positive that they were both still alive and breathing.

Eventually, although he wasn't sure how, he was out of the fortress and running across dusty ground and crumbling rooftops, heading for whatever direction seemed the safest. He didn't stop running, even after the voices faded in the background, and he came across one of the many abandoned towns the desert had to offer. In fact, the only reason he stopped at all was because a strong, familiar hand yanked him back by his hood, causing him to trip and land face-first on the ground.

The same hand flipped him over, and dragged him back into the shade of a nearby alleyway, slamming him against a nearby wall while a warm body pinned him there. Altair could feel their heartbeat as well as his own, both thundering in the recesses of his body. He felt too hot, and far too shaky for an assassin of his caliber. "What in Allah's name were you thinking?!"

Ah, Malik was pissed. Altair opened his eyes and met the dark gaze of his partner. "I was thinking that if only one of us could get away, I wanted it to be you. You've lost too much, and I... I've barely lost anything. I just... didn't want you to suffer anymore," the words escaped before Altair could put a stopper on them, his mind too tired to hold up anymore. They'd been in that place for a little over three days, with minimum food and water and far too little sleep. Adrenaline was the only reason he was still awake, or even alive.

Maybe it was also the reason Malik made that odd sound in his throat, sort of a desperate, almost too-shaken sound that left him wondering what other interest sounds Malik could make. Without thinking about it, Altair reached out and cupped his hips, thumb petting the bone through the cloth. Malik's entire frame shook, and suddenly Altair's hood was off and a hand was gripping his hair - hard - while lips savagely claimed his own.

It was the spark to start the wildfire. Altair moaned, pulling Malik closer and grinding against him, breathing in the kiss like it was his new form of oxygen. It was suddenly dawning on him that they had gotten away - both he and Malik were gloriously alive instead of dead, missing his second limb and mutilated beyond recognition. The realization was sending all sorts of messages to his mind, the most prominent being that he needed Malik, needed to taste him, feel him inside his body, and cling to him because he was the first and only person he truly cared about, and he had done a horrible job in showing that so far.

Malik bit into Altair's lower lip, drawing blood before pulling back, hand moving from the assassin's hair to his chest, shoving him back while he shoved the robes aside, unbuckling and unclasping things faster than Altair had ever witnessed. As soon as his bronzed skin was bare, Malik's tongue was on it, tracing scars and wounds that would never go away. "You idiot," he murmured between licks, "what makes you think I wouldn't have jumped right back down if you had stayed? The only reason I left is because you did, novice." And then he was adding teeth to the fray, and Altair let him bite and claim the skin because it felt good, and honestly he needed proof that this wasn't all just some crazy dream.

The desert was at its hottest point during the day, but neither man cared, too busy rutting and grinding against one another, clothes slipping off every other movement and baring another part for them to claim in selfish greed. Malik didn't wait long after Altair's pants were off before preparing him, the fingers coated only with saliva and the precum from when he'd had his hand around Altair's cock, undoing the assassin and making his legs weak. Neither made a decent lubricant, both men too eager to truly care. As soon as he was prepped, Altair had his hips in Malik's hands, back against his chest as the one-armed dai thrust in, hand curling around his cock as he started moving.

Altair didn't care that anyone could hear them if they were close enough, or that they were out in the middle of the day doing this; all he cared about was the feeling of Malik inside of him, and bruises and bites the other man made on him because it was all proof that they were both still alive, that they had gotten away from danger yet again when by all means it should have killed them. "M-malik--"

"I know," Malik breathed in his ear, teeth scraping the lobe as he pulled out, turning Altair around and switching their position, sinking down into the sand as Altair mounted him and started riding him as if it was the only thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Malik watched him with dark eyes, hand playing with his cock, fingers brushing over where they were joined on occasion and wrenching a groan from Altair.

The orgasm was as messy and rough as the rest of the sex had been, but neither cared as they finally plunged from the cliff like an eagle in flight, relief and exhaustion crashing over them in the same brutal instant. Malik didn't bother pulling out as Altair sagged against him, breath hot on his sweaty skin. A sense of peace finally settled between them, both men recognizing that this was one of the few days in the desert neither would ever forget, no matter how old they became.

They cleaned up and departed not long after that, the blazing sun overhead their only witness.