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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
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Kicking the Habit (1/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-03-22 11:29 pm (UTC)(link)Haytham Kenway was really not having a very good day. There were many reasons for this.
For instance, his mortal enemy, George Washington-- no, not that one, he'd been dead for centuries. No, this George Washington was the businessman who, while bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Founding Father, was actually a half-Norwegian Canadian hailing from Montreal, with no blood ties to the real Washington whatsoever. The businessman who had somehow managed to get his hands on plans Haytham had for the new advertising campaign for Abstergo Industries' latest generation of personal entertainment devices, thus leading to the Farm Corporation releasing their new (plagiarised) ads on Youtube five minutes before the meeting about said advertising campaign was due to start.
Of course, that was only a minor inconvenience, Haytham being to sort of man who kept at least three backup plans on his person at all times. It was still a rather horrid surprise, of course, and meant he needed to weed out whoever had sold said plans to Washington in the first place. They would beg for mercy when he was done with them- though of course as a terribly cultured English gentleman he wouldn't do anything illegal.
There were a number of smaller reasons, too, such as the fact he'd received a kiwi-strawberry white chocolate mocha frappe instead of the plain americano he'd actually ordered at the Starbucks his son worked at (though today was not one of the days Connor usually worked on). The manager, one Ezio Auditore, had evidently been more preoccupied with getting the phone numbers of the girls in the queue than paying attention to Haytham's order. Needless to say, he did not tip his usual ten dollars.
The frappe had been rather tasty, admittedly, but it had meant he'd had to make do with shitty vending-machine tea when he'd gotten back to his office. Shitty vending-machine tea was not something any British person ever wished to drink, but considering that Thomas Hickey had shown up to work hungover and vomited in the teapot Haytham kept in his office, he had to put up with it.
The icing on the metaphorical cake of misfortune and general unhappiness, however, was Charles.
Charles Lee, his supposed best friend and current flatmate, though Haytham was seriously considering moving out. When he'd first come to America, Charles had enthusiastically offered him a place to stay until he could sort an apartment out for himself (though at the time he had been a mere work colleague), and their living arrangements really hadn't changed very much since then. The only differences were that both their names were on the lease, which occasionally lead to some rather… queer misunderstandings, and that Haytham's until-recently-estranged son, Connor, was living in the guest room while he attended college.
Long story short, Haytham found himself explaining "no, we're not a couple, we just live together" more often than he would like to.
Charles, however, seemed to have very different ideas, and seemed to actively try to encourage these misunderstandings, with his rather fastidious ideas on how clothing ought to be co-ordinated, and his rather odd mannerisms and habits. Oh, he could overlook the way Charles insisted on lounging around half-undressed around their apartment, and his tendency to oh-so-subtly create innuendos where none ought to exist, and he could even ignore the way Charles would tug at his ponytail every time he walked past. But there was one particular thing Charles tended to do which really did irk Haytham to no end.
The way he ate bananas.
Haytham was well aware it wouldn't sound like much to someone who'd never seen it. After all, lots of people ate bananas erotically. It's just that none of them had mastered the ability to deep throat a piece of fruit quite as disturbingly as Charles could.
Why was it disturbing? Oh, Haytham could write essays on why Charles' fruit fellatio was disturbing, but the most horrifying thing about the ordeal was that Charles would make eye contact with Haytham whenever possible, casually sliding the long shaft of the fruit out of his mouth as seductively as he could while still apparently unaware he'd just shoved a banana three inches down his throat with no gag reflex in sight.
And he had the gall to attempt to make conversation whenever said saliva-slicked banana was not being fucked by his throat.
"Morning, Haytham. There's a fresh pot of tea by the stove. How did you sleep?"
"Have you seen my Chanel tie, Haytham? The blue one with silver and the-- oh. All right."
"We're out of milk, so don't bother looking. Do you have enough time to pick some up before work?"
That bastard.
Still, the past four days, Charles had been unable to eat anything, having come down with some form of stomach bug. Which, while Haytham did not enjoy seeing Charles so sick and being forced to play nursemaid, meant that he was not unpleasantly surprised by Charles and his god damned banana habit.
In any case, they were out of bananas. He'd kidnapped the last of them the other day and handed them to a homeless man on the way to work, while Charles was still too sick to do anything but sip weakly at some tea. After the day he'd had, the last thing he needed was the sight of Charles' banana habit.
As he pondered how early he could leave the office without pissing Vidic off, his cellphone vibrated. A text message.
we r out of bananas. please buy some more on way home. xxx
A text message from Charles. He was clearly feeling well enough to start eating again, and therefore continue his banana habit. Wonderful.
Haytham gritted his teeth and thought very hard about whether murdering Charles would be worth the hassle of being arrested and tried and almost certainly sent to prison. It was with a heavy heart that he decided that no it wouldn't be. He'd heard the stories about what happened to good-looking men in jail. Charles might enjoy that sort of thing, but Haytham certainly would not.
He resisted the urge to throw his phone out of the window in frustration. What was one to do about a near-stalkerish wannabe-boyfriend flatmate who had a fucking horrible banana habit?
…Wait.
Charles' habit was the result of pent-up sexual frustration and a slightly creepy obsession with Haytham, wasn't it? So perhaps the solution to his problems would be to just indulge Charles for a few hours and hopefully he would never even have to think about a banana being abused ever again.
Haytham fought back a grin, and jotted down a short shopping list. Bananas, of course. Lubricant, condoms, some strong spirits (for afterwards, they'd both need a drink)…
He spent most of the walk home being alternately squicked out and rather interested by the information he found on Google.
Charles would never be able to look at a banana the same way again, if everything went the way Haytham hoped.
OP'S MIND = BLOWN
(Anonymous) 2013-03-23 12:10 am (UTC)(link)I CANNOT WAIT for part 2! C: I'm so anxious and excited!