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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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✩ 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
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion
Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [9/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-20 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)Just as he'd expected the cold, salty spray of the sea makes it an extremely unpleasant climb. An unforgiving wind is battering continuously against the cliff, although that does at least help to keep him pressed against the slippery rock-face. Moving as cautiously but still quickly as he can the Assassin has already suffered a number of slips and momentary losses of footing. It would admittedly have been a lot faster and easier for him to just take a leap of faith off and dive in after the idiot, but the fact is that he is keen to stay out of the waves unless absolutely necessary. Getting himself drenched as well will do neither of them any good and there is always the map to think of, securely tucked away as it is in the folds of his clothes.
Hazarding a quick glance back upwards he can make out no sign of detection, no sound of the alarm being raised. It seems that they have gotten away with it, just. And while Braddock has unintentionally evaded death this day they now have a detailed idea of his plans. Assassinating him is going to take somewhat longer than anticipated, but really Connor quite likes the sound of that. The longer this can be dragged out, the longer he gets to spend with his present companion. Of course, he will have to convince Achilles and the others if he is to continue this assignment further, seeing as he has really already learned a great deal of useful information. He will make sure they understand the benefits of this arrangement.
Allowing himself to slither down the last foot or so, he reaches a convenient shelf of rock that juts out from the ridge just above the water-level. Finally turning, the novice allows himself to properly survey the water. Much to his relief he finds that Haytham is swimming in his direction, already most of the way over, looking none the worse for wear other than having lost his hat to the ocean. Waiting he carefully dips a finger into the water, confirming that it is as cold as feared. Too long in there or even too long in wet clothes will certainly put him in danger, death from such exposure is not so uncommon after all. Trying not to think too far down this line of thought, Connor focuses on his priorities; getting his companion back on dry land and into shelter. The latter of which is going to be very much easier said than done. To make matters worse darkness is fast starting to close in as the weather begins to worsen further.
'Cold?' Helping him up onto the ledge he can already read the answer from the lack of heat in the man's skin. He masks his worry with exasperation. 'What made you think that jumping into an ocean in the middle of winter was a good idea?'
'It was that or risk being seen.' Sitting back, dripping wet, eyes closed and breathing deeply, Haytham does seem to be starting to slightly regret his choice in spite of his words.
'Of course...' Connor frowns, still not entirely pleased. Crouched on his haunches at his side, one hand absently rubbing the man's back in a vague attempt at warming, the novice looks up at the cliffs.
There is no question of them staying where they are for any length of time. For one thing the tide seems to be on the rise, for another the harsh winds will only serve to freeze his companion faster. However he can see that it is a long way back to the top, a tough climb considering the Templar's condition. Not to mention that it could well take some time to locate anywhere suitable to bunk down for the night, time that they really do not have. It is not as if there are any settlements within easy distance of the fort. So when he spies a decently sized cave that is not too much higher up, yet still above the tideline, there isn't really much of a choice about it. Besides, it looks large enough to accommodate them fairly comfortably, is at an angle to the wind and will undoubtably be secure against any threat of redcoats descending on them in the night. All things considered it is not a bad option.
Indicating the opening with a motion of his head he asks; 'Can you climb to it?'
'Wet and cold, I may be, but I am still quite capable of climbing a few rocks.' Eying it up with disdain, the grandmaster visibly shivers.
Wishing that he had better supplies to deal with this, Connor simply nods acknowledgement and gives his shoulder a brief squeeze before standing. The sooner they get into shelter the sooner he can start really helping his companion. Thus he wastes no time in setting about picking, and demonstrating, the easiest route to the cave, aware that his every move now is being watched closely. Given that Haytham seems capable of scaling buildings then it is probably safe to say that he can get up a few meters of cliff-face, even in his current condition. After all, just because none of the other Assassins can stay up a tree for the life of them, they are all still perfectly able to race up the side of the nearest steeple.
It thankfully isn't long before he pulls himself up onto the floor of the cave, relieved. Despite the still treacherous nature of the icy rocks the teenager managed to avoid any slips or missteps this time. Giving the place a quick look over confirms that it's an adequate size, stretching back a fair way to provide ample cover from the wind. There's enough room for them both to sleep without having to lie right next to each other. Most importantly, it is fairly dry. Obviously it isn't ideal but it'll certainly do. Testing the dampness of the rock, Connor reflects that what his companion could really use is a fire, for drying his clothes off quicker if nothing else. The very idea of the thing, in such a confined space no less, repulses him however, so even if there were some way of finding useable wood in this weather he would be loathe to try it. Still, some extra protection against the chill would be welcome. What he wouldn't give for his sleeping mat, or a blanket... But it's not like he'll have any luck finding anything like that out here in the-
The supply wagon.
Caught by the sudden burst of inspiration, the young Assassin abruptly turns and collides with the other man. Thankfully they aren't standing near the edge, or else the collision might well have sent them both back into the water. Arms quickly coming up to steady himself, latching onto Haytham's shoulders, he also manages to keep himself from getting wet by close contact. He can feel his underlying shivering, which is in reality a good thing he reminds himself. It's if the shivers stop that his companion is in real danger.
Now comes the tricky part. Well, the embarrassing, mortifying part. Refusing to meet his eyes, Connor faces the inevitable and rushes the order out as fast as he can while still making sense. 'You need to take your clothes off.'
Cocking his head to one side, giving a slight smile, Haytham makes no move to comply. 'Are you offering to help?'
Fairly sure all the blood in his body has now gone straight to his head, the teenager takes an instinctive step back as he tries to get his thoughts straight to reply. 'Yes. No. I... I am going back to the fort.'
'Back?' He frowns, crossing his arms, unimpressed by this announcement. 'Whatever for?'
Still slightly wrong-footed, his response is blunt and to the point as he adopts a similarly defensive posture. This shouldn't be such a surprising decision all things considered. 'Blankets.'
'Connor...'
'Do you wish to freeze to death?' The Assassin snaps, opting for directness because really this is all wasting time.
'Of course not, but-'
'You are going to need protection against the cold and I know exactly where their fresh supplies are. It will not take me long.' Dismissing any further argument he hands over the map for safe-keeping and walks away, retreating to the edge ready to get the climb over with. Of course he doesn't relish the idea but he knows that really needs to be done. This should make keeping his companion warm and alive significantly easier after all.
A noise of frustration definitely follows his departure, but to his relief there is no sign of him making any serious move to follow. Hopefully the man isn't so stubborn as to ignore his main instruction, although he does rather doubt it all things considered. Taking a different, more direct route up the novice is still plagued by a multitude of slippery grips and icy footholds. It's an unfortunate knowledge to know that he's going to have to do it all over again on his return. On reaching the crest Connor finds himself on what is a fairly sized stretch of excess land that sits between the high wall and the abrupt drop. From where he stands he can make out clear routes to either of the cannon posts, one of which would be the obvious choice, but he also notices that a tall tree somehow clinging to life in its marooned position has a number of thick branches that overhang the defences. Without a partner to worry about he is, after all, quite free to exploit his full arsenal of skills.
Around him the air is still thick with snow, the storm showing no signs of abating any time soon. If anything it only seems to be intensifying. The tree could certainly be both the fastest and easiest way back in, and speed is his priority at present. Besides, he feels safe in assuming that the low visibility will prevent any guards from noticing him too quickly, even if they do feel like glancing in that unlikely direction. Decidedly not thinking about the reason he's doing this, the Assassin shimmies himself up the trunk and onto the lowest load-bearing branch. Swinging to the next limb he fast rises to a level equal with the tough wooden walls, unconcerned by the cumbersome spikes that top them. As he settles into a secure crouch he focuses his vision, shifting through the fogged view to pick out a few bright patches of red below. This shouldn't be too complicated.
From his branch vantage-point he can jump to the rooftop of a hut, seemingly empty, and from there he should only have to dodge one lone patrolman to sneak around the main cluster of buildings. Beyond those the wagon still sits, unmoved, unattended and hopefully untouched. The supplies were arranged quite neatly in its back so once he gets to the vehicle finding what he's after should be a simple enough job. Getting back out again shouldn't pose too much of a problem, given the various escape routes he already has mapped out. Only a handful of easily avoidable redcoats are wandering the grounds, all on predictable routes by the look of it. Easy. He could be in and out within a couple of minutes.
What he doesn't count on, however, is the black ice. Landing on the roof on all fours as he does, he isn't quite as badly thrown as he could have been when one leg slips completely out from under him. His ankle twists awkwardly, sending a spike of pain up his spine. Scrabbling for purchase on the icy roof he only just manages to save himself from falling off it entirely, hoping that there isn't anyone below who can hear him. So much for the easy mission. Laying as flat and low as possible, Connor waits several moments, listening for any sign of movement beneath, before he dares move another muscle. Coast apparently clear he slides himself over the side, dropping into a small bank of snow and instantly feeling that same leg jar. Testing it gingerly he determines that the injury is only a sprain, nothing more, and it is mostly capable of taking its share of weight without automatically buckling. So long as he grits his teeth he won't be slowed up all that much.
Limping at top speed he covers the ground to the first clump of grasses easily enough, rolling into it to narrowly avoid being sighted by the guard wandering past on his way up the various steps of Necessity's tiers. Clear, the novice moves on, picking his way through the shadows, avoiding the patches of light thrown out from the windows of the buildings. Vaulting a fence, stumbling on landing, he finds himself in the cover of another strip of vegetation and pushes on, cursing his foot all the while. Just up ahead, nestled close beside a pine tree, is the wagon. This time he eases himself into the cart's back rather more gently, adjusting his eyes for a moment and then beginning his search. Rooting around he probably discovers half the items given in the overheard inventory before he locates what he is really looking for. Thankfully whoever sent the supplies was generous, as there is a decent selection of large, thick blankets on offer. To be safe he takes a couple, sure they won't be missed, as he wouldn't be opposed to having one of his own. However he has a feeling that there is going to be more mention of sharing heat before the day is done.
Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [9.5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-20 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)'So, you heard a noise, you say?'
'Yes, sir. I heard something that wasn't right, that's why I went investigating.' Ah, the former guard of the command tent by the sounds of it, trying to justify his actions to his superior.
'Only to find nothing.' George sighs, clearly wearied by this apparent show of incompetence. 'You were tired Jones, your ears were playing tricks on you.'
Already having come to a similar conclusion, to his own dismay, Jones only worsens his cause as he asks; 'But the map-'
Cutting him off, the aide-de-camp promptly silences any speculation on the matter. 'No doubt carried away by the wind while you were busy chasing spectres in the snow. General Braddock will not be pleased to hear of this...'
'He'll have my head for this!' Panic is evident in his voice, the Assassin fairly sure that he means it in a very literal manner.
'Indeed he might. Great harm could be done by that document should it fall into the hands of our enemies.' Here he pauses, their footsteps also halting as he considers his next words. 'In all likelihood it has been carried into the sea and destroyed. Nevertheless, you are going to search the grounds thoroughly before you turn in for the night, is that clear?'
'Yessir, thank you sir.' Audibly grateful, Jones beats a hasty retreat before the officer can begin to change his mind.
After a few seconds George also moves on, presumably heading in the direction of his own quarters. Letting out a breath that he didn't realise he was holding in the novice is reassured. They really do seem to have accepted the loss of the tactical map as a mere unfortunate accident, and there is no suggestion that anyone is any the wiser about their presence here. Perfect. Now, so long as he manages to evade detection on his way out this will have been a day of relative success. Ignoring his sprained ankle and Haytham's plunge in the ocean, of course. In fact, the more he thinks about it, the happier he is that Braddock wasn't here today. To have a potentially useful individual murdered without consulting the mentor first would have been a bad idea after all.
Retracing his earlier steps he creeps back up the wooden staircase towards the northern cannon post, alert and on the watch for the least hint of red in his line of sight. Aside from that same sentry up in the watchtower, still looking completely the wrong way, there is no sign of anyone else as he limps along the beaten path. On passing the abandoned command tent he steals a quick glance inside, observing the way it has been turned almost upside down in a search for the missing document. Presumably by a frantic Jones. They most likely have another copy somewhere else anyway, or more than one even, so he doubts that the loss will impact the British forces too greatly.
Without any further trouble he slips over the low wall for a second time, careful to choose the side that offers the more substantial ledge on which to balance, and relaxes. If he never sees the inside of another fort again it will be too soon. His feelings regarding the cliff-face are equally negative as he lowers himself down to begin this second descent. It isn't long before something of a problem makes itself known, as every time he tries to put too much weight on his sprained ankle it simply buckles and nearly sends him plunging into the waves below. Much to his continued frustration. Climbing becomes far more difficult when one only has three fully functional limbs. Had it been one of his wrists that had been damaged however he probably wouldn't have managed to get back to the cave at all.
His hands are distinctly wet and sore when he finally lets himself slip that last bit of the way to the opening, worn out. Naturally Haytham is right there waiting for him, still mostly dressed and fully armed, and still shivering, thankfully. When he takes hold of his upper arms in order to help steady him the Assassin accepts the support without objection. Within a short space of time he has become alarmingly used to letting this man touch him familiarly. Any meditation on that is cut short as he attempts to take a step, his ankle giving out dramatically and making him grateful for the grip that tightens to keep him from staggering over.
Narrowing his eyes, the Templar keeps a firm hold and carefully steers him further into the shelter. 'What happened?'
'Nothing. There was some ice, I had a fall, it is fine.' Waving it off, or at least trying to, the Assassin is really more concerned with the low temperature of his companion. Still annoyed with himself and knowing that there isn't really the time for delicacy he orders; 'Clothes, off, now.'
Even though they've already been through this once the man still arches an eyebrow at the demand. As if it isn't common sense to get out of wet clothing. 'Good to know you're as keen as ever.'
'I have no desire to see.' Able to mostly suppress his resurgent embarrassment Connor blushes, indignant, as he shrugs out of his companion's grip. None too ceremoniously handing over a blanket, narrowly resisting the temptation to throw it, he promptly crosses his arms and turns his back expectantly. 'You can cover yourself with that when you are done.'
Once again the young Assassin finds himself obliged to fix his eyes on an uninspiring strip of wall, trying to pretend that he doesn't have his ears or mind trained on what is going on behind him. No sir, he really is engrossed by this particular pattern of grey on grey. He isn't paying the least bit of attention to the grandmaster, or how long it seems to be taking him to fully divest himself of his remaining wet clothes. Not at all. In fact he doesn't notice that the sounds of undressing have ceased, or that there is a long moment of silence before Haytham loudly clears his throat.
'Are you intending to stare at that wall all night?'
Almost turning around instinctively, the novice catches himself and instead tries to get a look from the corner of his eyes, to be safe. Naturally he is unable to see his companion at all that way, much less ascertain what state of undress he is in. Nevertheless determined keep his vision averted Connor shifts lightly and addresses him over his shoulder. 'You should sit, it will help your body conserve heat.'
Sighing, Haytham pads over on bare feet so that he is right behind him. 'You should sit, standing around like this will do that sprain no good. Besides, it would benefit us both to share what warmth we have in this weather.'
Knowing that he is essentially stuck between a rock and a hard place now, Connor gives in and turns, before he is inevitably made to turn around. He has already lost this discussion anyway. On reflex, and reflex alone, he immediately looks the man up and down. It is probably safe to say that he's unarmed. Most of his body is still covered up, thankfully, by the blanket which he now has wrapped around himself. Without his clothes he seems almost more relaxed, less threatening. His hair is even loose, a change that is very much appreciated.
He is staring, just a little, and is having significant trouble putting words together for what feels like several long agonising moments. But then, somehow, the novice manages to pull a small smile and speak firmly. 'Just to share heat.'
'Of course.' Haytham's expression says otherwise, but even so the Assassin doesn't back off as he probably should.
Tearing himself away, sensing that if he doesn't then they aren't going to be moving any time soon, Connor retreats to the back of the cave. Conscious that he is being watched again he does his best to keep the limp in his step to a minimum, but even so he can't entirely conceal it. His ankle almost feels as if it is getting worse, which does not bode well in the least. Still, he ignores it as he unties the second blanket and spreads it out on the floor. Lowering himself to the ground as dignifiedly as possible, the novice makes sure that he sits as close to its edge as he can, so as to still be insulated from the chilled stone but not to have his companion on top of him. Because he doesn't want that, not at all. This is an arrangement of convenience purely for the sake of warmth, he tells himself, nothing more, just like last night.
To keep himself distracted he concentrates on slinging off his bow and quiver with exaggerated care, having no obvious safe patch of unassuming rock to stare at instead. It should make him feel better to know that his own weapons remain closer at hand than the Templar's, which he can now see neatly laid out along with the various discarded garments. Those should dry out well enough overnight, being far enough back to be protected from any snow or spray of the sea. Hopefully any threat of exposure is more or less past now. Another save in Connor's favour. Nevertheless he still hesitates when he comes to setting aside his knife, some wiser part of him remembering just who it is he is sitting next to.
Then it is taken out of his hand, carefully extracted and put out of reach. The motion is not violent or threatening, even as Haytham regards him intently. 'You recall your earlier words regarding trust?'
Frozen, certain that he already knows where this is going but not quite sure how he feels about that, the teenager slowly nods.
'Have I not proven myself trustworthy?' He edges closer, the answer clearly important to him.
'Yes. But... it is not so simple.' Torn, unable to meet the Templar's eyes he chooses to look down at his hands instead. Which are doubtless loudly telegraphing his nerves, fidgeting furiously as they are.
Not to be ignored, his companion wraps a hand around them, gently stilling the motion. With his other he tilts the teenager's chin up. 'Why not?'
Honestly, at this moment, Connor is very tempted to tell him exactly why not. Even though he knows it could easily mean his death he feels a compulsion to tell the forbidden truth. It is an immensely unwise impulse, presumably the result of all this proximity and the false sense of security he has already been lulled into. Yet what ultimately holds his tongue stems from the same source, a fear not of jeopardising the mission but of putting an end to whatever this is that is between them. Curiosity killed the cat, as Tom often told him, although he had never entirely understood quite what cat he was talking about. Or what cats had to do with anything really.
Unable to offer a satisfactory answer, even to himself, the novice doesn't resist when Haytham kisses him. As if seeking to reassure him the touch is cautious, slow, gentle, undemanding. All hesitations swiftly start to melt away again, hands coming up to curl around the man's shoulders as he relaxes into the contact and responds. He allows his mouth to be coaxed open, deepening and drawing the kiss out in an unhurried exploration. There is no need to rush, or to stop really, now that he's started. Once the need for air begins to assert itself it is Haytham who pulls away.
'See,' he breathes, 'simple.'
Oh how he wishes it really was. Still, so long as he holds onto himself, stays focused on his real reason for being here, the Assassin will be fine. He can keep his burgeoning conflicted and confused feelings for the grandmaster under control, he knows what he is getting into, he tells himself. What he has to do is keep the Templar distracted, find out as much as he can while keeping him from doing any serious damage. Protecting the Brotherhood is the important thing, that is what he is doing here.
'Still cold?' Focusing back on the present and the most important matter at hand, his companion's health, he tries to ignore the conflict in his thoughts.
'Hmm, rather.' While his shivering seems to have subsided and his skin does not feel nearly so devoid of heat now one can never be too careful in these situations.
Not pausing to consider things too carefully, because if he does then he will surely change his mind, Connor sits back, averts his eyes and removes his top. Immediately the cold air hits him, having apparently dropped several degrees in an instant. He is very rapidly coming to regret the decision, all too aware of the fact that he is now half-naked in front of the other man. Last night at least he had remained decent, both of them had, even if he had ended up sleeping in his companion's arms. But now...
Starting to shiver himself, he crosses his arms and manages to keep his voice from wavering too much. 'Heat passes best from skin to skin.'
Thankfully sensing his hesitation, Haytham runs a reassuring hand up and down one arm, not yet touching anywhere he hasn't already been allowed. Self-conscious though he is, the teenager is well aware that the longer he leaves this the worse it will get. Still, at least he's not completely naked. Which, of course, the Templar basically is. And that thought only makes him uncertain all over again. Thus he is really quite relieved when the other man acts for him, pulling him right in and folding the blanket back around them both. Strange as this particular situation is for him, Connor instinctively feels safe here in his arms.
He certainly doesn't feel particularly cold anymore, and as his hands drift tentatively up the skin of his companion's back it seems he's not the only one. That's good, the threat has passed. Head resting gently against the man's collarbone, Connor still keeps his eyes averted as he softly asks; 'Better?'
'Vastly.'
What light penetrates the cave is swiftly fading away, night is falling. Tomorrow they will have to plan their next move but it will be months before the prime opportunity to strike arises. Haytham will inevitably have to return to Boston and the other Templars, while Connor needs to report back to the Brotherhood. But for now he can forget about everything other than this, the comfort of being curled up with the other man. Right now this is all that matters and, for the time being at least, it really is simple.
Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [9.5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-21 04:12 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [9.5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-21 09:48 am (UTC)(link)And we are so very grateful for that, anon. There are too many good fills being abandoned, it's reassuring to know this one won't share the same fate.
I don't even want to imagine how Haytham must have felt - physically, I mean. I feel bad for him, haha. But at least Connor's there to offer assistance, eh? This whole scene was nerve-racking, but so very realistic - you have a wonderful way of creating an atmosphere where one thinks he's found himself playing a game with this scenario. At times, I truly feel like I'm in the midst of it all, playing the game myself. Keep up the awesome work, anon, we're very grateful and hope your Muses will call on you soon.
Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [9.5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-05-02 08:19 am (UTC)(link)I love how you write them, and poor Connor, having to justifying his actions as 'keeping the Templar distracted' :D