asscreedkinkmeme (
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
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Part 4
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It's For Life (Part 13)
(Anonymous) 2013-04-29 04:32 am (UTC)(link)He had thrashed around during the night and somehow rolled to the cold ground (which he was partly thankful for, considering how warm he felt). The blanket had been discarded to the side and the pillows were everywhere. His skin burned. It was nothing like he had remembered. It had been bad then, but this was something else. He was feverish, that much was obvious. He pressed his heated cheek against the ground in an attempt to cool himself, but it wasn’t enough. The robes he wore now felt too hot, too constrictive.
Of course, there was also that small nuisance between his legs as well. He pressed his groin against the cold stone, hoping it would help somehow, but it only made it worse, so he retreated. Without thinking about it, his hands moved to remove the red sash and throw it to the side, next to the blanket. He proceeded to remove his cowl and robes, also discarding them and staying only with his breeches on. Laying back down on the cold ground felt like a soft bed against his back and he hissed at the welcoming sensation. However he knew that would not be enough.
Glancing to the side he noticed the books on top of the desk he had brought to read during his stay here. He knew he wasn’t in his right state of mind to even concentrate properly on them. Such a waste of time. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. What a headache. Never again would he forget about the stupid suppressants.
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It had been a while since the sun rose in the sky and it entered through the window in a cruel manner. There were no curtains in the room, nothing Altaïr could use to protect him from it and his skin burned even more with the intensity of the sun. Noon would likely be even worse.
It must have still been relatively early in the morning when he heard a scraping noise from the other side of the door. Raising an eyebrow he took notice of the faint sound of footsteps retreating fast and disappearing entirely in the hallway and down the stairs. Gathering enough energy to get up, he moved to the door and opened it slightly. He glanced both ways and didn't see anyone, or anything, until he looked down. On his feet stood a round tray with bread, water and some herbs.
It took him a while to realize what had happened, but when he did, he took the tray inside and mentally thanked his friend for the trouble. He had hoped Malik wouldn’t actually abandon him, he never did. But he also knew what he had asked of Malik and exactly what it had implied.
While eating Altaïr thought back about his first heat. Back then he had someone help him get over it, but now... Truthfully, the only person he could think of helping him with his problem was Malik and he wasn't as disgusted at the thought as he should have been. That in itself made him worry his condition was affecting his way of thinking as well.
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Spending the rest of his time thinking about it was no use and it only made him all the more self conscious about the throbbing pain between his legs (he did consider offering it the comfort of his hand for a while, but that hadn't worked in the past and it only left him with a tired fist and a burn in his palm, something he never forgot about). Instead, he decided to ignore it as best as he could by focusing on something else. Reading was out of the way, so he turned to the Apple instead. He was bewitched by the wonders it contained. As soon as he had more time and things calmed down enough he'd have Malik trace the figures it showed. He was still considering the possibility of such a thing, but he was starting to believe it was, in fact, a map of a world greater than they knew. If it turned out to be true, he was not sure what to do with such a knowledge other than leave it for future generations to use.
This time he managed to pick up the sound of someone walking outside. At first he thought nothing of it as it was probably just a guard making his rounds. But as the silent footsteps seemed to approach his room instead, he raised his head.
Something inside him made him put the Apple aside to get up and walk towards the door. He stared at it as if he could see through it. He knew someone was there and he had a feeling he knew who it was.
Once again he heard the scraping sound of the wooden tray against the floor. The other person was going to leave soon.
“Malik?”
No footsteps. He wasn’t leaving. Altaïr bit his bottom lip. Tentatively he approached the door and touched the unrefined wood with the tip of his fingers. Slowly his head moved forward and he closed his eyes when it touched the door. He took in a deep breath and knew exactly what was happening to him. He was sure of it now, it was Malik, in more ways than one.
But still no response came from the other side, just an unbearable silence. For a moment he wondered if his right-hand man could sense it too. Yet all too soon the man spoke at last.
“If the order wasn’t in desperate need of a mentor right now, I swear I’d let you starve to death.”
Ragged voice, that annoying tone he knew Malik only made when he wanted to hide something, the sound of shuffling cloth. Too many years practicing eavesdropping made Altaïr pick up on every minucius detail about him. Or maybe he was already too clouded with lust to tell the difference, it didn't matter.
His free hand roamed through his chest and downwards. The one at the door closed in a tight fist. His thoughts quickly vanished of anything else when all he could think about was slipping his hand to the lock and opening the door for him. This is bad, it’s bad, it’s...
Footsteps walking away. Waking from his trance, Altaïr glared at the door as if he could melt it by willpower alone and wanted to yell Malik’s name, ask him to come back. They didn’t even need to be on the same space, he just wanted the reassuring feeling that his friend was there on the other side. But he managed to keep enough self-control to contain it.
He would not give Malik the satisfaction of knowing he was right.
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