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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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Discussion
our lives together are a work in progress [3/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-05-17 12:34 pm (UTC)(link)----
VIII.
Their conversation this time is civil if nothing else; Altair doesn't test Malik's patience, and Malik doesn't pounce upon every opportunity to cast blame down upon the man's head. Malik has heard about his next target, yes-- Majd Addin has been making a nuisance of himself about the city, according to his informants, who've been scurrying about like mice, trying to keep their heads down.
Malik chews the inside of his cheek as Altair leaves for the locations he's recommended. At least there'd been no inkpots wasted today--Altair had been brash, but not... intolerable. He'd even asked for his advice, an interesting development that he'd not been expecting.
He catches himself woolgathering a second later, and shakes himself with a snarl; now is not (and never will be!) the time to speculate upon the exasperating Ibn-La'Ahad--if he does his job as any other Assassin would, then fantastic! Nothing more nor less was expected of him.
VIV.
Altair had intended to return to the Bureau with nothing more than the information that he'd gained to give to Malik, but as he threads through the masses in the marketplace, the fragrant scent of dates arrests him, draws him back to a bustling fruit stall.
He contemplates the fruit for a moment before giving in and buying a small bag, popping a few into his mouth before he even reaches a clear-enough alley to climb to the roofs; sweetness and juice fill his mouth, and he eats another three before he drops into the Bureau.
"Safety and peace, brother."
"Were it that the city were possessed of either. What news then, novice?" Then Malik pauses, eyes narrowing at the bag in Altair's hand.
Altair swallows hastily, protesting: "I am not a novice!" and the look that Malik shoots back at him is as dry as the desert and just as merciless.
Altair refuses to back down in acknowledgement of the point that's been scored, instead approaching the counter. Malik pulls out a ledger in response, careful to not smudge the lines of the map he'd been drawing before Altair's arrival, and writes within as he reports what information Altair tells him, the bag of dates relocated out of the way of both of them on the counter.
"Do not allow your impulsiveness to cloud your judgement in this mission; a brother's life hangs in the balance. Al Mualim wishes for him to be saved, and saved he will be if my men have anything to say about it--just do not allow him to be killed!"
Altair resists the urge to scoff, instead replying, "He will not; I will not give Majd the chance to steal his life."
"One hopes so," Malik answers, voice dry once again. "Here. Take your feather and begone."
Altair nods, then tilts his head toward the bag of dates, already stepping out of reach. "Eat those. It's been too long since your last meal, I can smell it, and they'll go to waste if you don't--I can hardly snack while on a mission, no?" He grins and deftly sidesteps the throwing knife that flies at him, scampering out and through the lattice before Malik has the chance to throw another; he stands behind the counter and fumes silently for a moment before stalking out to retrieve his blade, mentally cursing Altair. Thrice damned nosy alphas and their instinctive desire to care for his sex! The stupid man should tend to his own business first before meddling in his.
He still manages to eat half the bag as he finishes his map before his mind catches up to his actions; he nearly throws what's left of the fruit at the next Assassin to come in, telling her to dispose of it in whatever manner she sees fit, before taking a break to prepare his own midday meal.
Re: our lives together are a work in progress [3/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-06-03 06:20 am (UTC)(link)our lives together are a work in progress [4/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-06-10 12:12 pm (UTC)(link)---
X.
Altair's return is quiet, the other man evidently doing his best to not rouse Malik's temper once again; apparently there's some sense of self-preservation in his head, and he's realized that trying the Dai's patience after his display earlier would likely end with literal bloodshed. Recording Altair's kill and taking his bloodied feather, Malik's brusque offer of shelter and supplies, is the extent of their conversation, and Altair disappears afterwards through the lattice again, likely to cause more mischief on his own time before the sun sets.
Malik smells the blood and tenses before he processes the footsteps coming closer, whips his head upright as additional scents come to him as the distance between what's bleeding and the Bureau closes (he hadn't heard bells for ages; there were some half an hour ago, but they'd stopped quickly), and his eyes widen as the person registers, the Dai bolting out from behind his counter to the lattice as a bruised and bloodied Altair drops down into shelter with a groan and thump.
His legs buckle underneath him as he lands, sending him onto the floor, and the smell of iron is mixed with the markers for stress, exhilaration, satisfaction, pain, and Malik lays his hand on him before he really registers the action, attempting to soothe the spikes, before his mind catches up and he turns the action into examining Altair, trying to find his wounds.
"What happened," he snaps; the Assassin is bleeding from a gash on his upper arm, his temple, an arrow affixed in his side, which is the source of most of the blood, and Malik drags him closer to the fountain so he can start cleaning up the blood, mind already cataloging what he'll need, judging how serious the arrow wound is from the way Altair is clutching at it.
"There was a girl--"
"And what; did you get so addled by her scent that you lost basic reason?"
Altair growls, actually growls at him, low and throaty and threatening, and Malik can't help the shiver and stiffening of his spine at it; he tosses a scowl back at him for doing so before fetching bandages and rags, needle and thread. "She was being harassed by guards, Malik; I couldn't leave her--even betas don't deserve that sort of treatment."
Malik blinks, then blinks again, staring down at Altair for one surprised heartbeat as he processes the man's words; a beta? Only a beta, and a civilian at that? Why would Altair rescue a civilian that had nothing to do with his mission, be willing to risk injury for the sake of a stranger?
He shakes his head and kneels instead, snaps, "Relax" at Altair, else removing the arrow would be more painful that it will be already, and gets to work, hand moving automatically even as his mind races.
XI.
By the time Malik is done patching Altair up, night has fallen and two other Assassins are waiting to report on information from their respective missions; the Dai leaves Altair where he lies, deciding to not comment on the way the man is obviously clinging to consciousness in the wake of receding adrenaline and pain, and gestures both waiting into the inner room, where he records what they have to say.
They disappear soon afterwards, citing a previous engagement and a need to return to Masyaf quickly, and leave via the lattice; Malik closes and locks it after them with a sigh of relief before turning his attention back to the lightly-dozing Altair.
Then he shakes his head and goes to make a small dinner.
Malik prods Altair awake with his foot, enough food for the both of them balanced on a tray in his hand, and Altair snaps awake with a snarl, lashing out; Malik skips back easily, expecting the response, and steps closer again once the alpha winces and settles back at the pull of the stitches in his side, glaring up at Malik balefully.
"What."
In response, Malik kicks a cushion to him and seats himself upon it, setting the tray down between them; he gestures at the bread, olive oil, watered wine, figs, upon it, and Altair grunts almost apologetically and reaches over.
"No dates?"
"Do not test your luck, idiot."
Altair eats little and drinks even less, and gingerly rolls over to sleep afterwards; unfazed, Malik finishes his meal before standing and gathering the tray.
"Stay for a few days," he orders, "You're in no condition to ride back to Masyaf like that."
Altair's only response is to grunt, and Malik resists the childish urge to roll his eyes before retreating to his bedroom to sleep.
XII.
It's good that Altair follows his advice for once and stays at the Bureau; he has a fever by noon of the following day, and spends his time in irritable, broken sleep with a dampened cloth draped over his face. The fever is not serious (Altair has had worse at Masyaf, in the course of training--and Malik has to bite back memories and snarls at thinking of the past, pushes it firmly out of his head to be dealt with later), but it leaves the alpha testy, filling the front room with the scent of it and sickness, which in turn makes (Malik) the brothers and sisters that visit twitchy. No-one wants to cross an alpha that is giving off such strong signals, and, as the sun inches past its apex, Malik gives up and decides to risk Altair's temper, storming over and getting his shoulder underneath the alpha's chest.
Altair grunts in discomfort at the contact, then growls at Malik; he snarls back, which apparently startles Altair into a few moments of silence, during which the Dai says, "You're a nuisance even unconscious; I'm moving you into the back room."
Altair finds his feet in response, and Malik takes it as agreement.
He settles the alpha on one of the beds in a back room, helps Altair reachieve horizontal, checks his bandages, and goes back out into the front room for Altair's weapon belts and boots, which he brings back and dumps near the man; Malik touches him on the shoulder before he goes back outside, taking a moment to scent the air for undue stress.
Nothing; if anything, the amount that's there is lower than what he would have expected. That suits the Dai just fine, and he leaves Altair to sleep with a sense of satisfaction.
XIII.
Of course, the situation is a little different that night; Malik wakes up from his sleep at a solid thump that he hears even through the wall. Instinctively, he knows it's Altair, and he bolts out of bed and down the hall before he can think about it, pausing at the entrance to the infirmary as he assesses the situation.
Altair has managed to roll out of the bed in his fever-sleep, dragging all the blankets off of the bed with him and curling up on the cool stone floor; bright, slightly-glazed gold eyes stare balefully up at him from the mass of cloth, and Malik resists the urge to curse.
Instead, he goes to fetch water and comes back to the same sight.
"Altair," he tries, and gets nothing for his effort but a growl in response, an alpha sound warning unknowns away; Malik scoffs at it, because Altair's current condition hardly matches up with the threat implied in the noise. He steps closer, and the growl increases in volume before cutting off abruptly; Altair shifts, twitching as a movement evidently aggravates his wounds, leaning closer to Malik.
"Yes, it's me, you ass." Malik sighs, contemplates for a moment the futility of talking at Altair in the condition he's in, and steps closer instead, settling on the floor and holding out the cup of water he's holding towards him. "Drink."
Altair stares at it for a moment, then turns his attention back to Malik; the Dai grits his teeth as the Assassin leans even closer, threatening to topple over, and grudgingly moves closer so Altair doesn't fall onto his face. The alpha emits a pleased sort of rumbling noise at that, moving closer as well, more suddenly than he had, and Malik has to focus on not spilling the water as Altair practically looms over him, before leaning heavily on him and burying his face firmly in the crook of his neck.
Malik freezes. Resists the urge to bolt, because that would spill the water and dump Altair on his face and bruise his nose if nothing else (as appealing as the idea sounds), but the man's (more) out of his mind at the moment and Malik himself is possibly a bit half-asleep as well, because that's the only explanation he has for allowing Altair to stay there.
In fact, after a few heartbeats, all Malik can think to say is, "If you bite, I am punching you in the face, injuries or not. Drink the water," and Altair makes a grumbling noise of assent and annoyance, breath huffing out hot against the bare skin of Malik's neck and chest, before sitting up enough to take a few sips out of the cup and resettling himself where he'd been with an air of grumpiness.
"You are such a child," Malik hisses at him, prods him sharply in the ribs, which gets him another few sips of water and an annoyed growl, and keeps at it until the cup is empty. Stupid stubborn alphas, and Altair the most foolish and stubborn of them all.
"I'm not staying," he says after he's set the cup aside, and in response Altair leans on him with all his weight, and flaps up one arm to drape around Malik's neck, and the omega takes a few moments to catalogue all the ways he could leave Altair in extreme pain in retaliation against his familiarity before giving the entire thing up as a bad job and lying down in the mess of blankets Altair's created.
Altair presses against him, bare chest to bare chest, and snuffles contentedly at his neck, nosing at the curve of his ear and the corner of his jaw before settling; Malik reiterates his previous warning about physical violence in case of teeth, and Altair has the audacity to laugh at it before mumbling "thank you" to him and promptly dropping back off into sleep.
Malik stays awake, turning the words over in his head until Altair's fever breaks, before closing his eyes as well.
our lives together are a work in progress [5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-06-13 02:59 pm (UTC)(link)Thankfully, he wakes before Altair does the following morning, both of them in much the same position they'd both fallen asleep in, and Malik groans underneath his breath and shoves Altair off of him to get up, wriggling out from underneath him.
He smells like Altair now, both their scents mingling and smeared over him, and (despite how comforting it is to that part of his mind that's affected by hormone cycles, nesting, and all the instincts involved with omegas, to have that physical claim over him) he decides his first order of business this morning is a bath.
It'll have to be cold, more of a scrubdown by the fountain than anything else, because Malik has slept in and has to open the lattice soon, but the weather today is warm enough that it will not be such a hardship.
He strips out of his sleeping pants, sits on the edge of the fountain, runs a damp cloth over his skin, paying especial attention to his neck, the crease of his groin where legs meet abdomen, areas where the scent glands are located, washes himself down from head to toe before pouring more water over himself to rinse, listening to it sluice into the grated drain below his feet, before standing again.
The loss of the alpha scent clinging to him kicks him in the gut like a blow, and Malik has to sit again on the fountain edge as he staggers, swallowing hard.
He has never been marked by an alpha: first concerned with the care of his brother and training at Masyaf, then the mission, the loss of his arm, the loss of Kadar, and being shunted off to Jerusalem, tucked into the company of scholars by the virtue of the loss of the full measure of his fighting abilities, abilities that he'd rightfully earned despite his omega nature, and determined to be just as useful as he was now out of a sense of pride and spite, had occupied all his attention. He'd had no time for alphas or even betas, no inclination to be marked so, ignored the ebb and flux of his cycles with the same control that he'd used to master his body for combat, and--
And--
The memory of Altair as a heavy weight atop him, the huff of breath against his neck, skin against his, and their scents mingling with that of sweat, Altair's growls, the tone and depth, sends a shiver down Malik's spine, pools heat between his hips as he shifts where he sits, and with a sudden burst of mortification, he realizes he's getting wet.
Cursing underneath his breath, he resists the urge to lift and spread his legs, press into himself to chase some of the pleasure that an alpha's cock would give him, and instead picks up the cloth he'd used to wash himself, dipping it back into the cold water of the fountain and wiping himself down, attempting to think about anything else--cataloging old scrolls, mucking out the stables at Masyaf, dealing with guards at the marketplace--to calm his body.
One long breath and then another, and Malik allows himself to relax, rubs his forehead with the back of his hand before standing.
It's an unexpected obstacle, but one that he can overcome when compared to everything else he's done.
XV.
Altair shuffles out into the inner room sometime in the middle of the morning with a blanket draped over his shoulders, peering blearily out at Malik where he stands behind the counter; Malik raises an eyebrow at him in response, and Altair continues to stare before smirking at him, which makes the omega blush even as he wonders why he's doing so. The fleeting thought, wondering if Altair can smell this morning, his small slip in control, crosses his mind, which does nothing for his blush.
"What," Malik says, and Altair shrugs a shoulder, then shuffles closer, shifts the blanket, and leans into his space; Malik resists the urge to lean in the opposite direction, pushes at Altair's face instead, grumbles, "That's hardly an answer."
"Huh. Thought I was dreaming," Altair responds. Malik feels the air of his answer on his fingers, and scowls.
"That is also not an answer."
Altair hums a single noise of affirmation, then replies, "Thank you for staying with me" as he ducks out of Malik's reach. "I will ride to Masyaf."
"Now?"
"As soon as possible." He pauses in the doorway, as though contemplating saying something else, before shaking his head and ducking back into the infirmary.
Malik, left by the counter, is for once speechless.
XVI.
He disappears through the lattice barely half an hour later, and Malik stares at his hand, fingers wrapped around the quill, for long minutes afterwards.
He tells himself over and over that he was merely fulfilling his duty, that the offer of succor and treatment would have been extended to anyone of the Order, that he would have stayed up, cared for anyone who'd dropped, injured, into his Bureau.
He tells himself this, and yet cannot believe it, knows with a sinking feeling that he has allowed Altair... liberties that he would not have extended to anyone else.
Malik sighs and finishes the line that he was writing in this ledger, sets the quill aside, and runs his hand over his face.
He hates Altair, for the foolishness and arrogance that killed his brother and cost him his arm, his future in the Order, but even that doesn't ring true anymore; he hates the man Altair had been, the Altair that would not listen to the advice of others, that wouldn't have saved an unimportant civilian beta female, who wouldn't have brought dates back to the Bureau for him on a whim, who wouldn't have thanked him for showing him kindness.
Malik realizes with mild astonishment that the resentment that he thought he carried for Altair didn't run as deeply as he thought it had. Altair-as-he-had-been was no longer the Altair-of-now, the alpha he'd allowed close enough to touch, and it stunned the mind that these few months had been enough to change him so--unless he truly did wish to repent.
The thought itself, of proud Altair repenting, makes Malik shake his head. It seems as though no matter what Altair does, his actions are enough to send his mind scrambling to follow, caught uncomfortably between what had been and what he was now.
It's something that he'll have to think on later; Altair will not return to Jerusalem so soon.
--
depending on how rl events pan out, updates on this might be delayed/sporadic for a bit, but author!anon has no intent of abandoning this, so hold tight!
Re: our lives together are a work in progress [5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-07-09 04:27 am (UTC)(link)Re: our lives together are a work in progress [5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-07-20 03:29 pm (UTC)(link)Re: our lives together are a work in progress [5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-09-12 06:01 pm (UTC)(link)for any of those still around and reading, i've archived and will continue to update the fic at:
http://archiveofourown.org/works/964447/chapters/1891214
i'll also post links back here when i update chapters! thanks for your patience!