Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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our lives together are a work in progress [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

XIV.

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)]

Another random anon here to say that this story is amazing and I really hope you continue it! :)

Re: our lives together are a work in progress [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Another random anon, too. Amazing authot!anon. Amazing. I adore AltMal, this is wonderful.

Re: our lives together are a work in progress [5/?]

[(Anonymous)]

omg thank you passerby anons!

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!