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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
Entry tags:
Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
Fill Only
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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.
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✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion
FILL 11/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-01 10:57 am (UTC)(link)Oriel windows are basically bay windows which are on upper floors only. You see them a lot in Tudor architecture and Gothic churches. Incidentally, the Templar HQ is inspired by several British stately homes, especially Avon Tyrell in the New Forest. The timelines don't match but I have a huge weakness for massive, pretty houses.
...
Connor's face is flushed pink, and his hair is slightly damp. He smells of soap and scented oil and he's obviously made an effort to look good. He's wearing one of the more formal suits in his wardrobe, mostly pale blue with grey and silver accents and a stiff white shirt. His hair is loose, but he's taken the time to braid several miniscule locks of hair. He must have been looking forward to this more than Haytham had expected.
"You look rather dashing," Haytham smiles warmly. Lovingly, he hopes. "We'll be going to my quarters."
Connor nods, as if afraid he'll ruin the moment by speaking. He follows Haytham like a puppy as they traverse the mansion. Their rooms are on completely opposite ends of the Templar headquarters, and this is no accident. It takes at least five minutes to reach their destination even by the quickest route.
Connor's hand brushes against Haytham's body as they walk. He knows these 'accidental touches' are deliberate. It's rather endearing, to be honest.
When they arrive in a hallway plainer than the rest of the house, on one of the higher floors of the house, Connor looks surprised. Clearly he'd thought that Haytham's room would be one of the gaudy rooms of the Inner Circle. It would be fitting for the Grand Master of the most influential secret organisation in the Colonies, but that kind of thing isn't to Haytham's taste. He enjoys expensive clothes, certainly, but there's something comforting in modest surroundings.
He opens his door- it's going to be firmly locked when he leaves under the guise of business- and lets Connor enter first. It's one room, unlike Connor's quarters. At the far end lie a large bed, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. Closer to the door, a table weighed down with tea paraphenalia sits in front of an Oriel window. There's another bookcase, this one half-empty.
"I haven't got around to replacing the books I gave you," Haytham explains, as Connor eyes the shelf. He shuts the door and holds his companion close in a hug. Underneath the soap and the herbs is an earthy, human scent, one that fits Connor like a glove. He runs a hand from Connor's shoulderblades up through his hair.
"So," Connor begins, obviously nervous. "Are you, uh..."
"Am I what?" Haytham murmurs, planting a quick kiss on Connor's lips.
"Are you going to fuck me?" he blurts, after a few moments of hesitation.
Haytham gives a low, amused laugh, and nibbles at Connor's earlobe.
"I was rather hoping you'd fuck me," he replies. Connor tenses in either anticipation or fear, almost certainly both. "Oh, don't be so worried. I'll tell you exactly what to do."
"You trust me this much?" Connor stammers. Haytham bites back a less loving laugh. Connor's already a blushing mess, and they haven't actually done anything yet. This is going to be fun.
"Why wouldn't I?" he asks, pressing more kisses to Connor's lips without waiting for an answer. He guides them to the bed, one hand exploring Connor's body while the other starts undoing the buttons of his waistcoat. Connor understands and clumsily shucks off his jacket, trying to unbutton Haytham's clothing. Haytham drags Connor onto the bed, and pulls their shoes off.
"There ought to be some oil in one of the drawers next to the table," Haytham says, in between kisses. He starts unlacing his breeches while Connor searches as instructed. He pulls out a bottle of thick, viscous oil after a few moments of rummaging.
"Why do you have a horse whip in your dresser?" Connor asks.
"It's a memento. It belonged to Braddock." He's telling the truth, but usually the whip lives in a small chest of mementoes at the bottom of his wardrobe. He's put a lot of thought into this charade.
"Braddock?" Connor asks, brow furrowing. Haytham snatches the bottle from him and drips some oil onto his hand. It isn't technically oil, it's actually an emulsion he persuaded a chemist to make for him, the same stuff they use in brothels.
"When I was younger, a little more than twenty years ago, I fought in the Napoleonic wars against the French. I grew close to one of the other soldiers. His name was Edward Braddock."
"Oh."
"Don't 'oh' me, child. You have nothing to worry about. He's long gone."
Connor seems to realise he's treading on thin ice, so he changes the subject. He holds up his lubricated fingers.
"What do you want me to do with these?"
Haytham straddles his legs, and guides Connor's hands between his thighs, trying to keep his muscles relaxed as he gently pushes one of Connor's fingers inside him. It doesn't feel bad, merely odd.
"I forgot how strange that felt," Haytham grimaces. "Don't look so anxious, you're doing fine. I just need to get used to this."
He waits a few moments before speaking again.
"Try moving your finger around. Up and down, in circles, whatever you feel best. Our aim is to stretch, as crude as that sounds."
"What does it feel like?" Connor asks, after a minute of doing as instructed.
"Perhaps next time we can do this the other way round," Haytham replies, teasingly. He clears his throat and answers the question. "It feels strange. Not bad, not good, just strange. Unfortunately, we have to spend a lot of time on preparation. Punishment for our sins, I suppose."
"So... this would hurt? If we didn't...?"
"Done badly enough, I could die," Haytham says. "Use another finger. And more oil."
Connor obeys, obviously worried now.
"For goodness sake, don't look so anxious. I know what I'm doing," Haytham lies. He's studied textbooks and letters from invert allies and gentlemen of the night, but he's never done this before. His story about Braddock is just that- a story.
It burns, though, as Connor forces his fingers back in, slick as they are. Haytham grunts in discomfort.
"Don't move them just yet," he says. "Wait a moment."
He takes a few deep breaths, and kisses Connor again before giving a command to carry on.
"This time, try scissoring your fingers," Haytham says, holding up a hand in demonstration. "Slowly, though. Combine it with an in and out motion."
He can feel Connor's arousal beneath him. He wonders if he's going to fit, even after all their preparation. The boy might not be particularly thick, but he's certainly long. His contacts have assured him that length is a good thing in these cases, so maybe he's worrying for nothing. He certainly hopes so.
The burn is replaced by a dull ache as Connor works, and Haytham is certain that three fingers is going to hurt like hell. He doesn't really want to issue the command, but he can't back out now.
"Three," he says. "Try for three now. Go slowly, more oil."
He's right. It does hurt. He lets out a small yelp of pain.
"Are you all right?" Connor asks, pausing with his fingers almost completely in.
"Yes," Haytham says through gritted teeth. "Separate your fingers slowly. The same as last time."
Eventually, their tedious preparation is done. Haytham wishes it could have been over sooner, but he's taking no risks with his body. He's not as young as he used to be and he can't afford to be critically injured.
"Oil yourself up," Haytham commands. "We're finished with the boring part."
Connor's hands tremble as he pulls his breeches off and pours a little extra oil onto his hands. Haytham has second thoughts and an excellent poker face. He takes a deep breath before lowering himself slowly, and Connor notices his nervousness.
"Are you all right?" Connor asks, for what feels like the fifieth time.
"It's been a long time," Haytham replies, and refuses to say any more until he is fully seated. The feeling of fullness is not bad, and Connor is the perfect length to brush against his prostate with each movement. This part, at least, is better than he'd thought it would be.
"This would be easier if I were on my back," Haytham bites his lip. "I should have thought of that."
"We can move if you want," Connor offers, and without waiting for an answer holds Haytham's body tightly and changes their position. He rubs hard against Haytham's prostate as he does so, and Haytham gives an involuntary gasp.
"I'm not hurt," Haytham snaps before Connor can ask if he is all right. "It felt strange is all. Try moving in and out. Alternate slow and fast. See what feels good to you."
Connor looks guilty for a second, before obeying. Haytham hooks his legs around Connor's, and rolls his hips experimentally with each thrust. It takes a few tries before Connor finds a poisition and pace he's comfortable with. It feels good, far too good really. Haytham is sure he's going to come humiliatingly early, and he's right. A cry tears itself from his throat, and Connor looks surprised. He's barely managed four minutes, according to the clock on the mantlepiece.
"It has been a very long time," Haytham snaps as Connor stops. "Carry on."
He's not prepared for the overstimulation. Nobody mentioned what would happen after he came. The feeling is insanely intense, somewhere between pain and pleasure. It's all he can do to keep his body under some faint semblance of control. His back arches and his hips roll and he soon loses all semblance of control. His mouth makes needy, desperate noises as Connor builds up speed. Desperate for more or for an end, even Haytham isn't sure.
His legs are wrapped tightly around Connor's hips, and his fingernails are scratching and digging into his shoulderblades. His mouth is latched onto a spot on Connor's shoulder in a failing effort to stop his whimpers. He needs more and less and his mind is all but gone. He can barely think, hardly able to understand what's happening when Connor tenses and the pleasurable pain comes to a head and there's a feeling of hotness deep inside which does hurt.
When he can finally think again, Connor is trying to catch his breath, withdrawing with a sickening slick sound. His eyes feel heavy. Twice. He didn't know it was even possible to come twice. That was what had just happened, wasn't it?
"Was that all right?" Connor asks, and it takes a moment for the words to process.
"That was better than all right," Haytham replies. He manages to get his arm to move, to hold Connor's hand. He shuts his eyes, just for a moment, and doesn't mean to fall asleep. He still needs to clean himself up, after all. To shower Connor with affection and whatnot.
When he opens his eyes, it's dawn already and while he's slept like a rock, in the same position, Connor is draped over him, shifting in his sleep. Their hands are still entwined.
Haytham eyes the scratches on Connor's back. He runs a finger along some of them- a little dried blood flakes off. Just a little. He should have some strong brandy somewhere in here, and he carefully rolls Connor off him and untangles their fingers. He sits up cautiously, still aching a little, and pulls on his breeches. Half-dried semen is smeared across the sheets, and he can feel something dripping slowly down from inside him. He shudders. The feeling is less than pleasant. He pulls on his shirt.
He bites his lip and limps as quickly and quietly as he can to the tea table, where a small bottle has been carelessly left. There's a clean handkerchief on a small table near the bed, and he picks that up too.
He kneels, with difficulty, and starts cleaning out the scratches. The stinging seems to jolt Connor into semiconsciousness.
"I'm sorry for falling asleep so soon," Haytham murmurs. "I must be getting old."
"Mnuh," Connor replies, tiredly. "Nnn?"
"I have no idea what you're trying to say. I'm going to finish cleaning your wounds and then I'm going to have a bath and order new sheets."
This time Connor manages something that almost sounds like "what am I going to do?"
"Get dressed. Meet me in the drawing room. We'll have an early breakfast. There's also some business I must discuss with you."
With that, he puts the alcohol down, kisses Connor, and limps out.
Re: FILL 11/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-01 11:56 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL 11/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-01 06:44 pm (UTC)(link)Haytham, you sneaky bastard!
I have a fear of what might happen to Connor next, so chewing nails continuously while pressing f5!
Re: FILL 11/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-01 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)Eagerly awaiting the next chapter (and bracing for some bad shit.)
Re: FILL 11/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-02 03:04 pm (UTC)(link)That was not...what I had in mind, BUT DAMN WAS IT HOT AND AWESOME AND I'VE CRAVED BOTTOM!HAYTHAM FOREVER AND THAT WAS BETTER THAN ANYTHING I'VE IMAGINED AND PLEASE, WONDERFUL ANON, DON'T STOP!
Re: FILL 11/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-02 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT >_< asdkljhfg
Re: FILL 11/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-02 03:50 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL 11/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-02 07:43 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL 11/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-02 07:56 pm (UTC)(link)Connor's mental, emotional and physical health on the other hand...