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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
FILL 31/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-10 05:01 pm (UTC)(link)"You should take those deeds to your village," Haytham says, when he regains control. He rubs his eyes, and wipes away any remaining dampness and salty trails. He tilts his head up, and the air feels far too cold on his face.
"I was hoping you might come with me," Connor replies. "You could meet the people I grew up with. The people I fight for."
"That wouldn't work."
"Why?"
Haytham nearly starts laughing. God, how naive is the boy?
"Who exactly do you think they believe is your father?"
Connor's hopeful expression falls.
"She lied," he murmurs, desperately. "I can tell them..."
"No," Haytham says, firmly. "Anyway, I have business to attend to. I can't take a week off to go gallivanting around the wilderness with you, as much as I would like to."
Connor is silent for a long moment, and Haytham wonders if he's being too harsh.
"Do you still love me?" Connor finally asks, quietly. His voice has just a hint of a tremor in it, and Haytham curses himself.
"Of course," Haytham says, reassuringly. He isn't entirely sure what he wants to do, in light of recent revelations, except that he definitely does not want to upset Connor. Unfortunately, it may be a little late to avoid doing just that.
"Then perhaps you ought to act like it," Connor says, coldly. He stops crouching, drawing himself up to his full height, and storms off, in the direction of the mansion. Haytham watches him stride away, and wonders how the hell he can possibly take advantage of this mess he has found himself in.
...
He catches Thomas just as he is about to set off for Jamestown, to help some of the Assassins sabotage Pitcairn's ships. Pitcairn himself needs to be seen as loyal to the Crown, though he is carefully making small, calculated, bad decisions that will go unnoticed.
"Thomas," he says.
Connor may no longer be an Assassin, but he would be best used as a Templar agent. He needs to manipulate the Assassins into distrusting Connor at worst, outright hostility toward him at best.
"'Ello, Boss," Thomas says, checking the saddle on his horse.
"While you're with the Assassins, I need you to drop hints to them about the relationship between Connor and I," he says. The boy s busy sparring with minor members of the Order, presumably to work away some of his anger. There is no danger of his eavesdropping on their conversation.
"'Ints? About what relationship? The blood one or the, er..." Thomas winks, and gives Haytham a leer that makes him want to strangle him. "...The other one?"
"Oh, joy. Charles told you," Haytham scowls. "The other one, you fool. If you so much as think about telling anybody about the blood relation, I will know and I will skin you alive. Especially if that person is Connor."
"'Ey, Boss, no need t' get snappy," Thomas holds his hands up placatingly, looking a little bit afraid, to Haytham's pleasure. "I was only 'avin' a bit of a joke. Won't 'appen again. Good o' the Order, right?"
"Right," Haytham snarls. "Be on your way. Now."
"Yes, sir," Thomas says, and mounts the horse.
...
"I haven't been a very nice person lately," Haytham says, softly. He closes his bedroom door behind him, and pads to the table near the window, where Connor is sitting with a steaming pot of tea and lots of scattered papers. "I'm sorry for that."
Connor doesn't say anything, so Haytham continues. As much as he hates to admit it, he does feel guilty for upsetting Connor so much, and does want to make amends. He tries not to think about why he feels guilty. He has a lot to feel guilty for, after all.
He lays a hand on Connor's shoulder, and tries not to think about why the boy trembles almost unnoticeably at the touch, or why the warmth of his skin through his clothes feels so good underneath his fingers.
"I want to make it up to you," he says, and berates himself for feeling a slight thrill at the way Connor's eyes flicker shut a moment, his lips quirk just a little, and his skin tinges oh-so-slightly pink. He leans forward, murmuring into Connor's ear now, trying to ignore their closeness and the scent of the oils in his hair and how that sends a shiver down his spine.
"I love you," he says, softly. He tries not to dwell too deeply on the fact that he actually sort of does.
Connor slowly sets his quill down, and his shoulders relax slightly. A small breath, almost a sigh, escapes his lips.
"Do you mean it?"
"Yes," Haytham replies, and lets himself brush his lips against the shell of Connor's ear and his hands trail down to Connor's stomach and presses a kiss against the side of his throat. He does not want to think about how good that feels.
Connor shifts in his chair, twisting so he is sitting sideways. He gives a low chuckle, of relief it seems, and looks at Haytham with dark eyes and a wicked smile.
"I really think you ought to apologise properly," he says, and looses his necktie, sighs, and parts his thighs just enough that Haytham understands just what this apology must be. As much as he does not want to admit it, the sight of Connor in such a seductive position and the thought of what he wants arouses him far more than it should. After all, he is the boy's father.
...And the boy does not know, a small voice at the back of his head adds, and that makes him even harder.
Haytham kneels, and starts unbuttoning Connor's shirt and waistcoat.
"You deserve a very thorough apology," Haytham says, as if musing aloud. He lets his hands wander over that wonderfully-sculpted torso, fingers lightly scratching at a nipple. He leans forward, and upwards, kissing those terribly soft lips, then down toward the Adam's apple- a brief suck here. He runs his tongue down, then along the collarbone, teasing the other nipple with his thumb. Connor lets out a small sigh, and tugs at the ribbon holding Haytham's hair in place until it comes loose.
His mind wanders as he works his way downward, and he sees similarities in their bodies. Connor's build is a little more heavy, a little more solid than Haytham, probably from all the tree-climbing and brawling he does. He's bony in similar places- his collarbone for one, his wrists and elbows. Their hands, too, are similar. Connor's fingers are a little thinner, though certainly just as strong as Haytham's.
He teases by mouthing at the cloth of Connor's breeches, eliciting light moans and soft sighs that sound a little like Ziio.
He takes his time after untying Connor's breeches and yanking his smallclothes down. He hesitates a moment, mouth open and almost touching the crown. He lets out a soft breath, and Connor twists his fingers in his hair and lets out a whimper at the sensation.
His son. This is his son. This is wrong.
The moment passes, and he gives a slow, promising suck, and relishes the cry that tears from Connor's throat. He has committed so many wrongs in his time, and there is no point in stopping now, not when those wrongs feel so good.
He lets his tongue swirl around the head, scrapes lightly with his teeth as carefully as he can. He licks up the underside, teasing the vein, and makes featherlight strokes around the base and balls. Connor is too long for him to be able to take in fully without gagging, so he simply teases, filling his mouth as much as he can every now and again, dragging groans and pleas and noises from Connor's throat.
The thought that he is the one making his own son moan and writhe like some wanton whore is far more arousing, more appealing, than he would like to admit.
Finally, Connor's hands clutch at the roots of Haytham's hair, painfully, and his hips twitch and jerk and shudder, and Haytham manages one last teasing suck before the boy spills and cries out. His hands relax slowly, and Haytham lifts his head when Connor finally untangles his fingers from his hair. He swallows, wiping his mouth, and fishes a clean handkerchief from his pocket, cleaning Connor up and tucking him away before rearranging his clothes.
"Am I forgiven?" he asks, glancing up to meet Connor's gaze. The boy's lips quirk into a satisfied smile, and his gaze lingers just a moment too long at the straining in his breeches.
"You most certainly are," Connor replies, tiredly. His skin is still slightly sweaty, and he has not yet caught his breath. "Perhaps I ought to show my appreciation for the sincerity of your apology."
"Perhaps," Haytham's mouth says, before his brain can intervene. Connor drags him up, pushes him gently until they are pressed against the wardrobe, and starts pressing small, fleeting kisses against his jaw and throat as his hands stroke and massage and tease him in the most divine way.
Afterwards, he slides down the wardrobe and sits on the floor, panting heavily. Connor smiles at him and kisses him deeply and the small voice at the back of his head protests that these are most unbecoming father-son activities. He leans back and shuts his eyes and does his best to ignore the nausea. The guilt, however, is far more difficult to wish away.
Re: FILL 31/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-10 05:11 pm (UTC)(link)Oh Haytham, deeper and deeper and deeper. :P And it is all beautifully deserved, too.
This passerby! Anon hears you about losing control of the fic. Anon is in a similar situation and wonders if chapters share similarities with rabbits, what with the way they breed and all. Then again, Anon is enjoying your writing so much that she's hoping the chapters keep breeding. :)
fillanon
(Anonymous) 2013-01-10 05:36 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL 31/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-10 06:14 pm (UTC)(link)Oh Haytham. Getting attached now, are we? Serves him right for all he's done to Connor. And I see that he's still working to turn the boy Templar...poor Connor. I think that his troubles are not over yet.
You've lost all control over this fic? Hooray there will be lots more then! I mean...erm...that happens to me sometimes too. It seems like after a certain point the story just takes on a mind of its own, hm?
Anyways, you are amazing WriterAnon, and you spoil us with the fast updates and with how good this fic is. Keep up the fantastic work!
Re: FILL 31/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-10 07:41 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL 31/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-11 03:34 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL 31/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-11 03:23 pm (UTC)(link)