Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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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.

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✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.

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Fill: They don't give a fuck about romance 1/2

[(Anonymous)]

I'm sorry Op, this kinda sucks. I hope you like it anyway. There will be a part 2

*****
There were a few reasons why Shaun was cranky about Desmond's arrival and one of them included a new lack of shagging. Before Lucy had escaped with their resident science experiment, Shaun had quite comfortably shared insults, music, the tiny bathroom that was more of a closet than proper facilities, and a bed that was spacious enough to accommodate a harem with Rebecca. And by "shared a bed", he meant it in both ways.

Now there were two more people to worry about, one of whom chronically left the toilet seat up - no prizes for guessing - and the other that didn't see the benefits in releasing sexual tension on a regular basis. If Shaun was honest, it had been the sexual tension that had done a number on him in the first place. It was hard to get one off with a woman who was more inquisitive than the cheshire cat lurking around. Partially it was embarrassment (at being human of all things, rather than, say, the fact that he still wore clothes from boarding school that had his name sewn into the collar), but mostly if he caved, he wouldn't be able to stop.

Rebecca could be irritating, but Shaun saw her as a worthy opponent to match wits. She was smart, no doubt about that, but a different sort of smart to him. Making numbers and wires and other scraps of machinery work together was as easy as breathing for her just as dates and architecture was natural to him. Of course, Rebecca had that cute punk mechanic look going on, and physically she was an aesthetically attractive woman (and a woman she was, not a lady, but who wanted some delicate virginal princess when there was Rebecca and her own brand of fantastic sex?), but Shaun had met a lot of attractive women in his life, and he had found that higher the beauty levels (and higher awareness of one's own beauty), the higher the cattiness. He didn't want a beautiful woman who'd panic about her nails during sex and drift into clear disinterest when he slipped into a verbal essay on the complexities of the Roman aqueduct system.

While she may not remember most of it - it had taken a week for Rebecca to remember Shaun's name, thus proving the family tree of the Tudor family too difficult to grasp - she listened with rapt attention and would never interrupt, never tell him to hurry up. It was equally the same when she would talk to him about the problems and successes she had with Baby and other projects. Shaun tried to recall specifics like pieces of higher code but, like with Rebecca and the Tudor family tree, it had been of no use. He did know how to hack a system or a database though, thanks to their conversations. That was incredibly useful, especially when Rebecca couldn't do it for him (most prominently, when the animus was suspended in the air by a rigging of heavy chains and she was underneath it with only an inch to spare from being crushed alive).

But back to the sexual tension.

*****

Managing the information flow to several crack teams of assassins was not an easy job. For a start, most of them were athletes, not classically trained historians who grew up on a healthy mix of ancient Greek and Latin texts and a side salad of architecture. This sometimes made communication difficult, especially if one had found a clue relating to Gentileschi but they didn't specify whether it was Artemisia or Orazio - and their added notes were "it's got a lot of red in it", "there's a lady in it", and "it's quite good, isn't it?"

Sometimes Shaun thought they were deliberately messing with him.

"Oh come on, not even a single photo? Are you that technologically inept, nay, are you that educationally stunted that your teacher never gave a lesson on descriptive texts?" moaned Shaun.

"Most people can't even find their way around a television remote without studying it intently for five minutes let alone a point-and-shoot camera. As I recall, your description of the anti-virus alert was 'giant red thingy'," Rebecca replied lazily.

Shaun jumped at the sound of her voice. He didn't think Rebecca could hear him over her music.

"I was in a panic. Giant red things randomly popping up on one's computer screen when one is half asleep generally raises alarm."

"Or makes one fall off their seat," said Rebecca. "And it was a dragon. I thought you'd appreciate it."

"But why?" wailed Shaun, quickly diverting the subject back. "Surely you can teach them how to turn on a camera?"

"I could, but that would make your job easier," Rebecca teased.

Moaning and frustrated, Shaun threw his hands into the air. He growled. The computer screen was mocking, the light almost painful after almost sixteen hours of work, non-stop, the only time he paused was to sprint to the toilet and back to minimise downtime. He'd gotten up before Rebecca and would probably go to sleep after her. That was one thing he resented about his colleague - she had more time to sleep. Even though she had a deadline it wasn't for months yet. Infuriatingly the tech head had already completed the largest and most complex part of the Animus, meanwhile Shaun had live, short feeds, with cyphers and firewalls and history, fragments of notes, dodgy Internet connections, all manner of requests.

"You go back to your machine and leave me be!" snapped Shaun.

He wasn't resentful.

Absolutely not.

No, Shaun Hastings was not resentful. They couldn't have picked a better person to build what was a fascinating and horrifying machine. Rebecca had the pressure of building something that supposedly led to the prevention of the apocalypse. If she fried Desmond, well, Shaun wouldn't have to worry about his Christmas card list because they'd be nothing but over-roasted meat sticks.

"Then don't start the conversation," replied Rebecca.

"Sorry, it's just -" Shaun inhaled, trying to calm himself, "- just these  annoying report notes."

"The great Shaun has apologised? To me?"

She sounded incredulous and as he glanced over his shoulder, he caught her grin. Ah, well it was hard to hurt Rebecca's feelings after all.

He heard Rebecca's chair squeak as she spun away to her work. Tiny metallic scrapes and bangs echoed through the spacious warehouse room. It had a basic rhythm, broken up by pauses and different sounds, creating a slightly wonky but altogether pleasing sound. From the sound alone it was obvious that Rebecca had given up on her code and turned to the physical.

Good. She wouldn't be as fidgety tonight. Tossing the sheets and stealing the pillows was bad enough - adding a day of pent up energy made it almost unbearable. Like a small terrier, Rebecca needed to get out daily. Getting the wrench out was the equivalent of walkies.

****

Work ruled for several hours, after which Shaun finally logged out for the day. He'd clocked up nineteen hours in total. One of the other historians scattered across the globe had signed in two hours ago. Julia, her name was, a nice French woman, deep in the heart of Germany with her assassin partner. They had messaged each other briefly, the overlap of shifts purposely designed to ease communications. His next shift was in nine hours and Shaun intended to eat, shower, and sleep in that time.

With his brain so frazzled from the shift it was all he could do to dumbly wander off to the shower without falling over. The water was lukewarm which didn't bother Shaun at all, but the pressure was high enough that it felt like a layer of skin would be stripped in a brutal exfoliation by demonic plumbing. It had the unfortunate effect of waking him up.

Now he lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

The sun was beginning to grey the night sky. Shaun threw an arm over his face. Go to sleep. Go to sleep. Oh come on, it couldn't be that bloody difficult could it?

Rebecca, it seemed, was having a hard time drifting into Morpheus' arms as well. She rolled over to stare at him, which didn't help.

"Go to sleep," groaned Shaun.

"You go to sleep," said Rebecca.

"Brilliant wit as always."

"Clearly yours isn't up for matching my superior intellect when you're this tired. Seriously Shaun, go the fuck to sleep."

A smirk flitted across her face.

"I'm trying. If you'd kindly refrain from speaking, I might just achieve it before the world ends."

He jerked when he felt a hand rest on his belly. Running it up and down, instead of calming, it put him on high alert. It slipped under his shirt and drifted up to his chest.

"Calm now?" she asked, letting her hand pull away.

A keen of loss almost took form in Shaun's throat. That had felt quite nice. Not relaxing, and not alarming he now knew, but sexually charged, intimate. It could have been an invite to more, but Rebecca was a touchy feely type of person and he never knew how to interpret her affection. Shaun decided to tell the truth.

"No."

"Maybe a good fuck will put you to sleep. Do you want to fuck?" she queried, bluntly, to the point, and the only way Shaun could imagine her asking.

"What? No romantic dinner?"

"I can make you some mac and cheese."

Mac and cheese. Gods. And it was sort of romantic in a goofy way. Mac and cheese wasn't what he wanted at the moment - he was after sex. Rebecca was right. He needed to be laid, badly. She did too. They had a mutual situation and it wasn't like they could go out and hire a prostitute or pick up someone at a bar.

So what do two, young, horny assassins that may or may not be attracted to one another do in this situation?

Well, they fuck.

***

Two things occurred to Shaun when he woke up: bloody hell he'd had good sex last night, and his alarm was blinking at him with exactly one minute left of sleeping time before it rang. He felt relaxed for the first time in ages. Tired, but in a slightly muscle-aching sort of way that felt fantastic when he stretched. Rebecca was already up - he could hear her jumping around in the warehouse, making lots of noise, probably working out - mad woman.

He lay there for a moment, remembering how she'd started running her hand over his chest again and pulled off his cotton tee-shirt, her other hand gently dipping lower and lower, fingers light, making him laugh at the sensation. He'd pleasured her, pulling the sheets off and nuzzling soft pubic hair, spreading her legs so he could explore and lick and bring her to bliss. Together, they had struggled to get the foil open on the condom, and they couldn't help but giggle at it in their sleep-deprived state. They managed to roll it on in the end, and together they came to completion, Shaun biting at her shoulder and Rebecca pulling at his hair.

There hadn't been soppy romantic words or any conversation after. It wasn't necessary (and probably far from their minds as Rebecca fell asleep almost immediately, face down in the pillows and an arm flung over Shaun, while he was quickly behind her by about three seconds). They weren't cuddly people anyway.

"Good to see you didn't die in the night," greeted Rebecca, coming in with a towel over her head.

She was entirely nude except for a towel draped over her head. Somehow this didn't really bother Shaun anymore. It wasn't like she hadn't done it before. Trotting over, Rebecca threw her damp towel at him, hitting him square in the face.

"Despite what you may think, used towels are not a happy reminder of home," he told her.

"Oh? I thought it would be, considering the perpetual rain that keeps everything wet even when it's been through the drier twice."

Picking out a pair of black knickers from her suitcase, Rebecca hopped around to slide them on. Also quite nude, Shaun rolled out of his side of the bed and collected his things for the shower. He hadn't walked about in the nuddy while at the warehouse, as he preferred (like all good English gentlemen) to not offend the other occupant. It was exhilarating. Freeing. And convenient. He didn't have to worry about his towel slipping now and leaving Rebecca with an eyeful of more than she wanted to see of him.

They had a repeat performance that night, except this time they cut the opening credits and skipped to the first dramatic plot twist, and steadily made their way to the climax, sniffing for foreshadowing and clues.

And they kept performing every night, kept getting up naked, kept sharing a bed, sharing food, drink, ideas. Until now. Desmond. Bloody, stupid Desmond.

So he was understandably cranky when he met the poor guy for the first time. Rebecca shot Shaun a warning look. He backed down.

But the fucker had their bed!

Shaun pushed the thought away and instead focused on finding a private space he and Rebecca could duck away for a few hours.

Re: Fill: They don't give a fuck about romance 1/2

[(Anonymous)]

No, no, no, Author-anon, it's not crappy at all. I like how you've explored Shaun and Rebecca's initial sexual tension. It makes them more human. I think they're very in-character and you're doing a great job on the snark! It's difficult to write snark and I applaud you. Thank you again! I hope the next part is up soon!

Re: Fill: They don't give a fuck about romance 1/2 OP ABOVE

[(Anonymous)]

Whoops. Op above ^^^^^