asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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
Fill Only
Join or Die
✩ 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.
✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.
✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!
List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion
Connor/Clipper: Freedom (4/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-24 10:09 am (UTC)(link)Clipper forced his hands steady, but it was no use. Connor jumped and the bear followed, throwing its body into his line of fire, but then Connor ducked under his mighty paw and was in Clipper’s sights, and then round again and again. The bear’s head swiveled to follow the elusive prey.
No good at all. He might be able to catch the large brown form, but those shots would just make the bear angrier and Connor would be the one to suffer the consequences. He’d have to get at the head, but it moved too fast and there was the danger of hitting Connor.
The assassin, however, didn’t seem as panicked as Clipper – and he was the one locked in combat with a bear like two men in a drunken brawl. He looked focused. Each movement came with precision. As he turned on his heel, Clipper thought he saw a flash of iron. He thought it impossible. However, the two figures turned once more and this time, he caught sight not only of Connor’s hidden blade, but also the bloody stab wounds that had drenched the brown hair from the bear’s chin down to his chest.
The bear’s next growl was a strangled, bubbling sound. Connor danced out of the way as it straightened, standing tall on his hind legs, swaying – and falling.
“Clipper!”
Clipper felt himself reacting without his head really catching up to his hands’ actions. He lined up the shot on the bear and aimed for the eye, watching it explode as the bullet fragments passed into the animal’s brain. Twitching and whimpering the bear laid as life flowed out of him in red.
Connor’s shoulders sagged. He gave a nod as Clipper stared at him.
“You killed a bear with a wrist-mounted blade!”
“It has happened before.”
Clipper gave an indredulous laugh.
“Doesn’t make it less impressive, sir.”
They knelt together by the fallen animal. Stretched out to full length dead on the ground, between young saplings and mistflowers, its height and thickness dwarfed even the impressive Connor. When Connor reached forward, though, Clipper’s attention was drawn away by blood running over Connor’s outstretched left arm. From his shoulder to his elbow, his mantle was ripped, blood seeping into the frayed white fabric.
“It got you.”
“Just a small wound...” Connor frowned, but Clipper gave his jacket an insistent pull. It wasn’t the sort of thing he’d have dared some weeks ago, but since he’d opened up about his nature, he and Connor had just gotten closer. Every couple of days Connor would drop by for a mission or they met up to go hunting. Just last weekend he’d helped him and the two lumberers on his lands repair their mill, too. Sure, he took an unexpected swim in the river as the two started a fist fight on the roof and accidentally shoved him over the edge in the heat of the moment; but at least something about Connor’s stern voice just barely hiding his anger as he lectured the squabbling Terry and Godfrey had stuck with Clipper and made him feel warm whenever he thought back to it.
“Let me bandage it.”
“It is not worth the trouble.”
Clipper simply held on to his sleeve and after a quiet staring match, Connor gave a hint of an eyeroll and started stripping his jacket. He wore a rough shirt with short sleeves underneath. Muscles bulged under his tan skin and tensed when Clipper pulled a loose piece of cloth from the raw flesh.
“See? It is nothing.”
“I see it’s almost bone deep,” Clipper remarked.
Uncorking his water flask with his teeth, Clipper let the cool liquid run over the wound. After he’d washed it, he took a smaller vial from his belt and grabbed Connor’s forearm, fingers tight against the hidden blade’s leather sheet as he held it steady.
Connor hissed through clenched teeth when the alcohol dripped into the wound.
“I thought you did not drink?”
“I don’t. My pappy taught me to always come prepared. It’s more often than you think that you meet some city folk out hunting who are more like to hit their own comrades – or think an elk is the same sort of defenseless thing as a deer.”
“I suppose it could be helpful for our missions, too.”
Clipper was not aware of Connor’s eyes on him until he looked up and almost drew back as he found the dark-eyed gaze boring into his. Suddenly, he noticed how close they were, his knees against Connor’s leg, his hands on him, not half a feet between their bodies.
“I, ah... I have some thousandseal here,” he stammered. From his pouch he pulled some dry plants and a rough linen cloth. “It should stop the bleeding.”
“Yarrow. It grows around here, too. We used to collect it.”
“Right,” Clipper answered, relieved that there was something to take his mind off the fact that there was still no inch between them. He covered the scratch marks in the crushed dry bits of green leaves and white blossoms, then wrapped the cloth around Connor’s arm. “Your people live here... Haven’t seen anyone in a while, though. I used to meet the hunters in the woods or on the way to your home.”
“They went away. There was no place for them anymore with the men from over the seas moving in.”
“Oh. I – I beg your pardon. I didn’t know, sir.”
“What for? You live in Boston, not here. Even I am more to blame than you. I am among those offering strangers a place to live where twenty years ago only my people and the neighbouring tribes roamed.”
Connor flexed his hand as Clipper had finished tying the bandage.
“Must be lonely, though,” Clipper said carefully.
“My best friend was already dead.”
“Did the Templars...”
“No.” Connor took a deep breath and looked off into the forest green. “I killed him. Charles Lee deceived him, but I had the blade in hand when he died.”
Unsure what to say to that, Clipper lowered his gaze and put his hand on Connor’s shoulder – until he remembered how the man angrily brushed off people who tried such blunt intimacy with him. To his surprise, though, the fingers of Connor’s hand came to rest on his own for a moment.
“I don’t think I am quite so lonely,” Connor answered and something he’d never heard before from Connor was underscoring his voice – timidity. However, the other assassin quickly turned back to the large predator laying on the ground.
“Have you ever skinned a bear?”
“Once. Me and my brothers caught one. Four boys with rifles. Not one fella with a blade.” Clipper smiled and ran a hand through the fur, picking out a leave. “Y’know... I’ve been thinking – I saw you have an inn now, the Mile’s End, for the travelling merchants and sailors and such. Can I invite you to a drink today? In celebration on account of you not being killed by a bear, sir.”
“The husband and wife who own it moved on the property a couple of months ago. I haven’t been there since, though.” Connor nodded his head and as he unsheathed his dagger and set it at the bear’s throat. “Yes. I would like that.”
-
Re: Connor/Clipper: Freedom (4/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-24 10:45 am (UTC)(link)Re: Connor/Clipper: Freedom (4/?)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-24 10:48 am (UTC)(link)