ME: Stupid life and it's stupid things that need to be done that don't allow me to write. Well if anyone is still reading, here is another snippit. I'm waiting for summer (two more weeks OH GOD) and then I can finish this. For now, have some sex. =)
***
“Ah, please…not so hard Iyad.” Malik suggested hoarsely, his voice starting to already lose its tone from the past hours of yelling, moaning, groaning and crying out. His knees were starting to feel abused from having to have hold all his weight as well as the man behind him who wrenched his only arm back and up.
“Just relax more.” Iyad replied back in a heavy breath, not letting up on his powerful thrusts and increasing his hold on Malik’s arm painfully. The younger man drove himself further and deeper into Malik every time, and Malik started to fell too open with his hips touching the bed flatly with Iyad between his legs, straddling the bureau keeper.
Malik was getting pushed into his sheets so ruthlessly the good part of the night, all the lust of the act was starting to dwindle down to nothing more than Iyad riding out his youthful possessions as if Malik was nothing more than some sort of courtesan from a brothel, having no say in it. Malik was now starting to hate the young. It was as if Iyad was a jackrabbit in a former life, his excitement never seeming to slow down. Malik thought it unfair that he was more or less “done”, hours ago, but despite his angry protests that soon became pitiful pleas, which now have turned into nothing but heavy and uncomfortable breathing. He had lost count how many times Iyad had released himself inside of him, twice pulling out to view his handy work as his seed ended up all over Malik’s back and hind quarters. Damn the youthful assassin who was all pent up rage and lust.
Iyad’s threat still held Malik to do nothing more than to allow the other assassin to do as he pleased. As Iyad backed Malik into his room in the darkness of the night, his mouth biting Malik’s neck gently, arms holding him carefully around his waist in mock affection, guiding them both back to the bed backwards, he whispered sweetly “HE will never find out anything if you behave.” Iyad had yet to remove his mask from his face, only pulling it over the bridge of his nose to lick Malik. Though Malik couldn’t see the other’s face in the darkness very well, let alone one that was still half covered, he could feel the nasty and ridged scare on the other’s face. Thinking fondly of Altair, and his tiny imperfection, Malik found himself growing sad for a moment as this scar was nothing like the Master assassin.
Malik often thought about what Altair’s scar must have left like if they were to ever kiss. It would be a warm day, in the cool shadows of the bureau, while enjoying two cups of soothing tea, sitting together on a beautifully detailed rug. He would imagine that he could feel it, the scar, just a little bit, the slightly different colored skin on his mouth as Altair would gently cup his face in his gloved hands, tilting his head back and very so slightly pressing himself to-
Malik grunted when Iyad slammed his head into the wall so he could shove his tongue into the older man’s mouth. Whoever or whatever caused the damaged to Iyad’s face must have been very serious. As Iyad moved to nibble at his neck, Malik left another thick and bold scar on the right side of Iyad’s face. It must have been a perfect hit from an enemy with a saber or his own stupidity because it left like his face could have been easily ripped in half and somehow by the grace of Allah was put back together. But whatever did happen, Iyad must have grown very self conscious of his battle prizes if he was not going to remove his face covering in these circumstances of all circumstances, unlike Altair or Malik, who wore their scarred faces and missing limbs proudly. The other bureau keepers even offered Malik if he wanted to wear a heavy Birder. A long and heavy robe that slung over the shoulders like a cape with sleeves to give the illusion that his arms were constituently hanging at his sides, while the rested comfortable inside. Malik declined respectfully, and pinned his sleeve up bravely. Not that Malik wanted to see those ugly thinks Iyad had on his face, he thought cruelly.
Old Temptations, New Resolves Part 11
***
“Ah, please…not so hard Iyad.” Malik suggested hoarsely, his voice starting to already lose its tone from the past hours of yelling, moaning, groaning and crying out. His knees were starting to feel abused from having to have hold all his weight as well as the man behind him who wrenched his only arm back and up.
“Just relax more.” Iyad replied back in a heavy breath, not letting up on his powerful thrusts and increasing his hold on Malik’s arm painfully. The younger man drove himself further and deeper into Malik every time, and Malik started to fell too open with his hips touching the bed flatly with Iyad between his legs, straddling the bureau keeper.
Malik was getting pushed into his sheets so ruthlessly the good part of the night, all the lust of the act was starting to dwindle down to nothing more than Iyad riding out his youthful possessions as if Malik was nothing more than some sort of courtesan from a brothel, having no say in it. Malik was now starting to hate the young. It was as if Iyad was a jackrabbit in a former life, his excitement never seeming to slow down. Malik thought it unfair that he was more or less “done”, hours ago, but despite his angry protests that soon became pitiful pleas, which now have turned into nothing but heavy and uncomfortable breathing. He had lost count how many times Iyad had released himself inside of him, twice pulling out to view his handy work as his seed ended up all over Malik’s back and hind quarters. Damn the youthful assassin who was all pent up rage and lust.
Iyad’s threat still held Malik to do nothing more than to allow the other assassin to do as he pleased. As Iyad backed Malik into his room in the darkness of the night, his mouth biting Malik’s neck gently, arms holding him carefully around his waist in mock affection, guiding them both back to the bed backwards, he whispered sweetly “HE will never find out anything if you behave.” Iyad had yet to remove his mask from his face, only pulling it over the bridge of his nose to lick Malik. Though Malik couldn’t see the other’s face in the darkness very well, let alone one that was still half covered, he could feel the nasty and ridged scare on the other’s face. Thinking fondly of Altair, and his tiny imperfection, Malik found himself growing sad for a moment as this scar was nothing like the Master assassin.
Malik often thought about what Altair’s scar must have left like if they were to ever kiss. It would be a warm day, in the cool shadows of the bureau, while enjoying two cups of soothing tea, sitting together on a beautifully detailed rug. He would imagine that he could feel it, the scar, just a little bit, the slightly different colored skin on his mouth as Altair would gently cup his face in his gloved hands, tilting his head back and very so slightly pressing himself to-
Malik grunted when Iyad slammed his head into the wall so he could shove his tongue into the older man’s mouth. Whoever or whatever caused the damaged to Iyad’s face must have been very serious. As Iyad moved to nibble at his neck, Malik left another thick and bold scar on the right side of Iyad’s face. It must have been a perfect hit from an enemy with a saber or his own stupidity because it left like his face could have been easily ripped in half and somehow by the grace of Allah was put back together. But whatever did happen, Iyad must have grown very self conscious of his battle prizes if he was not going to remove his face covering in these circumstances of all circumstances, unlike Altair or Malik, who wore their scarred faces and missing limbs proudly. The other bureau keepers even offered Malik if he wanted to wear a heavy Birder. A long and heavy robe that slung over the shoulders like a cape with sleeves to give the illusion that his arms were constituently hanging at his sides, while the rested comfortable inside. Malik declined respectfully, and pinned his sleeve up bravely. Not that Malik wanted to see those ugly thinks Iyad had on his face, he thought cruelly.