“If you want it the hard way, so be it,” he ground out as he strode behind the seated assassin and fumbled for his belt, fingers quickly unwinding the leather girdle. In front of him, Altaïr still did not react, except for the slight quickening of his breath; surely he had to be wondering what his friend was doing, and the fact that he did not simply ask only served to anger the former dai even further.
“I take it you don’t care what happens now, then?” The whisper came out seductively, even though Malik hadn’t intended for it to be so. Yet, he had to admit, there was something thrilling in having the assassin at his mercy like this. And yes, while Altaïr could still run away or free himself from Malik’s tentatively knotted bounds easily, it was also sure that he would not; Malik knew the leader of their order wanted this, he just couldn’t admit it. He would have to force the man to enjoy this and make him scream out that he understood what Malik meant when he said that he was already forgiven.
Now, with his hands bound behind the chair-back, breathing shallow, confusion written all over his face, Altaïr was indeed a wondrous sight. Slowly, Malik walked back in front of the other one, fingers tracing twitching shoulders as he did so, the grin on his lips widening.
Then, at last, Altaïr met his gaze, a rebellious glint to his eyes, and Malik kneeled down on the ground before him, settling between his thighs, never breaking eye contact. Altaïr snorted, baring his teeth.
“So, this is your idea of making me understand?” he asked incredulously, but parted his legs farther nevertheless; Malik chuckled maliciously at that. Obviously, the assassin was bad at oppressing his desires once they had been aroused.
“I hope you’re a fast learner,” the former dai retorted, his hand already undoing the breeches of Altaïr’s robe and underwear, the watchful gaze that was thrown at him making him all hot and bothered. Some seconds later, the growing bulge was freed at last and as Malik gripped the throbbing member, squeezing slightly, it seemed as if Altaïr was having a hard time controlling his wants, hips thrusting up into the hand that was now stroking slowly, up and down; then, again a squeeze and the assassin finally gave a shaky sigh. At that, Malik frowned, head leaning forward to nuzzle the inside of one of the thighs in front of him.
“When was your last time, Altaïr?” he whispered, closing his eyes and inhaling the musky scent of the man he had desired for so long already, all the while continuing the almost torturously slow stroking.
However, Altaïr did not respond immediately; then, after a few seconds, there was only a breathless “Kiss me,” and he wriggled slightly in his restraints, wanting to make his need clear as it seemed. Malik was content with the fact that Altaïr’s mask was slowly coming undone and he straightened himself up to let their lips touch; it was only some nibbling at first, with Malik teasing the master assassin’s mouth, sometimes pecking him, amused at Altaïr’s impatience and desperation. Then he let the other one’s tongue finally taste more-- the slippery appendage exploring his mouth so zealously sent shivers down his spine.
Malik withdrew when the need for oxygen became too much. Breathing heavily, he looked at the ruffled man for a moment, then at the member in his hand; if some simple stroking could make him beg for kisses, then he wondered what would happen if he sucked him…?
Apparently, Altaïr knew what the former dai was about to do as his eyes suddenly widened, head slowly shaking in disbelief. “Don’t do this, you really don’t have to—“
“Sukat! Be still already. Just let yourself go at least once! I fear this really is the only way to make you understand…” And with those words, his lips closed over the tip of the dick while Altaïr let loose a throaty moan, his entire form trembling because of the simple, yet sensual touch; because of Malik’s wicked tongue circling the head, because of the shameless teasing he was exposed to. The throes of passion made him bury his hands in Malik’s short hair, tugging at them when he felt teeth grazing his heated and swollen flesh.
Make you understand pt 2
------------
“If you want it the hard way, so be it,” he ground out as he strode behind the seated assassin and fumbled for his belt, fingers quickly unwinding the leather girdle. In front of him, Altaïr still did not react, except for the slight quickening of his breath; surely he had to be wondering what his friend was doing, and the fact that he did not simply ask only served to anger the former dai even further.
“I take it you don’t care what happens now, then?” The whisper came out seductively, even though Malik hadn’t intended for it to be so. Yet, he had to admit, there was something thrilling in having the assassin at his mercy like this. And yes, while Altaïr could still run away or free himself from Malik’s tentatively knotted bounds easily, it was also sure that he would not; Malik knew the leader of their order wanted this, he just couldn’t admit it. He would have to force the man to enjoy this and make him scream out that he understood what Malik meant when he said that he was already forgiven.
Now, with his hands bound behind the chair-back, breathing shallow, confusion written all over his face, Altaïr was indeed a wondrous sight. Slowly, Malik walked back in front of the other one, fingers tracing twitching shoulders as he did so, the grin on his lips widening.
Then, at last, Altaïr met his gaze, a rebellious glint to his eyes, and Malik kneeled down on the ground before him, settling between his thighs, never breaking eye contact. Altaïr snorted, baring his teeth.
“So, this is your idea of making me understand?” he asked incredulously, but parted his legs farther nevertheless; Malik chuckled maliciously at that. Obviously, the assassin was bad at oppressing his desires once they had been aroused.
“I hope you’re a fast learner,” the former dai retorted, his hand already undoing the breeches of Altaïr’s robe and underwear, the watchful gaze that was thrown at him making him all hot and bothered. Some seconds later, the growing bulge was freed at last and as Malik gripped the throbbing member, squeezing slightly, it seemed as if Altaïr was having a hard time controlling his wants, hips thrusting up into the hand that was now stroking slowly, up and down; then, again a squeeze and the assassin finally gave a shaky sigh. At that, Malik frowned, head leaning forward to nuzzle the inside of one of the thighs in front of him.
“When was your last time, Altaïr?” he whispered, closing his eyes and inhaling the musky scent of the man he had desired for so long already, all the while continuing the almost torturously slow stroking.
However, Altaïr did not respond immediately; then, after a few seconds, there was only a breathless “Kiss me,” and he wriggled slightly in his restraints, wanting to make his need clear as it seemed. Malik was content with the fact that Altaïr’s mask was slowly coming undone and he straightened himself up to let their lips touch; it was only some nibbling at first, with Malik teasing the master assassin’s mouth, sometimes pecking him, amused at Altaïr’s impatience and desperation. Then he let the other one’s tongue finally taste more-- the slippery appendage exploring his mouth so zealously sent shivers down his spine.
Malik withdrew when the need for oxygen became too much. Breathing heavily, he looked at the ruffled man for a moment, then at the member in his hand; if some simple stroking could make him beg for kisses, then he wondered what would happen if he sucked him…?
Apparently, Altaïr knew what the former dai was about to do as his eyes suddenly widened, head slowly shaking in disbelief. “Don’t do this, you really don’t have to—“
“Sukat! Be still already. Just let yourself go at least once! I fear this really is the only way to make you understand…”
And with those words, his lips closed over the tip of the dick while Altaïr let loose a throaty moan, his entire form trembling because of the simple, yet sensual touch; because of Malik’s wicked tongue circling the head, because of the shameless teasing he was exposed to. The throes of passion made him bury his hands in Malik’s short hair, tugging at them when he felt teeth grazing his heated and swollen flesh.