"Altair." Damn, since when did he get here? "Altair."
He almost wanted to punch him when the other merely sharpened his eyes and clenched his teeth, lingering all too long on his face. "Your jaw: It will bruise." A curse. "I should have come here sooner."
"Shut the fuck up, La-Ahad! Get on your damn knees!"
"It's about Inmate 923, sir; he's dead."
"Fucking bastard!"
"Altair."
"Did anything else happen?"
"Altair."
"Did he … touch you?"
"Altair."
"It seems as if that retribution wasn't enough."
"Get the Auditore!"
"Damn fuckers!"
"Did he—"
"Altair."
Malik grabbed Altair.
Pressed his lips against the other's.
And allowed the roar to create their own silence.
Silence, he found out, somehow able to touch the curve of the fool's cheek with fingers that were definitely not trembling, that rang louder than the fray around them: But Malik couldn't have given a damn at the moment, not when he pushed his mouth to Altair's without words, something initiated on his part for the first time, without the ability to say anything, at all. He expected the response to be aching, turbulent, primal, as was all their heated exchanges had come out to be, but when the latter simply applied the slightest pressure that had his head spinning, he dropped to his knees, and his eyes finished off the distractions that were now restraining his own form.
Fuck, he wanted to yell: to demand why the other had acted to brashly when he knew about things—very fucked up things—that happened everyday, what even the most "protected" inmates could not avoid; because Altair Ibn La-Ahad was a damn idiot that had not let him go, ever since Malik had seen him the first time he stepped foot into the prison. That had to be it.
Or Malik would not have perceived his gut lurching forward at the quirk of scarred lips.
"That was worth the wait, Malik."
"We got him! Open cell 54KD!"
"It's open."
"Altair."
Altair displayed his satisfaction, satisfaction that was meant for him only. "If I had known that something like this would make you do that to me, I would have gotten rid of that bastard sooner."
"Get him in!"
If only he could breathe. "Altair, you dumb fuck."
Slop Day, Every Day (6/7) of [1/1]
"I am here," he amazingly heard. "Malik."
"Altair." Damn, since when did he get here? "Altair."
He almost wanted to punch him when the other merely sharpened his eyes and clenched his teeth, lingering all too long on his face. "Your jaw: It will bruise." A curse. "I should have come here sooner."
"Shut the fuck up, La-Ahad! Get on your damn knees!"
"It's about Inmate 923, sir; he's dead."
"Fucking bastard!"
"Altair."
"Did anything else happen?"
"Altair."
"Did he … touch you?"
"Altair."
"It seems as if that retribution wasn't enough."
"Get the Auditore!"
"Damn fuckers!"
"Did he—"
"Altair."
Malik grabbed Altair.
Pressed his lips against the other's.
And allowed the roar to create their own silence.
Silence, he found out, somehow able to touch the curve of the fool's cheek with fingers that were definitely not trembling, that rang louder than the fray around them: But Malik couldn't have given a damn at the moment, not when he pushed his mouth to Altair's without words, something initiated on his part for the first time, without the ability to say anything, at all. He expected the response to be aching, turbulent, primal, as was all their heated exchanges had come out to be, but when the latter simply applied the slightest pressure that had his head spinning, he dropped to his knees, and his eyes finished off the distractions that were now restraining his own form.
Fuck, he wanted to yell: to demand why the other had acted to brashly when he knew about things—very fucked up things—that happened everyday, what even the most "protected" inmates could not avoid; because Altair Ibn La-Ahad was a damn idiot that had not let him go, ever since Malik had seen him the first time he stepped foot into the prison. That had to be it.
Or Malik would not have perceived his gut lurching forward at the quirk of scarred lips.
"That was worth the wait, Malik."
"We got him! Open cell 54KD!"
"It's open."
"Altair."
Altair displayed his satisfaction, satisfaction that was meant for him only. "If I had known that something like this would make you do that to me, I would have gotten rid of that bastard sooner."
"Get him in!"
If only he could breathe. "Altair, you dumb fuck."
A laugh.
"Your welcome, Malik."
"Now!"
"Your welcome."