Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2

[asscreedkinkmeme]

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.2
Fill Only

Welcome to the Brotherhood

∆ 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
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion

Comments

untitled (1/2)

[(Anonymous)]

Altair heard the din of a struggle before he saw it, and because he had fallen into the habit of rescuing civilians lately (they could do with the help, and the guards could do with the trouble), he found his feet unconsciously shifting his path towards the source of the noise, the hidden blade sliding out from the base of his palm with a metal sound that was lost within the staccato-beat of his footsteps. When the noise grew loud enough that he was sure it was just over the edge of the next roof, he jumped down.

Then, he nearly tripped on a Templar's loose helmet.

“My, what grace,” a familiar voice drawled, and after Altair caught himself just in time to avoid an intimate introduction between his face and the floor, he looked up to find Malik wiping off the excess blood from his blade on the backside of a fallen guard. In fact, the ground was littered with Templar men, their tunics more red than white now, all strewn in varied but equally dead positions circling around the one-armed assassin. Other than the corpses, there was not much mess – every single one had suffered one or two blows at most – a clean parry and then a decisive strike.

Altair glanced back at Malik, and frowned, gesturing at the scarlet stains streaked across his Assassin whites, and most likely across his dai robe, where the color was too dark to distinguish. “Malik, are you injured?”

Malik scoffed and hid his sword, slipping it back into a sheath hidden underneath his scholar's coat, because Altair was not the only one who hid behind their guise. “None of it is mine, Altair,” he said with great patience, like he was talking with a child. Carefully stepping over the bodies as to splash none of their pooling blood onto his boots, Malik sidestepped the other Assassin and took his hand all in one swift motion, leading them both out of the incriminating alley and into the throng of civilians.

Altair leaned in close, and Malik used the other man's proximity to hide his handicap, more a luxury than a necessity, but a rare indulgence nonetheless. The days were few when Malik could walk the streets of Jerusalem as an equal in appearance, despite his skill and prowess and strength. Altair did not ask if he had been the one to kill all those guards, because the answer was obvious, but Malik shot him a smug smirk just the same, like he knew he wanted to, and Altair's neck grew hot with the allegation, so he turned away, hiding his profile with his hood.

When they reached the bureau, Altair hopped up first and Malik automatically extended an arm to be pulled up. Neither spoke until they were inside. “Even their blood is more bothersome than the rest,” Malik announced, grimacing distastefully at the state of his clothes as he lifted his dai robe up to see the damage. Altair stepped forward, hands raised and hovering around Malik's waist without knowing how he could help, feeling awfully helpless for once (and that was uncomfortable, perhaps stemming from a deep-seated, long-ingrained fear of what would happen to him if he wasn't at least useful anymore).

The newly-appointed bureau leader of Jerusalem poked his head out for a moment, and at the sight of them, simply disappeared back inside with a quick murmur of, “Ah, I will get a basin, Masters.”

Altair jerked back, wondering if he had seen the intimacy in their proximity, and Malik smiled at the back of his head, amused. “Nasser is a good man to put here,” he said, shrugging out of the outermost layer of his clothes. “He remembers what I tell him, read through my maps with a studious I never saw in you,” and here, he laughed under his breath, a rare but increasingly less so sound that made Altair turn back to him like a hungry child to a dinner bell, “And he is quick and discreet. Set up my traps in a matter of days.”

“Traps?” Altair asked, settling for leaning against the adjacent wall for now, because Malik was fully capable of dressing and undressing himself, even if Altair was well-versed in the latter too.

(2/2) AND SO UNEDITTED TOO SOB

[(Anonymous)]

Malik shrugged, his heavy leather belt falling to his feet with a dull 'thump', the impact cushioned by the dry dust floor. “Did you not see? There were four more in the well. It was their crying that drew the others' attention.” His voice became muffled for a second when he tugged his tunic over his head, and the stains on the end of it smeared a small red trail up his left cheek. “You should have been there, Altair. You would have liked to have seen the sandbag knock them right in the ass into the hole.”

Altair lowered his head instinctively, the way he always did when he was watching someone and trying to not let it show, and it was more for the idea that Malik had single-handedly (no pun intended) disposed of an alarming number of enemies without even kicking up a sweat than it was for the fact that Malik was stripping bare in front of his eyes (though that helped too). “These traps...where are they?”

“All over, every district, but more concentrated in the poorer sectors,” Malik responded, before he lowered his head to undo the clasps around his bracers with his teeth.

Altair blinked. “You have made Jerusalem into a deathtrap?” he asked, straightening.

“I have made Jerusalem safer,” Malik corrected, stepping toward Altair with a hint of challenge to his stance, despite the fact that he was only in his breeches now. There was heat coming off his skin, and Altair found himself drawn to that heat, especially since it had been days since he had seen Malik last, ever since the older man left to tie up loose ends in his bureau before finally settling in Masyaf.

With the possibility of the new rafiq barging in any moment, though, Altair only chanced lifting his fingers to Malik's face, wiping some blood off and brushing the rest horizontally across his dark skin. Malik chased it, turning his head toward the finger and brushing his lips first against the pad of Altair's thumb, before they parted, a hint of tongue licking up the mess Altair had brushed away. “Only those that know they are there can set the traps off,” Malik said, eyes locking onto his with bright intensity. They were dark, shadows by his brow and the shade cast by the wooden lattice above their heads. “Some can only be triggered with a throwing knife. It is safe – I have dealt with careless novices before, Altair.”

Letting out a loud exhale, Altair felt the words forming against his skin, Malik's breath fanning against his hand, and found himself speechless. “Did you come looking for me?” Malik asked, with enough confidence to suggest he already knew the answer. “Did you think I had fallen victim to a Templar's-” and he spat the word with a vehemence common to their cause and an incredulity common to only a man brave enough to riddle an entire city with snares and tripwires, “sword? Did you underestimate me?”

Altair let his fingers drop and used the hand to forcefully turn Malik's face to him instead. “I would not make a mistake like that,” he protested, pushing off the wall to meet Malik's advance, shoulder to shoulder, just as aggressive and affronted. Then, something seemed to ease, and his expression softened. Quieter, this time: “But I did come for you.”

Malik's eyes widened, just a fraction, before his own hand came to grip, vice-like, onto the bottom of Altair's hood, tugging it down and back over his head. “Nasser,” he called loudly, “leave the basin at the door. I will fetch it myself when I am dressed.” Altair tilted his head, leaned in, and Malik hooked his hand around his neck, the top of his thumb grazing the younger man's jaw, but he waited until he heard a muted confirmation from the other room before he crushed their mouths together.

Re: (2/2) AND SO UNEDITTED TOO SOB

[(Anonymous)]

You know, as much as I loved reading about Malik being all badass, I think the scene where he's stripping down totally stole the show for me, anon. I have no other thoughts than UNF UNF UNF. (god, pulling the clasps off with his teeth, guh.)

But before I head off to my bunk, I gotta say the whole dialogue with Altair was wonderful, just the right amount of familiarity, respect and teasing. Looooooove<33

OP

[(Anonymous)]

OP HERE and damn, this must be the perfect way to start a day ever! Waking up and reading such a gloriously awesome fill. I squealed in delight throught the whole thing. I love everything about this and especially the dialogue - Malik's snarkiness has still an edge but is much more teasing than scathing, which is how I love to imagine him being after the first game: Teasing Altair endlessly. The 'Such grace' at the beginning is just the perfect way for Malik to greet the stumbling grand master!
And I particularly loved the "You have made Jerusalem into a deathtrap?" part XD And yay! Malik's smugness is wonderful.

And YES, I agree with the other commenting anon above me - the undressing part was very, very nice (durrhurr *____*) - I love how you made it clear throught the story that there is an established relationship there just by dropping the right words here and there. And the kiss at the end is such a great and hot way to end the story.
I seriously love you for this fantastic fill. Now, this day can't become a bad one, now matter what *_*

typo fixes as always

[(Anonymous)]

*studiousness
*shadowed by