asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2

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assassin's creed

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.2
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List of Kinks
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
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(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
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Discussion

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He was always nervous, with conversations like these. Of course, the call was secure, using the Assassins' own satellite and equipment - he had complete faith in Leonardo. But there was always the uneasy feeling that no system was impenetrable, no code unbreakable. Even those designed by the greatest engineer, cryptographer and inventor who ever lived.

"Ezio," said Niccolo Machiavelli, his voice as curt as ever. "It is as you said."

Ciro had loosened the zip at the back of Bianca's snug charcoal dress, to gain better access to her slim shoulders. Bianca lifted her long, white-blonde hair away from her neck, flipping it over her shoulder to hang down between her breasts.

"You found the girl?" Ezio said. "Will she help us get access?"

He looked back at the bed to see Bianca ease her shoulders out of her dress, revealing the straps of her black lace bra. Ezio cursed and looked instead out of the window. He was half-hard, his cock pushing the towel out in front of him.

"Don't you read the papers, Auditore? The Polizia found the girl overnight. She was hanging by her neck from her bedroom window."

"Merda!"

"So, we have no-one. I am calling it off. We must wait for another opportunity."

"No. We proceed. Do you know how old that girl was, Machiavelli? The things that were done to her?"

"Of course I do; but that has little bearing on our present circumstances."

Out of nowhere, Ezio's towel fell away from his waist, and he whirled to see Bianca twirling it. Realising he was completely naked, he turned his back. Bianca flicked his ass with a loud, stinging crack.

Furious, he reached to grab it off her, but she dodged out of his way to rejoin Ciro on his bed.

"It has every bearing on our circumstances, Machiavelli," Ezio said, fighting for calm. "If you can't think of a way to end this today, I will speak with La Volpe. He had some ideas."

Silence on the other end of the phone. He glanced at the bed, turning his head warily. Bianca and Ciro were kissing. Ciro had Bianca on her back, her long blonde hair fanned out on the crisp white sheets, her legs spread, charcoal dress riding up her thighs. He saw a hint of delicate lace panties and wondered, absurdly, if they matched the bra. He was now completely erect.

When this phone call was over, there would be hell to pay for these two. Leonardo da Vinci had been experimenting with a wrist-mounted dart gun made of plastic and glass - perhaps as punishment Ezio would make them carry the device through airport security.

"I may know a way," Machiavelli said. "Listen."

Ezio planned to split his attention between Machiavelli and his apprentices. Ciro's hand slid beneath Bianca's dress. Out of the corner of his eye, Ezio saw him lift the elastic of her panties. There was the softest, gentlest squishing noise, and Bianca moaned and arched her back. Ciro's hand moved slowly.

"Oh, yes," murmured Ciro. "Like that, don't you?"

"Ciro," she gasped.

"Uhh," said Ezio into his phone.

"What sort of answer is that?" Machiavelli sounded irritated.

"Ah - what was the question?"

Ciro lifted Bianca's dress, took down her panties and lowered his head between her legs. She screamed and writhed. Ezio slammed his hand over the mouthpiece of his phone.

"Ciro!"

"What?" Ciro said innocently, wiping his mouth. "What did I do?"

"This call could change the course of history. Keep it down."

Bianca cast Ezio a sideways look and pulled Ciro back down. The young man shrugged at Ezio, as if to say - "What can I do?" He bent his head again, holding Bianca's hips as he kissed and tongued her. He seemed to be more careful this time, coaxing her to soft moans and sighs instead of screams.

Probably went straight for the clit, that first time, Ezio thought. Fool.

Ezio was so hard it hurt.

He lifted the phone again, prepared for another telling-off.

"What the hell is going on there, Auditore?"

"Nothing. You caught me... in the middle of something."

Bianca's sighs became gasps; gasps became sobs of pleasure, then cries. That girl needed gagging. Ezio found a scarf Caterina had left in his apartments a week ago, some delicate gauzy thing. He could simply pretend he hadn't seen it; it was unlikely to survive the morning. He balled up the strip of fabric and threw it at the back of Ciro's head.

Ciro feigned incomprehension, the scarf trailing through his fingers. "What am I to do with this, Ezio?"

Ezio mimed zipping his lips, and pointed at Bianca. "There must be another way to get an access card," he said to Machiavelli.

"If you are prepared to kill someone, there is always a way to get an access card." Ezio could almost see Machiavelli shrug as he spoke.

"No innocents," Ezio said.

"Not around here, anyway," said Ciro thoughtfully, while using the scarf to tie Bianca's wrists to a bedpost.

Machiavelli sighed. "Some day, Auditore, I will simply have my men do the preparatory work for one of your missions and tell you after they have finished. You'll see how simple it can be."

Ciro left Bianca tied down and writhing, and guided Ezio to the bed, a hand on his bare hip. Ezio, so aroused and distracted he could barely think, did not protest.

"The day I let you do my work is the day I die," he told Machiavelli as he crouched between Bianca's spread thighs. With one hand, he pushed her dress up around her waist, kissed her flat belly and stroked along her inner thigh. Her pussy was slick with her own sweet juice, and from Ciro's tongue. "Sometimes I wonder if you are truly an Assassin. You really do believe the end justifies the means."

Ezio covered the receiver again as he bent to trace his tongue along Bianca's wet lips. She moaned, and her thighs pressed close on either side of his head. He adjusted the phone against his ear, dipped his head, savouring the taste of sex as he nuzzled and kissed her. Bianca writhed, gasping and mumbling pleas for Ezio to fuck her; but at least with her wrists bound, she could not pull his hair or make trouble in some other way. Ezio felt a shifting weight as Ciro knelt behind him on the bed.

"I have never said this," Machiavelli said, sounding more irritated by the second.

Ciro spread Ezio's ass cheeks apart with his hands, kissed the hollow at the base of his spine. His tongue edged down, down, a fraction at a time, teasing.

"...The end takes its form because of the means," said Machiavelli.

Then, suddenly, a wet tongue-tip flicked against his asshole and circled.

"S-s-si," Ezio stuttered.

"It is shaped by the means, but neither the end nor the means can exist in idealised form. You -"

For once, Ezio was glad to let a conversation with Machiavelli devolve into a one-sided argument about philosophy. He set his phone on the bed just beside his ear, Machiavelli's voice faintly audible, still talking. He caressed Bianca with his tongue. Ciro's was excruciating. Wet and warm, circling, the trail of cool as moisture touched air. Firm hands holding him open; Ciro's stubble against his ass cheeks. Then his tongue tip squirmed right at the centre of his hole, and Ezio jolted and groaned. God he was good. No wonder Bianca had screamed.

"This is an idealised form," murmured Ciro. He slapped Ezio's ass, squeezed it.

Ezio was beyond rational thought, no longer caring what Machiavelli heard. He needed Ciro's cock in him, needed to sink his own cock deep into Bianca's tight pussy. He sat up and positioned himself over Bianca, nudged her slick entrance with the head of his cock. God, she was wet.

Ciro bent Ezio over and knelt behind him. Ezio lowered himself, pushing into Bianca's hot slit just as Ciro shoved inside him. It hurt, at first, but then there was only the intensity of being penetrated and enveloped at the same time. All three of them were crying out. Ezio was dimly aware that the phone had gone silent, that Machiavelli was no longer talking, but the call was still connected.

He let Ciro guide his hips as the younger man fucked him. The boy was talented - gentle but firm, a sure touch, deep and slow. Then faster, as Bianca moved her hips to urge him.

She began to call his name and shudder. Ciro fucked Ezio harder, holding his hips tightly. Then both of his apprentices climaxed together, Ciro wrapping his arms around Ezio, Bianca tightening her thighs around him as her body arched. Ezio followed, with the exquisite sensation of come spurting inside him and out of him at the same time.

Ezio collapsed with his head between Bianca's breasts, her dress rumpled and tangled under him. Ciro slumped beside him, arms around him.

Near his ear, Ezio heard Machiavelli clear his throat. He picked up the phone, and hung up on him.

Yesssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Must've taken a lotta guts to let an apprentice fuck him, if he was even comprehending that a tongue was sliding up his asscrack.
<3

Grazie, anon. I dunno wtfh you're talking about when you implied that the proofreading was not done; the format was well executed and excellent.

Thanks again~

Thanks and glad you liked :D I don't understand this bit though?

"Must've taken a lotta guts to let an apprentice fuck him, if he was even comprehending that a tongue was sliding up his asscrack"

Did I get something anatomically or psychologically screwy? I will love you forever if you could explain :D

omg, this was amazing.

i adore your writing, as well. jealous of yo skills. excellent job, writeranon. <3

<3 thank you!

WOAH. D-does anon have moar of his/her glorious writings posted in some sort of public forum where this humble one might partake in them?

This was fantastic.

Thanks anon, that's v. flattering :D unfortunately I have the problem where I don't manage to actually FINISH things a lot of the time. I don't have much completed stuff in this fandom :/

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2

[2].

Re: [3].

[4] not proofread blhh too tired/late

OP

Re: OP

Re: [4] not proofread blhh too tired/late

writer!anon

Re: [4] not proofread blhh too tired/late

writer!anon