asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2010-09-13 08:44 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2010-09-13 08:44 pm
Entry tags:
Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.2
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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.
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∆ 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
The Price of Failure [4/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-26 11:25 am (UTC)(link)“I remember,” Lorenzo said, tight-lipped, but he did not pull away. Lorenzo did not appreciate casual mentions about his childhood, particularly of his pre-adolescent years, when he was still given to pranks.
“Just as my blade had to be earned and not bought, once earned, it cannot be put away. Understand?” Giovanni leaned forward, brushing a kiss over Lorenzo’s forehead. “It will be yours, and it will draw blood in your defense. With or without your direction. With or without your blessing.” He ventured a kiss, lower, between Lorenzo’s eyes, then lower still, brushing unyielding lips. “If you send me away, then I will go. But for as long as I can I will walk in the shadows around you, to clear your way.”
“Giovanni,” Lorenzo whispered, “You are impossible.”
“Guilty, milord.” The next kiss was more promising; lips parted, and Lorenzo leaned up into it, though his back was still rigid under Giovanni’s caresses. This was going to take a little more coaxing than he had hoped. “So let me make up my mistake to you, master. And then fly me again by your will.”
“You want to make this up to me?” Lorenzo sounded speculative now, which was a good sign.
“Yes.”
“I,” Lorenzo told him, slyly now, “Have a riding crop in the second drawer of my desk.”
“I know that.” Giovanni reminded him, arching an eyebrow. “It was your sister the Lady Nannina’s gift to you. A reminder not to work too hard, I believe.”
“Perhaps I should take her advice. Fetch it for me.”
Puzzled, Giovanni obeyed, drawing the crop out from the drawer. It was dark leather, beautifully made, its handle richly inscribed with silver and gold thread. Nannina de’ Medici had good taste. He handed it to Lorenzo, handle first, and blinked in realization when Lorenzo clapped the flexible tress at the end into his bare hand, with a whispery slap. Ah.
Lorenzo watched him until heat climbed up Giovanni’s cheeks and his eyes darkened, then the young lord smiled, his gaze dark and intense. “Leave your breeches and your boots. Remove everything else.”
Re: The Price of Failure [4/?]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-27 01:49 am (UTC)(link)seriously anon. i love you so fucking much right now. everything about this is perfect.
The Price of Failure [5/6]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-27 01:20 pm (UTC)(link)The first, whispery slap of leather against his back only stung faintly, and Giovanni found himself a little… disappointed. Admittedly, he did not think that Lorenzo would go so far as to damage him: it would be a waste of resources if Giovanni were to be incapacitated for no reason other than play; but he did think that-
When he hissed at the second, sharper blow, his master chuckled, somewhere behind him. “Your mind wanders, Giovanni.”
“Mi dispiace, milord.” It took several more blows before he shuddered, back arched, fingers curled into the edge of the desk, licking his lips. Lorenzo wasn’t timing it, making the blows difficult to anticipate, and it was, against all odds, good. Cathartic. Giovanni breathed out, his very gasp of air trembling gently.
“I may bleed you,” Lorenzo said, his voice rougher now, a gloved palm stroking a slow circle at the small of his back.
“Yes,” Giovanni whispered by way of reply; he wanted it.
“Choose a word. If you speak it, I will stop.” Lips brushed gently against his spine, just under the nape of his neck, and he could feel Lorenzo’s warmth, so close, almost pressed up against him, all intimate, shared heat.
“Vecchio,” Giovanni decided, after casting his mind around wildly for a word, distracted as he was by gloved fingers walking up his back to trace his ribs. “Milord-”
“ ‘Vecchio’ it is.” Lorenzo nipped him and drew away; Giovanni moaned, almost risking a glance behind him, then he choked and arched instead as the next blow snapped hard enough to draw blood. Lorenzo hummed, pressing gloved thumbs against the edges of the wound, likely smudging the seeping blood over his skin, then Giovanni growled as the leather handle rubbed slyly up the crease of his breeches between his right thigh and his pelvis.
“One,” Lorenzo murmured, almost reverently, as he bent to press his lips just above the wound, and Giovanni whined.
When the riding crop was finally dropped onto the ground, Giovanni was curled over the table, on his elbows, breathing shallowly, leaning his entire weight against it, his legs shaky. The pain had long blurred into a continuous, hot ache that burned in a flat plane over his back, and he could recall no words but his master’s name. Heavy cloth rustled, then gloved hands were sliding up his flank, wet with his blood. He was hard; dully, Giovanni supposed he probably had been, from the very first blow, and his breaths turned wet and labored as the gloved hands curled briefly over the back of his neck, possessive.
“Good,” Lorenzo murmured, and kissed him on the back of his skull, then his neck, his voice harsh and near unrecognisable. “Very good.”
Giovanni risked a glance up, in time to see Lorenzo circling around, probably about to get some salve. Quickly, ignoring the flare of pain across his back, Giovanni leaned over to press Lorenzo down onto his chair, and sank down on his knees, trembling, looking up, questioning, pleading. Lorenzo bent, to slant their lips together, then he smiled, leaning back, and spread his thighs beside Giovanni’s shoulders, the tent in his breeches deliciously obvious.
“By your pleasure then, Giovanni.”
The Price of Failure [6/6]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-27 01:21 pm (UTC)(link)Eyes closed, panting and undone, Lorenzo was perfection, a libertine sprawled over his throne with a pretty flush on high cheeks, his rich clothes all in dishabille. Giovanni fumbled with his breeches until he took himself in hand, and squeezed, three hard, rough strokes until he spent himself, his cheek pressed hard against his master’s inner thigh.
Lorenzo did not speak again until he had finished cleaning, then salving Giovanni’s wounds with a basin of clean water and cloth that he had called for and the jar of salve in his desk. Giovanni submitted to the process quietly, eyes closed, concentrating on steadying his breathing, subverting pain and pleasure both into a thorny sense of careful peace. He looked up only when bloodied gloves were folded on the desk, Lorenzo washing his hands fastidiously in the basin.
“There was an old woman in the courtyard the other day,” Lorenzo said at last, neutrally. “One of those fortune tellers. They are very popular with the maids.” Giovanni did not speak, hazily content, and Lorenzo continued, “I gave her a florin because Nannina told me to. The old woman looked at my palm, and told me that a wolf from Roma would pluck the eagle from my wrist, in the seat of my power.”
“Milord,” Giovanni said gently, but Lorenzo ignored the interruption.
“I know. Those fortune tellers, they will say what they can to get money from you. Nannina saw that I was upset, and bade her leave. And then you were late in returning, and sent no word, so I thought-” Lorenzo fell silent, abruptly, his fingers lingering over Giovanni’s shoulders.
The assassin sighed, soft and low. “Some day I will die, Lorenzo. It is unavoidable, and will come to us all.”
“I know,” Lorenzo had his lips pressed against his neck, breathing in, and out. “I know.”
“But until then…” Giovanni turned, taking up Lorenzo’s right hand, to brush a kiss over his ring. “Fear ill becomes you, Magnifico.”
Lorenzo glared at him, with a spark of his usual haughty pride, but he allowed Giovanni to lean up, press his palms over his master’s cheeks, and pull him down.
-fin…! sorry for the wait.-
Re: The Price of Failure [6/6]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-27 05:09 pm (UTC)(link)I just went through an emotional roller coaster reading this: starting with sympathetic guilt, anxiety, relief, YAYSTARTINGWITHTHERIDINGCROPNOW, OMGFUCKINGHOTYEAH, and finally so much tenderness for both of them that I just want to steal them from Ubisoft's storyline and run away with them somewhere they could live happily ever after. Something that appears like BDSM fun first then turns out to be laden with so much foreshadowing of the future tragedy that the pathos is really affecting.
I don't have much words other than your fill's ending makes me want to find a nice quiet corner and
grievecry my fangirl heart out.Re: The Price of Failure [6/6]
(Anonymous) 2011-01-31 01:27 am (UTC)(link)OP loves you forever. OP hopes you know that. FOREVER. JUST. UGGHHHHH.
/GOING TO SAVE THIS AND READ IT WHEN INTERNET IS DOWN.
Re: The Price of Failure [6/6]
(Anonymous) 2011-02-12 05:30 am (UTC)(link)