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
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
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Discussion

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The surface breaks with no resistance and it swallows him whole like it is starving for it, sucking him in like it's sucking in air, because there's none of that down here. All Altair feels is the worst part of the jump – he is going down and there is no end to it, like gravity is taking this moment and drawing it out on purpose, in spite, one second longer for every time he has escaped its clutches. When he thrashes, his hands find no purchase. They close around handfuls of water that escape his grasp as he tightens his fists, even though it is all around him. He can hear nothing and his lungs fill with icy needles, but without a doubt, Altair knows this is what it feels like to drown.

---
Something hard presses into his chest.

It is sudden and it is the first thing he feels after numbness overtakes him. At first, the sensation is so distant that Altair wonders if it is his heart, still fighting even when his body has given up, if that is the last, feeble attempt it gives, if that is all that remains of Assassins when they pass – a struggling heart that is eventually swept away by the currents. When it repeats, it hurts, and the fact that he feels it is strange and confusing. There is warmth over his mouth, and he tries to breathe it in, but his lungs have no space for it.

Three times, and Altair jerks up, twisting to the side. He coughs and coughs and coughs until his throat stings from it, and water falls from his mouth. His body shakes from the force it takes to push it out of him. His heart thumps triumphantly in his chest, almost like a victory cry, and when he looks up, Malik is sitting back on his ankles, staring at him with a look of surprise. His robes are wet, dripping onto the dusty earth and blackening a big, messy splotch on the ground at the end of a darkened path leading up from the shore.

For a minute, they just look at each other. Altair is still heaving, and Malik is frozen, hand hovering over his lap like he was either in mid-reach or in the middle of lowering it back down to the floor.

It is the former – with a deep-set frown, Malik curls his hand into a ball and throws a merciless punch into Altair's jaw, knocking the younger man onto his back. “What did you think you were doing, novice?” he shouts, all the color rushing back into his face at once, and it isn't until then that Altair notices how pale he had become. “How could you make an immature, inexperienced mistake like that? I have no idea what anyone could possibly see in you – you can't even survive something as trivial as a push in the wrong direction! How you've managed up until now, I have no idea!”

Altair lays on his back for a while, staring up at the sky. It still looks far away, always does no matter how high he climbs, but the bright spot of the sun no longer ripples when he looks for it, and the sky is more gray than deep blue. He raises his hand to his face and feels a dull, aching pain blossoming to the right of his mouth. Somehow, it is all relieving – the sky, the sting, the sound ringing in his ears. He turns his head to the side, watching until Malik has run out of words and just sits there, trembling with anger (but that is not the only thing making him shake).

He tries to apologize (Altair is better at those now), but when he opens his mouth all he does is cough, curling up from the way it racks his body. There is a hand at his shoulders, pulling him up until he is sitting, and then it slides to his back, thumping hard against his back until the sound is more hollow than wet. When Altair sways, dizzy more from the shock of being alive than from the idea that he might die, Malik lets him fall against his chest, and whether that is because Altair tilted that way, or because Malik moved into his path, is hard to say.

Malik's heart is racing; Altair can hear it against his ear, muffled as if he were still underwater, but strangely pronounced with the regularity of the frantic pulse. The other man turns his face down, exhaling against Altair's bangs, pushing them down where the moisture still hanging onto the short strands mat it to his forehead. He sounds tired and exasperated all at once, and although those are not the only things Malik feels, they are the only ones he will allow himself to show. “We are going back to Masyaf,” he declares with such finality that Altair already knows that when (not if) he argues, he will most likely lose. “And when we do, I am going to teach you how to swim.”

Altair closes his eyes and quietly chuckles. “Did you save me so that you could drown me yourself?”

“I am going to drown you so that you will no longer need me to save you, novice. It is more of a hassle than you are worth,” Malik answers, drawing away. It is only in weakness that he needs this, but that doesn't stop Altair from straightening, covering his mouth with his own like he's the one who's about to breathe the life back into him. Their lips are cold and wet from river water, and Altair's mouth carries an iron tang to it, having torn his throat raw with the coughing. It may be weakness that instilled the need, but what he wants is a completely separate matter altogether.

“Altair,” Malik says sternly at the end of it, frowning even as excess water runs down his temple, but he doesn't reprimand him further than that.

Altair blinks through the moisture clinging to his eyelashes and for once, is grateful for the harsh Syrian sun beating down on their backs. It warms him even through the chill of death and water, dries the dirt until the trail they left behind is only faintly visible. Even now, as he tries to remember it, he can only recall the recognition of the fact that he was drowning. He didn't panic, his life did not flash before his eyes, and he didn't even take a moment he didn't have to reminisce on those things most important to him. It is only a memory now.

Malik stands and pulls him up with him, a strong and firm arm lifting him onto his feet, even if Altair hardly needs the help. On solid ground, he neither staggers nor wobbles. Malik turns away from him, back towards the city that will lead to the path that will lead home, and begins to walk. Altair glances over his shoulder, sunlight making the ripples on the surface of the river shine, calm and serene as if nothing had disturbed it, as if it, too, had come out of that ordeal unfazed, and Altair only stares a moment before he faces forward. On solid ground, he neither sinks nor staggers. He takes a step and flies.

Not!OP loves this! Absolutely enjoyed the way your wrote out their emotions as the events occurred. Their relationship has a nice, delicate feel to it. <3

;LKDASJFLSKAJD!!! Oh my god thank you so much anon! ;A; I loved it!!! <3 I loved your use of words and the description and just...everything.

Just damn writeanon; damn. That was really really good. One of those "I need a cigarette" kinda goods.

I like how I managed to NOT cut and paste that sentence in the last paragraph before moving it further down in that sequence WAY TO GO SELF. But it's correct position is the second time, as opposed to the first. ._.

*It may have been weakness

I thought this was fantastic! The first paragraph made me feel claustrophobic, I would hate to drown. I do not want to go through that. Go Altair for taking it like a champ. I loved the words and phrases you used throughout the whole thing.

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2

fetter (1/2)

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Re: OP

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fixing typos

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