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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This anon's been feeling depressed and frustrated lately, so if I could get some fluffity fluff fluff, I'd really appreciate it.

So um, would someone be kind enough to write Altair actually initiating affection and wearing down his lovable tsundere boyfriend Malik into cuddle times? Any time period is fine, so long as there's affection and Malik being tsuntsun before breaking down and going all deredere.

I feel like such a weeaboo putting it that way, but "tsuntsun" and "deredere" describe those moods best.

Oooh this anon would totally love that too. :( ♥!! Seconding like burning!

THRIDING.

If you can wait a day or two, I've got this!

TAKE ALL THE TIME YOU NEED. :DDD

By necessity, Altair had learned to tell a great many things from a man's posture alone. People were wily; they could school their expressions into any myriad of false emotions, but there were few on this earth who could forcefully stop the beating of their heart when seized by fear or halt the flush of their skin when taken with anger.

What he saw now was frustration. It was written across the stiff, tense line of Malik's shoulders, in the straight, rigid line of his back, in the jerk of his hand as he stabbed the paper just to watch it bleed black with ink. Even if the man had not been half-bare, sitting on the edge of the bed in only his breeches with his head bowed over his work, Altair would have been able to tell. This was a back he was very accustomed to reading. He had perfected this skill long ago, back when he had not yet earned the right to face him.

But times were different now.

Slowly, languidly, Altair stretched out an arm, sliding it across the bed until he could brush his knuckles down Malik's lower spine, a bump of bone against bone. Malik jerked and looked over his shoulder, face still knit with irritation, but Altair had learned to tell the difference between anger directed at him and anger for the world in general, which Malik seemed to hold in great reserves. “Do not bother me, Altair,” he chided, easing slightly against the back of the Grandmaster's hand. “I am working.”

“That is bothering you,” Altair pointed out, nodding at the scroll on Malik's lap. “Not I. It is early yet, come back to me.”

Raising a brow, Malik let out a breath of amusement at Altair's blunt, undecorated speech, but they were alone here, and sometimes love was difficult enough that they hardly needed more barriers to add to the confusion. He did not put down his quill, but his hand stilled, sparing the paper of its messy murder. “Perhaps you would like to answer this correspondence while I put it off? I do warn you – this dealer has been known to swindle at every opportunity if you are not particular enough with your words. One possible misunderstanding, and he will be trying to rob the very carpet from beneath our feet.”

Altair reached up to make up for the hand that Malik couldn't reach back to touch him with, smoothing his palm over the ridges of muscle that led up from his back to the gnarled skin that began at his left shoulder. He did not push, he did not pull, but this was a luxury already, secret indulgences stolen in the late hours of the night or the early ones of the morning, and try as the dealer might, he was not going to steal this from him. “Try?” he prompted, shifting his head against the bed, angling it towards Malik in question.

“Well, he would not succeed. We are Assassins, after all,” Malik responded with a smirk, and just when it looked as though he might give in and retire, his eyes slid back to the letter, and he heaved a great sigh. Dropping his quill to the ground, he kneaded the skin between his eyes and fell back against the bed, his head pillowed by the flat of Altair's stomach. The world and all its treachery lay beyond the boundaries of this warmth, in the conniving words of the dealer, in the very hours of the working day. Sometimes, even sharing the burden of rebuilding a city was a great weight to bear.

“I can go speak with him,” Altair offered, brushing back Malik's bangs idly with his fingers.

Sometimes, it was worth it.

“We need him alive,” Malik said, by means of refusal. He could sense the vibrations beneath his head as Altair chuckled in response, and so busy was he in listening to the deep echo of that sound that he didn't even notice the scroll sliding off his knees. He turned his head to look up at Altair, pressing his ear flat against the planes of his stomach, and relaxed, easing into the quiet, comfortable energy that followed the Grandmaster into rest. It enveloped him, pulled him away from the world outside and into a lull of nested time that Altair had gathered for Malik and himself, a collection of all the stolen seconds he had accrued while racing men to their ends, perhaps

“That is more difficult,” Altair acceded. “But not impossible.” He sat up, and Altair bent down just as Malik raised his head. His hand raised to cushion the back of Malik's neck, and Malik's hand raised to guide Altair down. They met each other halfway in a slow, familiar motion that would have been simpler had one of them simply stayed where they were, but they had always chosen equality over ease.

“I will help you write it, but in the morning,” Altair said, a compromise, and this time he did pull, but only so much that it spurred Malik into action, who kicked back on the bed and rearranged himself alongside the other's body. Altair half-rolled over him, shackling him there, and sought his hand out with his own. His fingers trailed down the inside of his arm, tickling over the dip of his elbow, until he reached Malik's hand. Gently, they began to rub the ink off his skin, though the motion only succeeded in staining both of their fingertips, but that, in a sense, was quite all right too.

“I hope you realize what trouble you are causing Masyaf right now by doing this,” Malik muttered, moving to face him only to find resistance when he did so. Altair had lay his head close enough that their foreheads bumped against each other when he turned.

“Masyaf would be nothing without trouble,” Altair replied, smiling.

Masyaf would be nothing without you, Malik interpreted, and he almost opened his mouth to scoff at that, to mock Altair for his inflated sense of self-importance, except this time, it was true. “It would be peaceful, I suspect,” Malik answered instead, injecting mock-wistfulness into his voice, pulling his face into an expression of indifference to mask his content and hide his heart, but like anger, frustration and fear, Altair could read it anyway, in the steady rhythm of his heart, in the tangle of their legs and the gentle push of Malik's fingers before he threaded them in his own.

*starry eyes* Oh oh oh anon, this is beautiful, just perfect and lovely and sensual and intimate and and and- *happy sigh* *reads it again and again*

OP is more than pleased! Thank you so much!

Omg, I can't even, this is just to cute!

hmmmm that was so romantic, I melted.

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2

ROT MY FUCKING TEETH.

Re: ROT MY FUCKING TEETH.

Re: ROT MY FUCKING TEETH.

Re: ROT MY FUCKING TEETH.

Re: ROT MY FUCKING TEETH.

equilibrium 1/2

equilibrium 2/2

Re: equilibrium 2/2

Re: equilibrium 2/2

Re: equilibrium 2/2

Re: equilibrium 2/2