Assassin's Creed: AltairxMalik

This is yaoi, sweeties! Don't like, don't read. Rated M for language and sexual innuendos.

*****

The strangest thought runs through one's mind when one is surrounded by twenty guards, has a bruised arm and no sign of reinforcement.

Wild, mad, nonsensical thoughts like "Why didn't I just kiss Malik this morning?"

Everything seemed so simple now that he was about to die! Screw the moral dilemmas and the dense plotting he had being doing for the past few months! He should have just jumped the bastard before leaving; should have kissed him truthfully, groped him through his clothes and then ran for dear live.

Malik would have been mad, furious even, out of breath, face flushed, screaming at him, and Altair would have fucking enjoyed himself.

But he didn't do it. And now he could only endure about five more minutes of fighting before an enemy's blade would find its way through his flesh. Plenty enough time to regret his not-coping-a-feel.

How stupid to die because he'd gotten clumsy. How stupid to die thinking about a kiss (of all things!) that never was. His concentration on the fight was slipping away as fatigue took over, the assassins who were supposed to have arrived to help on the mission would probably get there just before his mind fell into darkness…

Two of the guards jumped at the same time. He kicked one away and dodged the second one just in time; they could smell his fear; they knew it was just a matter of time now.

Dying by the hands of common guards. How manly of you, Altair!

Shit. Not even a heroic fight with an army of crusaders. About to die because he had slipped, goddamn idiot, instead of staying still on the roof waiting for his comrades.

If you live, you should kiss Malik, his inner voice wisely told him, and make it wet, once you're at it.

Air escaped his lungs as someone punched his stomach.

The best way to go about this is to lick… hm, suck his bottom lip.

"Altair!"

Something kicked him. He was out of breath. Why were people shouting so loud?

And then the top lip. Right, can't forget the top lip…

"He's still alive! Get me some water!"

Top lip is very important.

Hands were sitting him down, splashing water on his face; it hurt to breath. Men in white. Comrades.

"I'm alive…"

The one helping him smiled, the others ran away to continue what he had started. "Of course you're! Just fell unconscious for a moment, I think" Altair now recognized the man. What was his name again? Aban, Abbas, Abbud… Luka? "Must have been a nasty fight. We're sorry for the lateness."

His name didn't matter. "Yes. I spent the night killing the archers around, didn't get any sleep…" Surreal, to talk to a familiar face he thought would never come. "Spoke to Malik, came here"

"Then off you go. Back to the Bureau, we'll take care of everything now."

Altair stumbled from the scene. Taking the left would be the quickest way, but there was a crazy-homeless guy walking around pushing people. Fuck. He did not want to deal with that when his body ached and his lungs begged for air.

The longest way then.

So, you're alive…Congrats.

Fucking inner voice.

What a shitty day.

And he got to live.

Oh…

Well…

Thank the Gods he didn't kiss Malik that morning then.

*****

"… irresponsible! How old do you think you…"

One of the rare occasions Altair was physically touched by someone happened when he got hurt. He always used to attend his own wounds so no one would have to bother. He didn't want to show his weakness to his brothers.

Yet, he now used it as an excuse for Malik to touch him. He thought maybe Malik saw it as an excuse to touch him too, since he never cared for anyone else's bruises.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"Are you listening to me?!" Malik's caress on his arm was like a lover's whisper, one he never had, and completely contradicted his tone and harsh words. "So goddam…" Every wound would be cared for, every touch would linger more than the previous one; Altair could barely remember to feel pain when Malik's attention was all over him.

His skin tingled as the younger man stayed his hand a moment longer on his arm, Altair's own hand resting on top of it for a moment, such a heart stopping moment, before reluctantly (Altair hoped) it moved away.

"Bring your clothes to the tap, they need washing."

Malik left. And they would never talk about it. That moment. Like it didn't even happen, even though it wouldn't cease replaying in his head.

They were friends now, as close as they had never been. With Al Mualim dead and the Creed trying to survive on its own, Altair found support and comfort inside Jerusalem's Bureau.

Malik didn't blame him, didn't hate him. He had forgiven everything that had been done to him, to Kadar. Maybe it was time for Altair to forgive himself.

Staying beside that man, talking to him, being part of his life (even if just for a little while) had made him heal. His friendship and newly discovered feelings gave him meaning, a taste of what peace felt like.

Altair liked this peace-thingy. He had heard of it all his life; had fought for it, lived for it… But never felt it.

Fighting the crusaders for what, if all he had to do to reach peace was lay in comfortable pillows in a summer night and had Malik bring wine so they could, his words, "watch the stars like kings"?

"Ow, is the blood just going to clean itself off of your clothes now?" The younger man's words, spoken from the door, made his lips twitch before he could control it.

God, he liked Malik so bad…

*****

As Altair laid there listening to a pen writing, a cool breeze passing by him, his thoughts turned once again to the feelings that were flooding his mind.

The Thing.

That's how Altair named the whole package of feelings, fantasies, daydreams and attitudes he had concerning Malik.

Since he became aware of it, he found that The Thing should not be messed with.

The Thing had a will of its own.

The Thing was getting completely out of hand.

His fantasies were inappropriate, he knew; and they kept escalating; the things he wanted to do to the younger man came and went to his mind like the waves. They also depended on his mood, he supposed, and on the type of arguing that was taking place.

When Altair returned bruised, there would be scolding, yes, but Malik would also tend to his wounds with a care he could later blame on his duties as the Bureau keeper. Altair wanted to kiss him the most those days.

On other occasions, Malik would piss him off just before he was heading out for a mission. That was never good. In those moments Altair felt a burning desire to go over the frickin' counter. What he would do after that, not even him was so sure.

Probably kiss him, he guessed. A really strong kiss, to shot him up. Hm, maybe press him against the wall… Yeah, Malik between him and a wall sounded good. Way too good to be safe.

One of the things he was pretty sure he wanted to do was to hug Malik from behind. This way, he figured, he would have better access to his neck. There was something about the idea of kissing and sucking on Malik's neck that made Altair shiver in anticipation.

His skin was not rough like most men's. It looked… good. Especially at the neck.

Even weirder than his creepy neck obsession was the yearning to take that same position behind Malik and give him a handjob. GOD, he could not explain this shit!

The first time it had crossed his mind was an evening when the younger man had made him particularly mad. As adrenaline incited Altair to climb like a lunatic the tallest building he could find, fantasies filled with whispers and moans blinded his vision.

If ever given the chance, he would make Malik go mad with pleasure. He could almost feel his hand around a hot, pulsating flesh that wasn't his own. A shiver ran down his spine. Malik would throw his head back in abandon, on Altair's shoulder, as he was stroked. His neck exposed for Altair to do as he pleased.

There would be nothing Malik could do but to surrender to his ministrations.

Completely at his mercy. And Altair would show him none.

And so, Altair came to the conclusion that so much time in the sun was finally making him hallucinate.

How odd, to have fantasies about pleasuring someone instead of fantasies about pleasuring himself. He had never given his female partners such a treatment, it never seemed arousing to his eyes…

How long since he had touched a woman? Altair couldn't even remember exactly what breasts felt like, nor did he want to. All his sexual experiences had been short and with the simple goal of quieting down his teenage hormones. There was never any fantasizing, burning desires or wanton needs.

Now he was an adult who supposedly had full control over his body, and yet couldn't quiet stop daydreaming about giving his friend a handjob.

It was disturbing, in a way.

Breasts and tight wetness had served their propose when he didn't know what he wanted but needed release desperately. Now, for once in his life, with each day that passed he got closer to finding out what was it that he desired.

Which brought him to a very fundamental question: how to go about it?

Altair hardly believed that going up to Malik and asking for a kiss, please, because he wanted to prove a point was going to get him the answers. Confronting him face to face about the situation ("yeah, you give me wood, where do we go from here?") wasn't the way to go either.

If there was one thing he was sure was that a one-night stand would never satisfy him. How could it, when a taste of Malik's body would probably just increase the flame he felt? And for some reason, Altair had the impression that becoming just fuck buddies with the younger man wouldn't do it either.

So what was it, damn it! Why was it that mere sex just didn't seem enough? What could he possibly do to satisfy his hunger for Malik?

And this… atmosphere: what was up with that?! Touches that lingered more than they should, stolen glances holding a hidden meaning that Altair just couldn't quite put him finger on… Caresses that spoke more than words…

The only plausible explanation (the only explanation he wanted to take into consideration, really) was sexual tension.

Altair had never had a sexual-tension-thingy before (that he was aware of), but he had heard of this intriguing phenomenon. The bickering back and forth with such a heated passion that could culminate with hot bodies pressed against walls and ardent kisses.

Or whatever.

Only in his case, it always ends up with a cranky Malik and a few hours of climbing around with a semi hard on. No heavy patting for him.

Altair was a hundred percent positive that Malik's reactions to his provocations were responsible for their current pheromone-filled atmosphere. It was his blushed face, panted voice, all those furious remarks thrown at him with a passion that truly belonged to Malik's nature… God, he wanted to jump him so bad!

If only things had gone differently…. Instead of arguing, just ignoring each other… Than maybe all those feelings wouldn't be building up inside of him in the first place.

Yet.

Yet… with The Thing gone, he would have no reason to go to Jerusalem so often. His job would get easier and his life would get back to the same old boredom. No desires. No purposes. And without a master to trust and guide him.

Life had become so dull after Al Mualim…

And so full of live after he deepened his friendship with the younger assassin!

He had never felt so alive! Climbing, running, jumping didn't give him the adrenaline he now felt every time he thought about Malik and The Thing, feelings he never believed could exist inside him. The possibilities!

It was something to do. A part of his life with no involvement in assassinations and betrayals. It filled his mind with warmth and his skin with goosebumps. How could he not fall in love with falling in love?

Altair felt sleep hovering over him. The feeling that he would wake up and realize another man was master of his soul never leaving his mind.

*****

I think I should say it: this story completely disregards AC: Bloodlines and the Codex pages in ACII.

So, what's up! =] This story is also on Deviant Art, on my account www. the-not-writer. deviantart. com (minus the spaces!!). Check it out to see the two fan arts that inspired this story!

Currently, I'm working on a second chapter! Feel free to point out any spelling mistakes (English is not my first language). Feed back is MUCH appreciated!

Edit: Thank you SO much, Miss Ziya, for correcting my spelling/grammatical mistakes! I didn't have a beta for this chapter and English is not my first language, so a few errors occurred. Thanks a lot!