Sometimes Malik wondered why he bothered with Altaïr. He was talented, he was quickly becoming the best Assassin the order had seen in years and he was a pain in the arse! Currently they were both outside on their knees; Altaïr clutching Malik's robes desperately as he practically cried his eyes out, babbling about drowning and not wanting to die. He sighed at the younger novice and took his elbows into his hands, "Get up, Altaïr…you whine more than Kadar when he scrapes his knee." He pulled Altaïr up and half dragged him toward the nearby stables before the light rain turned into torrential downpour. "I can not believe you tripped in a puddle and thought you were drowning! You are sixteen!"

"B-but Malik! Y-y-you know I hate water…" the teen sniffled quietly as he wiped at his face with a damp sleeve. Malik closed his eyes and took a deep breath, how had he ended up taking care of his six year old brother and Altaïr – who was ten years older than the blue eyed boy! "I am sorry…do not be angry, brother."

"I am not angry, I just find you ridiculous sometimes." He reached forward and unclasped the leather strap around the other's chest, "Come, let us get you out of these clothes before you get a cold and I have to deal with that as well." Next to come off was the hood that usually covered soft, brown hair and honey coloured eyes; Altaïr hiccupped once and wiped his face again in an attempt to recover some of his dignity. He had always been scared of water, he hated rain and just the thought of the treacherous liquid filled his mind with images of struggling for air and sinking into the black. Malik was the only one who knew just how afraid he was of water, Malik didn't laugh at him or tease him about it and he was always there to make sure Altaïr would never drown. The younger man undid his white robes quickly and shrugged out of the sopping material, a chuckle caught his attention and he blushed brightly. "How did you get so thoroughly soaked in a puddle?"

Altaïr frowned and threw his robe at the man, "Shut up! At least I did not cut myself shaving this morning and run around like a headless chicken!"

"That is because you do not grow hair on your face…I sometimes wonder with how you act if there is any hair on your – "

"Malik!" the older teen laughed again at the near squeak produced out of Altaïr's mouth. He was a late bloomer for sure, his voice had not long cracked and often sounded more husky than anything else – except the squeaks that came only when he was embarrassed. He knew it annoyed Altaïr the same way it had annoyed him when his voice and body begun to change, Malik had been relieved when his voice finally settled into a deep baritone – Altaïr had complained at first that he sounded strange, then later admitted that he liked it and hoped he would sound similar in a few years. Malik held up his hands in surrender and tried not to laugh at the indignant scowl on the other's face as he sat down on an empty barrel. Altaïr continued to strip his clothing in silence, growling irritably when the wet material of his grey top refused to peel from his skin and got caught around his head, forcing the teen to pull it down again.

Malik stood up and placed his hands on the hem of the shirt and slid them up the other's body. He twitched slightly at the feel of Altaïr's body under his palms – when had soft skin turned into firm muscle? His dark eyes traced over tanned skin and he marvelled at the almost defined musculature of the other; he felt a little jealous that someone two years his junior was just as toned as him. "Malik?" he looked up to meet honey coloured eyes and swallowed guiltily. Without realising it, he had been rubbing his thumbs along Altaïr's ribs, he pulled the top roughly up and off of him and went back to idly standing about; telling Altaïr that he was as graceful as a dead fish when the teen nearly tripped over his own boots. His eyes, however, drifted back to him and watched with fascination as dexterous fingers undid the tied of his trousers – he held in a surprised groan as the falling material revealed the 'V' of firm abdominal muscles. He looked away before anything more was revealed and absently bit down on his hand.

What was wrong with him? Surely he wasn't that horny that he was admiring Altaïr in an abandoned stable; and why now? He must have seen the other bare thousands of times. When had Altaïr's body even changed so much? He could have sworn that just the other night the teen's body was slim with no definition what so ever and he was as desirable as a woman with herpes! That had been in the dim light of their room though, not like now. Now the sun was filtering through the damaged roof and highlighting every curve, dip and groove of the other's young, lithe body! Bloody sun and its blatant worship of the young male physique – like some sort of fan girl! "Are you listening to me?" Malik looked up and made sure that he made eye contact only, he had not realised Altaïr had been speaking, "Obviously not…the cloth behind you, can you pass it to me so I can dry off?"

The dark eyed teen snatched the cloth, which looked more like a small blanket, and held it out Altaïr – who had turned his back for some reason, which wasn't so that Malik could stare at arse and bite his lip as his dick twitched suddenly. How Malik hated being eighteen and single! He stalked over to the younger and threw the cloth over his shoulders in an effort to hide the other from his eyes, but as his hands rested on warm skin he couldn't help but rub the cloth along his arms. Altaïr groused how he wasn't a child that needed to be dried by another. "Well you were barely able undress yourself." He tried to concentrate on his methods of air assassination, the lecture his sword tutor had given earlier that day – anything to keep the semi hard erection he was sporting from growing harder. Now what was it he said? Always have a good grip, treat it often with oil and always sheath it properly…stupid euphemisms!

Altaïr gasped in shock and Malik froze. "W-what are…ngh!" he groaned in surprise when the older continues to run his hands along his bare chest, fingers brushing over a taut nipple, "Malik!" his voice cracked slightly at the strange attention and the young novice found himself leaning into the touch. He could hardly be blamed for wanting more of the burning sensation, he had been feeling needy for months, sometimes he'd just look at Malik getting ready for bed and become hard. This had to be another wet dream, another dream where he would wake up with sticky sheets and sneak off away from the cause. Teeth grazed the side of his neck and he couldn't help the breathless plea, "Make it stop."

Malik stopped abruptly and pulled away as if burned – he should not be doing this to the teen! He was too young to be messed around with, Malik wasn't even sure if Altaïr knew what he was doing. "I am sorry…I…I was not thinking straight." He secured the cloth around the other and stepped away with his hands gripping in his hair irately. So what if he was hard as a rock and horny for his best friend – he had no right to take advantage of a teen who suffered from erotic dreams nearly every night and practically fucked his mattress. He stopped pulling his hair and settled on leaning against the stable wall to try and will his erection away, "I do not know what came over me, brother."

"Why did you stop!" Altaïr demanded as he grabbed Malik's shoulder and spun him around, "I did not want you to stop touching me – just make it stop aching!" he took the older novice's hand and wrapped it around his turgid length with a near whimper, "Please Malik, you made it like this." He crushed their bodies together and left sloppy, inexperienced kisses along Malik's jaw; all the while working on loosening his robes.

"Why am I always taking care of your problems?" he gripped firmly around Altaïr and stroked him only a few times before the teen mewled needily and fell against his chest, "training, puddles – your cock." Altaïr whined into his neck at the teasing, "And all you ever give me is grief; what will you do for me?"

"Anything!" his fingers succeeded in removing the leather strap, belt and sash from Malik, the hood was next, followed by his robe and grey top. Their skin tingled and burned at every point of contact, Malik's fisting making the inexperienced youth's knees buckle. He had never touched himself before – not like this. He only ever seemed to get like this when he dreamed and to actually be awake and receiving the delicious friction was sending him mad! Gripping his trousers, Altaïr pulled Malik away from the wall and manoeuvred him over to the haystack in the corner where he pushed him down. "You are making it worse."

Malik chuckled as Altaïr straddled his lap and then looked unsure of himself. The teen always seemed to rush into things without thinking about his next move; he had not idea what to do now. He stared down at Malik, ignoring the decidedly smug look on his face and concentrating on the hard, smooth skin under his hands – so similar to his own. but Malik was harder, he was comfortable in his own skin and wasn't awkward like Altaïr often felt…it was comforting to run his hands up and down the other's chest and make him gasp pleasantly at the sensation. "Kiss me, Altaïr." He leant down to hover his mouth over Malik's, unsure of what he was doing but eager all the same. Malik took Altaïr's face and pulled him down to crush their lips together, Altaïr moaned into his mouth when he felt his lips sting – his new scar tingling as their mouths meshed together and an eager tongue slipped in, tasting the newly mended skin.

"Malik," Altaïr gasped as he pulled away, "I…I stole one of your books…just to find out how to stop this aching on my own. I want…I want to…" he blushed deeply as he choked on his words; he wanted Malik, he dreamed about Malik, he watched Malik and all he could think about was stupid Malik and his dark eyes! He hated not knowing what to do about his sudden attraction and there was no one he trusted to ask about what was happening to his body – why his cock rose every time he watched Malik nibble the end of his pen at study! Wasn't he supposed to lust after the women in the garden? Wasn't that why every boy his age was sent to one of the women?

"What is it you want? Which book?" Malik asked as he sucked gently on the skin of the other teen's neck.

Altaïr sat up in frustration and rocked his hips against Malik's with a loud keen. He could feel the hard length pushing against his rear and he stared down at the other with a lost look, "I want…Malik…I want you inside!" he blurted out. Malik's eyes widened and he gripped the other's hips to stop the rocking; that book. He should have hidden it further than under his bed! He had been with women before, enjoyed their attention and learned eagerly how to please them but…he had caught two of his Brothers kissing one night and wondered how two men could get pleasure from one another. So he had found a book that described every conceivable way of tearing pleasure from ones body – including same sex pairings. "M-Malik? I can do this for you…" Altaïr whispered not certain if he had said something completely wrong.

"You want me to fuck you? Like I would with a woman?" he sat up a little further, biting back a moan when Altaïr's heavy weight shifted against his manhood, "if you want something more than a hand you should go to the garden…I-I do not know what to do with a man…I should not even be doing this! I am supposed to take care of you." He wanted to escape; this was too much to ask in return from the younger novice! Altaïr was smart, he would probably become an Assassin before he hit twenty and Malik was sure he would never catch up to the sometimes arrogant teen. But in these situations – when Altaïr was unsure and maybe a little frightened – Malik was supposed to keep him from harm. This was all going haywire and he couldn't do it! Malik pushed the other off of his lap and stood up on shaky legs to collect his clothing, "This should not have happened." He untangled his grey top hastily - barely getting it the right side before he heard the movement of hay and a whimper.

He turned, praying internally that he would not have to deal with the cry baby side that Altaïr rarely displayed and ended up dropping his clothing all together in shock. His eyes widened considerably and he swallowed thickly at what he saw – how was he supposed to deal with this side of Altaïr? The teen was on his back, legs splayed wide, one hand attentively stroking up and down his swollen length, the other hand toying with an erect nipple, his eyes slitted so that the barest hint of gold shone through and his bottom lip captured between his teeth. He was presented like a gift and Malik could practically feel his trousers straining at the seams as his own erection begged to be free. "Please…please, Malik…please." His eyes had closed completely and his head rolled side to side as he begged over and over and over for Malik to come back to him.

Malik had never been one to be bullied into something. He was firm with Kadar, he never let anyone pick on him, he never procrastinated and he never deviated from what he believed in. he was well disciplined, mature and always sensible. So he had no idea how he had ended up naked with Altaïr's legs hitched up onto his hips, his heels digging into his back and trying to pull him forward – into him. Something had drawn him back to Altaïr's side, made him stroked tanned skin, lick kiss and nip at each and every inch he could until finally he'd ended up between the younger's legs. Altaïr was sucking and nipping at his left shoulder, urging him to hurry up and enter him but something felt wrong – missing. He had read the book and it had said two men could find great pleasure together but there was something else he was supposed to do. It made him hesitate and in turn frustrated Altaïr to the point of flipping their positions roughly and grabbing Malik's penis with determination. "You are killing me with your slowness! Stop thinking for once!" he leaned his head back to that wonderful spot on the other's shoulder and without further ado he pushed his body down onto Malik's.

There were two very powerful sensations running through the darker teen at that moment: pleasure. So beautifully intense it was maddening how no woman had ever made him feel so – there were no words! And pain. A searing, burning, slow tear of pain clawing down his chest and exploding in his left shoulder. It took a moment to separate the pleasant buzz to find out why he was hurting. Altaïr had clamped his teeth down on his skin so hard that blood was almost pouring and his blunt nails had left stinging gouges down his body. The younger teen seemed to be struggling for breath, his chest heaving against Malik's and whining escaping in short bursts. It was then that Malik remembered why he had hesitated; Altaïr had not been prepared, he had not been stretched and they had used nothing make the passage easier, not to mention Altaïr had practically dropped himself halfway down Malik's shaft like it was a race. "It is alright, Altaïr…come on, breathe – look at me"

Malik took his face and coaxed him into releasing the vice like grip of his teeth. He held his face level with his and swore under his breath at the sight of his expression – pained was an understatement! His eyes were screwed up, tears literally pouring out; finding some gap to escape, lips pulled back over his clenched teeth, nearly creaking under the strain and Malik's blood was smeared over his chin. "Altaïr, brother…look at me please!" he ordered desperately, the way the other seemed completely frozen was scaring him. "Breathe, Altaïr." A few more of the whining gasps tore from his throat and his eyes – with what looked like great effort – opened just barely. "I am going to pull out; relax for me."

A broken wail came from him as Malik tried to move, "No! Please! Please do not move!" he cried, his face dropping into the crook of Malik's shoulder, "It hurts! It hurts so much! Please, Malik! Please do not – " the older novice forced his mouth over his and ran his hands through the teen's hair, his shoulders, back – everywhere he could. Altaïr sobbed into him and Malik tried to soothe him as best he could, tried to distract him from the movement of his hips; without any luck. He turned them back to their original position and groaned at the tight heat around himself, ashamed that he could still feel so good through the other's anguish. He stared at him for a long moment, what was he supposed to do if he could not move? Chewing his lip nervously he thought of a shaky plan at best and reached between them to the flaccid length of the one under him, carefully pumping the organ and trailing kisses all over Altaïr's face. "M-Malik?" his voice was cracking embarrassingly again but he wanted to know what the other was doing.

"I will not move, I promise. You were relaxed when you first took me in, remember? So I will make you feel good again…it will be alright." He sucked on his bottom lip, tongue teasing the scar and free hand caressing up and down his ribs, "Just take deep breaths and it will get better." He was never doing this again, Altaïr could spread himself out and rut against his own hand as much as he wanted but Malik would never do this again – ever! His hips were in agony, thighs tight and locked as he desperately refused to thrust the rest of the way in as he wanted to. It seemed like forever but something almost pleasurable clawed its way out of Altaïr's throat, his cock slowly but very definitely beginning to fill again as his arousal returned bit by bit. Finally a moan came from him and Malik released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. The older teen yelled in surprise at the slight rock of Altaïr's hips against his, his cock being swallowed greedily instead of leaving, "A-Altaïr?"

He peeked up at Malik through his lashes and gave a weak smile, "It does not hurt as much…it feels…just a little deeper - !" Altaïr's mouth opened wide in a silent scream, his back arched impossibly and he forced Malik forward to the hilt. Malik groaned at the sensation and the simply blissful look on the other – he had read about this part, it had been described like reaching climax but not. Despite his promise not to move, Malik gave an unsure thrust forward and Altaïr's head thrashed side to side and he grabbed handfuls of hay as if trying to anchor himself to the ground. "Malik! Oh, oh, Malik! I – I - !" it was as if every single part of Altaïr locked up at once, pulled so tight that he wondered if he would snap and shatter into a thousand tiny pieces – it was like drowning in the deepest pool. All he could do was scream Malik's name as he shattered.

Malik couldn't stop the long, continuous moan coming so deep from his chest he could do nothing to silence it as Altaïr's body clamped down hard on him. His hand and stomach felt scolded as the younger man came screaming his name and clenching around his now furiously pounding hips, until Malik had his own climax ripped from his body. The dark eyed novice shivered violently as he collapsed on the other, somehow hearing over his deafening heartbeat the sound of his name being mewled over and over. Shaky arms coming up and around his middle, holding him tightly as if his life depended on it. "I have you, Altaïr…I have you."

00

Kadar watched curiously as his big brother carried Altaïr into their room on his back, the younger sleeping soundly against the teen and snuggled close. "What happened?" he asked as he placed the book he was reading on his lap, "Is he alright, Malmal?"

"Yes, he fell in a puddle." Malik smirked slightly as he put him to bed and decided he would make him some of the tea he liked so much when he woke up. He deserved some pampering after all. Malik leant down and kissed Altaïr's forehead gently, ruffling his brown hair before turning to look at his little brother curiously. "What have you been doing?"

"Reading!" he cheered happily, "I do not understand all of the words but this book has lots of strange pictures." Little Kadar watched his brother smile at him and then settle on his own bed, he looked exhausted. "Brother?"

"Hmm?"

"What is a prostate?" Malik was definitely going to have to stop hiding things under the bed.

000

Yes…Teenage Novice Malik and Altaïr and their first time. I made Altaïr a little bit of a cry baby in this because I think he would have been a rather sweet child before he got all arrogant, and I like the idea of Malik having to baby-sit him! This fiction is the result of this picture: http:/yaoi./view/698067/ How I derived smut from this…I do not know but Doubleleaf = epic!