He was sick of seeing that damn piece of Eden! All day and most of the night it held Altaïr's attentions, it made the man abstain from eating, drinking – talking! It was like he was becoming drawn to the damn thing and he was content to be there…he was content to push everyone away in favour of the stupid little ball. It was one of those rare moments when the Assassin had to leave it sitting on his bedroom desk – unprotected – that Malik decided he had had enough. He was going to do what Altaïr had said he would – he was going to smash it into a thousand tiny pieces and scatter it to the wind. Snatching the ball from the desk the Dai gave it one last glare and threw it against the opposite wall. Instead of debris he was blinded by bright white light.

Altaïr stretched his arms above his head as he walked back to his room, finally he could feel his body again, the constant sitting and staring really was not a wise idea – especially with how angry it was making his lover. He opened the door to their shared room and froze in the doorway. Malik was in a heap on the ground, unmoving and seemingly not breathing. "Malik?" the Assassin moved quickly beside him and gathered the Dai into his arms, "Malik! Wake up!" he shook the man slightly, alarmed when his head simply fell limply back, "No…no…Malik!" Altaïr looked around the room helplessly for help but no one game to the top floors unless there was a problem. He held tightly to Malik's limp body and buried his face into the man's neck, there was no breathing, there was not even a pulse in his throat and this acknowledgment made it so that the Assassin could not even get strength into his legs to get up off the floor for help.

How had this happened? Wasn't Malik about to go bathe when Altaïr left the room? He was fine then, wasn't he? He had been griping about the apple and giving him a lecture on obsession. "Malik…" his could feel his lips trembling as he mumbled the man's name over and over into his dark skin, the constriction of his throat and stinging in his eyes made his curl further around the prone form. This made no sense, what had – his eyes zeroed in on the apple laying only feet away. He had left that on his desk…why was it… "You fool. You stupid moronic bastard!" knowing that the artefact was the caused of this cut deeply into his chest, knowing that if he had paid more attention, if he had destroyed it as he had promised – Malik would not be dead.

The master Assassin's sobbing soon caught the attention of someone else on the top floor, the other moved cautiously to the room and peered in through the door, "Altaïr?" the man's head shot up and around to stare at the intruder and for a long moment he just stared in disbelief. The intruder was also surprised to see the tears streaming down tan cheeks and the most forlorn expression he had ever seen. Altaïr looked down at the body in his arms and at the one at the door – he was holding Malik in his arms and yet…the Dai was stood in front of him. Malik approached him carefully and knelt beside him; his fingers reaching to wipe away the glistening tracks on his lover's face, "what is this?"

"I – i…I thought it was you? Or are you a ghost?"

Malik blinked dumbly for a few moments before pressing his mouth to Altaïr's, "I am living, you novice…but what is this?" he touched the skin of the copy and pulled away as if burned, "It is warm…Altaïr, what is happening here?"

Altaïr laid the body down gently and held onto Malik's robes tightly, assuring himself that this was his Malik, his living beautiful Malik. "Did you touch the apple? I left it on the desk but when I arrived it was on the floor as were you – or not you."

"I threw it at the wall and it blinded me – I was uncertain of what it might do so I staggered out until I could see again."

"Why would you do that? You know how dangerous this thing is!" Altaïr pointed at the body on the floor angrily, "That could have been you! I thought it was! I thought I could trust you not to do anything stupid…I thought you were dead…"

"I was sick of watching you kill yourself with that thing!" Malik growled back in annoyance – was his actual death going to be the only thing to stop Altaïr playing with the apple? "Will you listen to me now? Will you stop ignoring everything?" the Dai kissed him softly again, his fingers rubbing a wet cheek soothingly. Altaïr leaned into the touch, his mind reeling at the fact that he could still have Malik and that his heart was fixing itself with every press of lips. The fingers tracing up the back of his neck made him shiver in delight more than the ones on his face… Altaïr pulled away in alarm and stared at the empty sleeve on Malik's left. Why were there two hands on him?

Malik stared at the figure behind Altaïr, his double was sat up and slowly tracing the skin of Altaïr's neck. It was strange to look into his own dark eyes and watch himself lean in and flick his tongue where he had just touched; Malik held Altaïr still so that he would not shock the thing. "The apple can make copies of the person who uses it…it can make copies of dead men. They do not feel pain and killing them is the only way I have found to make them vanish – ah!" Malik glared at his copy as it bit roughly at his lover. "They do not usually act on their own; they follow the will of their master."

"Well, I was thinking about two things when I grabbed the stupid thing." He admitted as he pushed the copy away from Altaïr, "Killing you slowly and fucking you hard." The Dai stared at himself carefully and a slow smirk slid across his face, "it seems rude to simply stab him, he is awfully attractive do you not think?" pulling Altaïr up off the floor, Malik made him sit on their bed and the copy followed eagerly, pushing Altaïr to lay down whilst it worked on his belt. "He seems to like you."

Altaïr was tempted to push the clone away but it looked, smelt and felt like Malik – how could he deny the touches? "What are you thinking, Malik?"

"I am thinking that you need to stay away from that apple for a while. I am thinking that I am sick of being pushed aside and I think that your heart is still beating so hard against your chest that it is painful." He pulled his clone up by the hood of its robe and held it against himself, "I am thinking I am going to make you so tired that you will not even think about the ball." Malik had never thought he would want to share the other Assassin with anyone else but this new idea had him quite excited, without moving himself, the clone turned and kissed him softly. It was odd to kiss a man that wasn't Altaïr, after ten years of getting used to the rough stubble of his face and the smooth scar on usually chapped lips – this was odd. His own mouth held that sharp dominance that Altaïr very rarely showed him, his own tongue snaked and tasted and forced their kiss deeper, a moan falling from one of them as the awkwardness passed.

Watching the two Malik's kissing made Altaïr shiver. He wanted Malik to touch him, to prove he truly was alive and that this was not some sort of a trick. He sat up and tugged on the robes of the clone, pulling it to the bed beside him and then pulling down his Malik for what could only be described as a desperate kiss. His hands rested against the Dai's chest, a sigh escaping him when he felt the strong beating heart beneath firm skin and he could only pull him tighter until he was atop Malik's lap and his ribs ached at the pressure. "I will not ignore you again – not if it will make you do stupid things." Lips mouthed across his neck from behind and Altaïr was again torn. It wasn't Malik, this was not his Malik and yet he wanted to welcome the touches. "Is this not odd? To have something that looks like you with its hand rubbing against my crotch?"

"I do not mind it." He answered simply, he had managed to unclasp Altaïr's belt and dropped it on the stone floor with a heavy thump, "He is not a bad kisser." With another smirk Malik pushed his younger lover into the waiting arms of his double, enjoying the strangled mewl that escaped Altaïr's mouth when it was suddenly devoured by the other. He made quick work of the master's clothes, once the robes were undone and the white top beneath lifted, his copy wasted no time in caressing the bared skin; its fingers pressing into firm muscle and raking its nails across stiffened nipples only made Malik like his idea more. The clone knew what to do, knew what Altaïr liked best and it did not hesitate to display these skills – albeit a little too roughly. Moving forward toward the copy made it so that Altaïr was sandwiched between them, the tanned Assassin wrapped his arms around his lover with another moan but was disappointed to be ignored, Malik grabbed the clone's chin and made it cease the bruise it was making below Altaïr's ear, "Gently." He told it with deliberate firmness, "or I will make you vanish."

It seemed to understand and Altaïr sighed when the nails left the bloody gouges they were creating. "It must be the murderous intent you have for me." The younger Assassin said with humour in his eyes, "Get my trousers off, Malik, please before I burst through the seams…one of you is bad enough but two…two is driving me insane!" Malik unlaced the clothing lazily, smiling when another hand slid down and grasped the painful looking erection he had just released, letting the other pleasure his lover Malik went about removing every piece of Altaïr's clothing. The body between the two bucked wildly as he was stroked with quick and precise movements, the smell of Malik was everywhere, the man's hands and lips were attacking him relentlessly all over, one gentle and the other just a little too hard – an odd mixture that was making his tired brain and body become fevered in arousal. It had been weeks since he had last been intimate with the Dai, weeks where he was too tired to make advances and Malik too angry to accept his touches. "I want you – I want you now! Do not bother to prepare me because I will burn up before you re done!" he snapped abruptly after the clone bit across his shoulder.

Malik snorted silently at the request, Altaïr had never been patient enough for fingering ever since he found he could take him in with a tolerable level of pain. Still, Malik would never take him with nothing at all, the older man reached into the draw beside their bed and pulled out a well used jar of oil, Altaïr snatched it from him and with trembling fingers opened the lid. Realising that the clone would be in the way, Malik allowed Altaïr to pull his trousers down and slick up his length with the oil as he coaxed the other to move position until Altaïr's thighs were spread apart over the double's and he was leant back against it. "Enough, Altaïr." The honey eyed man released him reluctantly and settled on letting the clone kiss him hungrily whilst Malik pushed against his eager entrance.

Tearing away from the mouth that had held his captive, Altaïr moaned heatedly at the uncomfortable pressure against his body, Malik glanced up at him for barely a second to make sure he was alright before continuing to watch his cock sink into his lover, the hole stretching and swallowing him into Altaïr's body. "Hurts." The Assassin gasped through clenched teeth.

"I know." Came the simple reply as Malik settled himself to the hilt; he leant forward to rest his forehead against Altaïr's and waited for him to relax around the intrusion. Altaïr arched his back at the feel of the clone's hand renewing its efforts on his manhood, he had nearly forgotten that the comfortable warmth he was laying against was another Malik, forgot that the hot breath against his neck and firm prodding against his back was almost human. He cried out as his ever move caused Malik to rub that bundle of nerves inside him and he nearly cried in relief as the familiar slide and pull of friction began within him, easing the burning he felt in every muscle. Moving against one another, the two didn't notice the frown on their intruders face, the clone watched the two bodies roll and rub against the other with something akin to jealousy. Even more so when Malik's mouth slanted over Altaïr's and their tongues began to dance in time to the jerky thrusts that caused the tanned man to be crushed into the double's chest and push against its own aching length.

With the pressure against his prostate Altaïr did not note the missing hand stroking him or take any notice of the shifting body behind him until he felt the painful press of the other. He hissed in warning and his blunt nails dug into Malik's shoulder blades ad he leant into the man; Malik felt his lover's body tense violently and stopped his thrusting hips to find out what had happened. He glared at his double once he realised its plan and he simply shook his head at it – this was not something he had prepared Altaïr for and he was too far gone to even consider doing it, "Can you blame him?" Altaïr asked shakily against Malik's shoulder, "He has to watch us and not get any attention…" he turned his head to meet the dark eyes of the clone and he shivered again at the heated look he received. It wore the hungry look Malik often sported when he wanted satisfaction and the small whine escaping its lips made Altaïr's chest clench – he would never deny the other anything. "L-let him…I will get used to it."

The real Malik looked at him with alarm, "Altaïr! It might just tear you open! You said the damn things do not have any real sense of life – it is hardly going to sulk if you refuse!" unconsciously he pulled Altaïr closer to his clothed chest and continued to glare at the clone, "Let it deal with the ache."

"Malik…" placing both his hands on Malik's cheeks and kissing the corner of his mouth chastely, Altaïr pulled his attention away from the other, "I would never make you endure such an ache…I can not let something that looks like you – that essentially is you – suffer in silence. It will be uncomfortable at first but I will live."

The Dai growled in annoyance but did not stop his double when Altaïr nodded to it. He felt the Assassin cling to him, his hands fisting into the front of his robes, as another slicked member began to push against his already full entrance. The feeling against his own length was a little uncomfortable but the feeling was more pleasurable than anything. Altaïr yelled when the head slipped in along side Malik and his breath hitched as he was stretched farther than ever before – it hurt. It hurt more than he could usually tolerate and Malik made the clone stop to let the initial burn wear off, "Do you want to stop? Is it too much, Altaïr?" his lips brushed the soft tawny hair that rested against his neck, he could feel the hard puffs of air in the crook of his neck and he knew he should have refused.

Finally Altaïr found his voice and lifted his head, "It feels too much…though, I do not want to stop." Licking his lips nervously, Altaïr rested his head against Malik's and closed his eyes as he felt the other Malik force his way in slowly – seemingly understanding that this was painful for him. It seemed to be a long process, every time Malik saw the pain become too much on Altaïr's face he made them stop, he would not continue until the whimpering breaths calmed and quieted. When Altaïr's prostate was hit, the man moaned wantonly and shifted his hips for more of that feeling, "So full…I think you are bigger than him though." Malik chuckled along with Altaïr's breathy laugh and he wondered how much pain Altaïr was in – he could see it so plainly across the other's face, even if Altaïr looked and acted to be fine. "Move."

"Are you sure?"

"Move!" he ordered irritably. Malik hesitated but his copy didn't hold the same reservations as it began to rock its hips and caused both men to moan pleasurably. Altaïr leaned his head back to rest against the clone's shoulder and wound his left hand into its hair, his right hand reached for Malik's collar and pulled him forward to trail kisses along his jaw and down his neck. The three rocked together carefully, a hand on each of Altaïr's hips guiding him against their movements, just when Malik was about to give up getting anything out of Altaïr the man seemed to burst. His mouth opened in long languid moans, whines and mewls whilst his whole body seemed to snap to life. He moved erratically, not knowing whether to thrust down on the hot lengths inside him or against Malik's hard stomach for more friction against his cock – it didn't matter as long as he could feel that blinding pleasure as his sweet spot was plundered mercilessly.

They became soon became a mass of limbs and lips and tongues, sweat slicked bodies sliding and slipping as fingers tried to anchor themselves to something – anything! They were sure the entire fortress could hear the ecstasy filed, near wailing of their master as he begged for more and moaned at the feeling of being torn apart and put back together at the same time. The feeling confusing his lust addled mind as all he could see, hear, feel, smell and taste was Malik – it was too much and he knew he couldn't stand it for another minute. One Malik was enough, one Malik couldn't rip his mind and soul to shreds, one Malik was all he needed and he knew he could never love more than one Malik. His fingers scrabbled for purchase on the back of Malik's neck and he sought out the man's mouth desperately, wanted to catch his eyes and hold all of his attention before he burned to ash, "Malik, Malik – please, Malik!" the Dai heard the gasping pleas and tried to kiss him but Altaïr pulled his lips away, "Only you…" his breath hitched painfully as his body began to contract. "I love only you."

Malik's eyes widened at the confession but there was nothing he could do or say as Altaïr called his name and came hard against his stomach, the younger Assassin's passage clamping down impossibly tight around the two men buried inside him and causing both Malik's to climax with a loud moan. It was long moments until the stinging in Malik's back brought him slowly to reality, his orgasm leaving him limp and tired – making him feel the skin Altaïr had ripped across his shoulders. The clone had vanished and Malik could only guess that it had exhausted its power or simply destroyed itself through pleasure – who knew…but what a charming way to die. Altaïr was silent against him, his body unmoving but his breathing laboured enough to let Malik know he had not died through pleasure overload; the man moved them to lay down on the bed and studied his loved quickly to make sure that he was alright.

Altaïr was completely passed out. Something that had only happened twice before to him, only this time Malik did not feel smug or proud for making him faint. He felt heavy, nauseous almost as his brain supplied the words that the other had said, 'I love only you' Malik could only imagine it had been a spur of the moment thing. A result of too many sensations smashing together and making him lose his mind. Surely he did not mean it…it was a mistake. It had to be! The younger man groaned quietly as his eyelashes began to flutter rapidly and flashes of gold caught the light, he looked blearily at Malik for a long time, both silent and unmoving. "You told me you loved me…" Malik breathed out once he thought Altaïr could comprehend his words.

"…I…I do." Malik smiled and shook his head, it was ridiculous – those words should have been able to make his head beat faster and his mouth grin in a ridiculous way. Should have...instead they made him feel ill to his stomach and he tore his hand away from Altaïr's when the man tried to touch him. Altaïr blinked in surprise when Malik left the bed and headed for the door, "Malik?" he called after him in confusion.

"You make me sick…" he muttered without looking back, "Please recall that you have some actual work to do and that there is more to life than the apple."

000