I don't own anything. All rights go to their rightful owners. This story may contain spoilers from the game "Assassin's Creed: Syndicate" and the book "Assassin's Creed: Underworld". This is set after the events of AC Syndicate.

The smut has returned! Woooooooooohoooooo!

After spending a week on the rag and a day and half working alcohol out of my system, I decided I was thoroughly frustrated by the lack of contact that I've received from Jayadeep Mir as of late. Besides a couple of slightly-too-long kisses, I barely laid a hand on the man that is my fiancé. Too suborn to submit to my own hand, frustration continued to brew inside me. Considering I had spent too long suppressing my emotions for the assassin, and with our work constantly life-threatening, every moment I spend with Henry is to be enjoyed to the fullest.

Nevertheless, after awakening to an empty bed yet again this week, I hoped that I would have my way with him by sundown. As late afternoon settled in the sky above, clouds releasing bucketfuls of rain by the second, I traveled back to the train. I sprint to the train tracks through the downpour, soaked in London rainwater as I emerge from the world outside.

"Mr Green?" I call, the habit that is calling him so formally still sticking to me at times. Stepping deeper into the train car, I find Henry dancing a pen across a blank page.

He smiles at my sudden arrival, stating, "Miss Frye, you're soaking wet."

"It's raining dogs and cats out there." pulling off my Assassin robes and hanging them up to dry. I lay my gun and kukri on the tabletop he works at, traces of blood still coating the edge of the blade. He tries to hide his grimace.

Clearing his throat, he questions, "You encountered trouble?"

"I was defending one of Jacob's Rooks." I explain, referring to the situation that I encountered a little over an hour ago. "A small group of remaining Blighters had a blade to his throat. Poor man, he was frightened out of his skin." loosening the ties that keep my hair in place, I pull the dark locks from their confines and squeeze droplets of water from the ends. Securing my hair back into place, I find Henry's eyes watching me closely. Glancing over at his work, I ask, "Have you discovered anything more on the Piece of Eden?"

"I'm afraid not. I was writing to inform George Westhouse of our engagement." the name is familiar, the man an assassin that I had grown around due to his close friendship with Father. When Henry had spoke of his past life, before he had met me, he spoke of knowing George, as well as my father. "I thought perhaps you'd like him to attend the occasion."

"That would be wonderful." I tell him, pulling my mind away from past memories. My hand rests against his shoulder as he rises from the chair, his dark eyes piercing my own with a fascinated gaze. Connecting our lips, I remind myself of the promise that I silently hope he keeps true.

When I can no longer taste ale on your breath, then, I will make love to you.

I blindly reach for his hand, our fingers lacing together. He presses the other hand against me, his fingertips brushing against a revealed part of my stomach. The kiss becomes fervent, my movements carefully selected to show I was, too, as in control as he was. Before he had rejected my advances, likely telling himself that having his way with me after I had been drinking would be taking advantage of me, though now he seemed to reveal profound passion. I release his lips, breathing deeply.

"You no longer taste of ale." he remarks, a suggestive smile dangling cautiously from his lips, as if at any moment I would push him away. As if.

I hum against him, both breathing the same air, my voice low and lustful, "Then make true to your word, Henry." I murmur, my hand trailing up his arm and towards the crook of his neck. My hands, rough and calloused from years of handling weaponry, feel odd against the softness of the elder assassin's skin, whom had always disliked such violent approaches to situations. Through our differences, we found likenesses, discovering that we had feelings for each other that ran deeper than what my father would have preferred.

I'm starting to think Father didn't know everything about everything, I had decided one night. He certainly didn't know everything about Henry.

With my eyes glazed with desire, I pull at the cloth that lies between our skin. He sheds himself of his Assassin robes, the buckles and design foreign to me, as I remove my hidden blade. Wouldn't want that to activate during sex, I quip internally. When we both finish removing our weapons from our bodies, I chuckle at the table of items.

"Smoke bombs, throwing knives, hidden blades...aren't we the pair?" I muse, allowing my lighter side to shine through.

"If it means I get to return to you, Evie..." he smiles softly, "Then it must be worth the extra carrying weight." we move to the bed, with Henry laying atop the tidied covers, as I settle myself above his midriff. I kiss his lips deeply as his hand skims over my breasts, settling when it finds my centre. Releasing him, I groan, his mouth hastily finding my neck and suckling on it teasingly. The assassin eases a finger inside of me as his thumb continues to increase pressure on the bundle of nerves, my thoughts quickly becoming driven by arousal and desire.

My breathing is shallow as I gasp his name, his escapade never stopping as I'm pulled towards climax, release washing over my body as the words I breathe turn unintelligible. Between the lips attacking my neck and the hands stimulating my vulnerability, the pleasure feels too much for me to bare, my nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders as I fight for reality. Grasping Henry's arm, he seems to understand my plea to stop, carefully easing himself from within my depths.

"Are you alright, Evie?" he utters, concern in his tone.

I take a moment to regain my breath before responding, "Sensitive, is all, Henry. That was intensely pleasurable." my words seem to reassure him, sweat covering our skin and my scent looming in the air. Behind me, I feel the hardness that is Henry's arousal, the sight seeming to be highly enjoyable for him. The control feeds my ego somewhat.

Taking him inside me slowly, I find myself whining in pleasure. With my increasingly tired muscles evident, Henry reverses our positions, setting a slow pace that allows me to adjust to the still fairly new experience. I loose myself before I can process my second climax, the feeling of my orgasm leaving the assassin groaning into my lips, his own spilling into me as the frustration within us dissolves.

My skin shining with sweat, my lips puffy and my desire satisfied, I drift into sleep in the arms of my lover.