Hey all! Felt like doing a one-shot for Altaïr and Maria, since they have gotten hardly any love from me, (cough* The Paths We Choose failed to update *cough).

Anyways, I asked around for a prompt, and I got several results, so I may develop several one-shots under separated titles, or a might just make a compilation under this title.

Anyways, message me if you have a prompt in mind, and I will do my best to service your whims :p lol I can't believe I said that…

Side note… the "stockings" that Maria wears, are in fact socks. In medieval times, women could wear "stockings" that went to about knee height, because of the length of their skirts, (no one would ever know). Also, I did read somewhere that women's socks, or stockings, could be held up by garters…

Hehehe Altaïr, you won't know what hit you X3

Standard disclaimer: Ubisoft owns all the hot Assassins, not me :(

Remember, to read is human, to review is divine.

(Sorry Alexander, I had too :D)

Altaïr slumped down off of his weary horse, the uneven and labored breaths from both mount and rider left puffs of steam in the cool night air. The Master Assassin hastily tossed the reigns to one of the journeyman near the stall, wincing at the tearing sensation of several deep wounds opening again as he turned.

Fatigued from the three day's hard ride from Jerusalem, Altaïr grimaced at the stiffness in his legs and back. The ache spread to burden his upper back, increased by the hot sears that stabbed into him from several knife wounds. Over the course of his mission, Altaïr had managed to get in a more than desirable amount of skirmishes– his body had taken quite a beating in the process. Part of the reason being the general lack of space; several times he had seen a guard swing his blade to cut him down, only to see one of the guard's own men step in the way, taking the brunt of the hit. As amusing as it had seemed on occasion, Altaïr too had fallen victim to the close quarters, finding himself cornered a few times. Unfortunately for the guards, this only prompted an animal-like response from the Master, using the wall to his advantage, at times able to use height to his advantage. After a while, it would seem that the guards had grown wary of the hooded vistor, and had doubled the number of archers on the city roofs. The majority of his injuries stemming from several arrows he had taken to the exposed regions of his back as he ran. His shoulders sagged, no longer able to endure the strain required to hold them back and down; he had given up on his posture. His only objective now, would be getting back to Masyaf in time to pass out on his bed.

Maria had been pacing around the fortress since the sun had set, pretending to busy herself with folding and refolding clothes, dusting, and whatever else would keep her mind occupied until Altaïr returned. After spending several frustrating minutes brushing her unruly curls, she decided to take a bath in an effort to calm them down with the fragrant oils.

After drawing her bath, she walked over to the shelves lined with coloured glass vials, perusing the selection before her. Her fingers slid over a few, the smooth glass; her eyes watched the slow tilt of the oil as she turned a vial onto its side in her hand. After selecting a heady mixture of African cinnamon, clove and sandalwood, she sauntered over to the steaming basin.

Maria parted her lips, sighing contentedly as she slipped down into the heated water, feeling her humanity restored to her with each inch. Once she sat comfortably, she delicately tilted the vile, watching the dark drops drip into the bath. She fanned the water in front of her, watching the oil stir around until it had dispersed. She inhaled deeply, allowing the vapor's tendrils tickle her face with the exotic scents of faraway places. She sank lower into the water, only her face held above the water. Her hair formed a dark halo around her face, waving ever so slightly with each move she made. Maria twirled a few of dark ribbons around her fingers; enjoying the smooth quality the water had restored. She had only been content with her hair if it was restrained in a braided bun, or if it flowed out behind her, dark waves rippling in the water. She sighed contentedly, sliding back to an upright position to begin washing herself.

Altaïr steeled himself for the stab of pain as he bowed slightly, returning the gesture two young journeymen gave him as he entered the main gate of the fortress. He felt his legs protest as he climbed the steps in the main hall. Finally, he had returned, and was looking forward to a long, uninterrupted sleep.

After he bid goodnight to his wife, of course.

He trudged into their spacious room, breathing in the familiar scent of home. However, something smelled different than before, something… spicy and invigorating after the dirty, fetid streets of Jerusalem's crowded city.

The heady aroma led him to stand at the bathroom's door, a tiny smile pulled at his lips as he heard Maria humming to herself, unaware of his presence.

She rarely sang, the only times he had ever heard her, was when he had snuck up on her, and was hotly reprimanded for it after the fact. But what he had heard had been beautiful, although quite different from the familiar primeval sounds of local women.

After waiting by the door for a few more moments, Altaïr moved to sit on the edge of the bed, sinking down slowly in an effort to minimize any pull on the tears in his torso and back. Cringing, he bent forward to remove his boots, kicking them off, attempting to be rid of them faster. He swore quietly to himself as he straightened back up, grasping his side gently. He mumbled a string of curses as his fingers fumbled with the ties of his leather waistguard, his taut obliques stretched the skin as he turned slightly to get a better grip. Soon it was flung over to where his boots had landed, resonating with a dull thud. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his eyes focused as fatigue threatened to claim them. He paused, preparing himself for the most deleterious step– his tunic.

Maria had finished with her bath, and had begun to dry herself off with a coarse towel when she thought she heard the slight scuff the door made when it opened. She paused, silently waiting to hear anything that would justify her heart quickening. After a moment without a sound, she shrugged, and continued to hum to herself, unhurriedly rubbing soothing oils into her skin. She lowered her nose close to her arm, inhaling deeply the spicy aroma. She let her eyelids close, imaging how Altaïr would enjoy her selection. She grabbed a pair of lightweight stockings from a table, and walked over to where she had left her towel. Unfortunately, she had walked off in such a rush, she neglected to notice that the feet had gotten caught on the metal handle of a drawer. Two steps into her haste, and she was yanked back.

Her head whipped around, trying to understand why she had been stopped, not able to see the stockings, which now hung slack, caught on the handle. She tugged experimentally on her stockings, and once more, felt the tug of the drawer.

"Dammnit– of course, it would be the last pair that I stretch out to fit a bloody horse!"

She unhooked them, scrutinizing them for damage. She tugged one on, frowning as she saw that it stretched over her knee, to about mid-thigh.

Gosh, how hard did I pull on these?!

She tugged the other one on, staring down at them, a puzzled look on her face.

She took a long moment, staring at her half clothed legs, wiggling her toes, while her brain put two and two together. She took her garters, and tied them to her linen underwear. She looked at her mottled reflection in their polished brass mirror, trying to decide whether what she had done was ludicrous, or genius.

Nothing bothers me more than having to yank up the crotch of my long stockings all bloody day– and the short ones never sit well under my tunics. I suppose I'll have to ask Altaïr what he thinks of it…

She slipped a thin linen strophium over her chest, adjusting herself accordingly, until she was pleased with the first layer of her dressing.

A dull thud called her attention back to beyond the bathroom door, and a smile to her lips as she recognized the deep timbre of Altaïr's grunt.

Altaïr rose to his feet, setting his jaw as he grabbed the edges, pulling it up and over, grunting through his teeth as felt air breathe against the deep wounds. He threw it to the ground, reaching down to be rid of his last layer, his more constricting inner tunic. He had managed to get it off of his waist before he began to regret his haste.

Maria emerged from the bathroom, smile playing across her lips as she watched her husband from across the room. She marveled at his sheer strength; cords of muscle ran up his spine, twitching occasionally as he writhed, struggling against his robes like a child.

Quite the juxtaposition.

She felt her tongue find her lips, her eyes trailing over his powerful back as he managed to bare it to her, finally succeeding in removing it. He plunked himself down on the bed– his shoulders dropped in fatigue.

Maria tiptoed towards him, her good mood sullied by the angry red slashes in places across his taut frame.

She checked herself, All that matters is that he's here– he can heal in the safety of his brothers.

Although, that doesn't mean he's going to get away without suffering slightly for the worry he's caused me.

Altaïr's fatigue was torn from him as he felt hands ghosting over his shoulders. He whipped around, despite the pain, grabbing hold of–

"Maria?!" His face was slightly surprised.

"Don't tell me you're expecting someone else…" she simpered, walking around to face him.

Altaïr's questioning gaze swelled as his eyes roamed down her scantily clad body, resting on her thighs, and whatever she was wearing on them.

The absolute look of bewilderment made Maria chuckle; even after calling his name twice his gaze never faltering from her creamy thighs clad in those strange, tantalizing stockings.

Maria grabbed his chin, lifting it so his eyes found hers. It startled her for a moment to see his eyes so dark and honeyed– his lips parted slightly as he took in her still wet locks curling around her features.

She watched him inhale; pleased with herself as she watched his eyes close unevenly, while tugging her forwards to tempt him further.

She obliged him, more than happy to finally reconnect with him in every sense of the word.

Altaïr let Maria lower him down onto the bed, content in his waning fatigue to watch her curves undulate as she crept up to him, seating herself over his hips. He did his best not to wince, however, three days of hard riding had left them more than stiff.

Maria's smile faltered, "Alt–"

He pulled her down over him, her wet hair tickling his bare chest. He kissed her softly. He released her, whispering with a reassuring smile, "I will be fine."

Maria's smile returned, a devious look flashing in her eyes. "Just wait here." She slid off of him, much to Altaïr's disappointment. "I'll be right back."

Altaïr watched her sashaying hips unabashedly as she disappeared into the bathroom. He waited patiently, listening with closed eyes to the odd clink of a glass jar. He heard the slight swish of her return, and opened his eyes.

She stopped at the side of the bed, placing down several containers and vials.

"What ar–"

Maria placed a finger over his lips, silencing his question.

Altaïr grunted softly, not liking to be kept out of the loop. He focused instead on the wave of scent that would roll from her hair every time she moved. The intoxicating aroma was more than enough to let him forget his fatigue, however, he would have a hard time trying to properly bed her without causing himself pain at this point.

Maria brought a damp cloth over his chest, squeezing his hand with hers reassuringly. She did not bother warning him about the sting, he was more than used to feeling pain, especially one as fleeting as the cleansing of wounds. After she had washed his chest, dipping teasingly down his hip bones, she turned her attention to his arms. She massaged them through the cloth, her fingers kneading sore muscles and the tightness of the journey. Altaïr felt himself sinking deeper into the pillows, finding it harder to stay awake with her light massage lulling him. His eyelids barely lifted when he noticed the absence of her touch. He reached out to stroke her leg that rested over his hip, reveling in the silky feel. She smiled down at him while she continued rubbing together a mixture of ointments and spices in her hands. Altaïr groaned loudly as she firmly pulled her hands down his chest, pausing at his injuries to rub the medication in more firmly. The perfect mixture of pain and pleasure had roused Altaïr from his sleepiness, his eyes alert, and watching as she laboured over him. She brought her mouth down to his lips, nipping around them, frustratingly so that Altaïr brought a hand up to her chin, pulling her to meet him. She felt his tounge pushing against her bottom lip, opening her mouth to let him claim what he had been without for too long. She felt a moan rise up in her throat, released when Altaïr sank his teeth into her full bottom lip. She retaliated by running her hands down his lithe chest, her hands sliding wonderfully over the peaks and valleys of his obliques and abdomen. Her fingers wantonly trailed the deep trenches of his hips, eliciting a satisfying hitch in his breathing as they continued lower, wrapping around him.

She looked up at him, her gaze saucy and tantalizing. Altaïr's pupils were large in their dilation, the usual bright gold depths now a stormy amber. She shivered slightly at the lust surfacing in them, tracing patterns into the oil on his chest, as she made him wait.

She had managed to do all she could for the front, and was about to ask him to turn over, when she felt herself being lifted, and tossed underneath him.

"I haven't finished yet." She said, raising an eyebrow at his sudden eagerness.

He breathed near her ear, "I don't care. There will be time for that tomorrow– tonight however, has more pressing matters."

Maria couldn't hide the grin that blossomed across her features.

Altaïr's lips had hungered, lusted for this moment since they had last slept together. The creaminess of her skin beneath his wet tongue, now even more irresistible because of the spices on her skin. He grated his teeth occasionally down the column of her neck, leaving hot brands on her skin.

"Mine", he had growled several times, urged on by her whimpers and moans as his lips left their mark.

Her fingers had snaked their way up to his scruffy hair, tugging when he found the juncture of her collarbone and neck, suckling greedily.

He attempted to free her of her bindings, however, after several frustrating seconds, he tore it off, receiving a raised eyebrow from Maria.

"I was going to wear that again, you know."

Altaïr responded by trailing his tongue down to her breasts.

Maria arched off of the bed, thrusting her chest upwards to his mouth. Her eyes rolled back in her head as his hands slid lower, sliding her underwear and stockings off of her legs. Maria looked up at him, waiting, panting as he removed his pants, baring himself to her. Altaïr placed a feather-light kiss on her nose before thrusting into her. He watched her face transform, emotions skirting across her face in a matter of seconds, he let her adjust to him for a moment, resting his forehead in the crook of her shoulder, before he felt her tilt her hips, urging him to move.

After a few thrusts, the dull ache began to rise again in his hips and legs, causing him to wince, and falter slightly. Maria looked at him, seeing the slight embarrassment and pain in his eyes. She kissed him while urging him to lay on his back. He followed her direction, eyes widening when she sank down onto him. His hands rose to hold her hips, as she continued in her motions.

Altaïr soon felt a steady heat pooling, rolling lower and hotter with each thrust Maria gave. Her whimpers soon increased in tempo, gradually building until she wailed his name, leaning forward to kiss him again. Altaïr didn't last much longer, with a few more thrusts, he came, holding her shoulders as they rode out their orgasm together.

When their heart beats stilled, both laid boneless, Maria's head rested against Altaïr's warm chest. He held her in a loose embrace, arms draped over her waist protectively. Finally, after days of travel, pain endured only to fulfill a mission, finally, he was home.

Maria stirred and tilted her head to look up at him. She watched him for a moment, pleased at the contented look he gave her.

"What, habibi?"

Maria lazily traced her fingers down a scar on his chest, "Well, I guess that I enjoyed playing doctor to your wounds." Her smile mischievous.

Altaïr smiled, "If you were my doctor, I would see to it that you never practiced again."

Maria shot him her best astonished face, "Pray tell what you mean by that– and choose your words carefully, habibi."

Altaïr smiled, "Well, for starters, you don't dress quite appropriately, and you only completed half of the procedure." He simpered, indicating his still-sore back.

Maria slapped his arm, "That's your own bloody fault, and you know it!" She smirked at his easy smile. "I suppose then, next time you come traipsing in from Lord knows what, I shall have to tie you down and gag you so I don't get any complaints." She nestled herself back down, grinning at her argument's end point. Altaïr only laid in surprise, completely unsure of how to respond to her promise– at least, he hoped it was a promise.

A/N Oooooohh what'll happen next?!

Actually, you tell me... IN THE COMMENTS :3

Well, not exactly– but if enough of you guys want me to, I will do my best to get another chapter up. If you have a specific prompt in mind, lemme know, and I will do my best!

Stay lovely!