Exploration Leads to Sin
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed, I wish I did~ But who doesn't?
Note: Random oneshot I wrote in the middle of my culture class -is shot-
Featuring: AltxMal
Warning: Yaoi, sex, all that jazz. You've been warned!
Night was always a calming time for any assassin that was taking a break. It was usually chilly, but nothing a blanket or a nice bowl of stew couldn't fix. Malik always made the best stew, at least in Altaïr's personal opinion. Altaïr sat in a corner of their shared room, slurping down the broth, trying to keep his gulps down, but seemingly having difficulty with doing so. Malik raised a brow as he heard the bowl hit the table next to Altaïr, a satisfied type of sound coming from the other's mouth as he slumped down into his chair, placing his hands on his stomach. The lower ranked assassin stood and walked over to him, taking his bowl, but not making it very far, the other's hands snaked their way around his waist pulling him to sit down on his lap.
They were silent, Malik holding the two bowls in his hands as he stared down at them, his cheeks tinted a soft pink color. "Why're you blushing, Mal?" Altaïr asked, whispering in his ear.
"You know perfectly well why," Malik stated, standing up and walking over to the water basin they put dirty dishes in, and slipped the bowls and spoons inside. "What if Kadar came in? You know he has a horrid habit of not knocking..."
"Let him see," Altaïr smirked standing up and walking over to Malik's side, "It's about time he learned what sex is, anyway."
Malik's face turned as red as a tomato as he opened and closed his mouth, not really knowing what to say back to the other. It had only been a month since the two started exploring their bodies, two months since the two started to practice kissing on one another. They were still only in their teens, Altaïr being nineteen, Malik eighteen, and both could honestly state that up until this point they were only interested in learning how to be the best assassins they could be.
Two months ago, Altaïr had asked Malik if he had any experience at kissing. This question threw the other off, but he answered honestly that he had never kissed anyone. It wasn't even a day later, that Altaïr begged Malik to practice with him, stating that he needed the practice whenever he was to meet the love of his life.
Of course, this was only half true. He did want practice but not to be prepared for anyone in the future. In all honesty, this young assassin had a crush on his best friend, and he wanted any excuse that he could find to show any affection to the other. Reluctantly, Malik agreed to be Altaïr's test subject, and the two started on their sexual journey.
It had all started slow, the first time they kissed it was on a training mission when they were locked away in a makeshift jail cell that the master assassin's had set up in the middle of no where, strictly for training purposes. They only planted their lips on each other's, pulling back almost immediately, both blushing like mad. Their second kiss was a day later in the horse stables. Malik was the first to make a move this time, hoping to make the other's confidence falter. He grabbed his hand, and yanked him into a corner where he pressed his lips to the taller man's clutching onto his hood to keep him pinned down. This time, they moved their lips some, Altaïr tilting his head to the side as he clung to Malik's sides, only pulling back at the sound of a horse neighing in case it was someone entering.
The third kiss was a little messy. Altaïr had laid in bed with Malik, originally just to discuss something with him at a whisper, but soon their lips were crushed together, tongues sliding together as they pressed their bodies together as they tried to fight for dominance. It wasn't long before the two pulled back, gasping for air from not knowing to breath through their noses. It also didn't help that Kadar busted in without knocking, causing Altaïr to have to fake himself being asleep, clutching to Malik.
"He had a bad dream, I was comforting him, but he fell asleep again. I don't have the heart to wake him," Malik whispered, not touching the other assassin as best as he could, to act as if he was a little put off to be clutched as so. When Kadar left, Altaïr got up and returned to his own bed, grumbling about how he could now be viewed as weak because of what Malik had stated.
The month of exploring each other's mouths soon led into the next month, where they discovered certain wants. In the midst of their make out session, Altaïr was a little confused to find his penis cramped up in his pants. He had never had this problem before, and was confused. Malik, being one for knowing how to heal certain wounds and what not, pulled down the other's pants, and was almost as shocked as Altaïr to find it sticking up, erect and seeping with want.
Malik reached out and lightly touched it, earning a soft moan from the other, making them both turn bright red. "What is-" Altaïr began to question.
"I don't know," Malik answered, shifting slightly, and looking to the side, groaning softly as he pressed his hands down on his own crotch.
Altaïr reached out, pulling down at the other's pants and blinked, "Yours is too!" he exclaimed, running his hand through his own hair, looking back down at his member, still confused.
"I..." Malik paused, tucking his penis back in his pants, shoving down on his assassin robes to make sure the bulged in his pants was covered, "I'm going to see the doctor. If it's bad, I'll come back and get you too. Hopefully it isn't anything serious-"
"It's obviously contagious!" Altaïr exclaimed, hiding his own, his eyes shifting about worried.
"I'll be back. Stay here. Promise me," Malik said sternly, earning a reluctant nod from the other.
It was the longest thirty minutes of his life. Malik came back, blushing like red as he flopped back on his bed, his bulge still very apparent from under his pants, "Apparently... it's natural. It happens to most men, It's... how you have sex, basically... It's suppose to be erect, and you insert it inside a woman, and... make love..."
Altaïr blinked, sitting upright in his bed, tilting his head to the side, "But... we don't have a woman... So why is it-"
"It's called an erection... You're suppose to...rub it...stroke it," It seemed like Malik was having trouble explaining what the doctor was telling him. He was bright red, hiding his face in his hands almost ashamed. He blinked and lowered his hands as he felt the bed shift slightly, Altaïr getting in with him. "What are you doing?"
Altaïr said nothing, pulling at Malik's pants and pulling out his cock, holding it in his hand, "Like... this?" he asked, starting to stroke up and down, tenderly, earning soft moans from the smaller man, who clung to the other's shoulders his eyes starting to droop as Altaïr continued his hand movements. Ignoring all of the teachings he had ever learned about their religion that was screaming at him from the back of his mind, he leaned forward claiming Altaïr's lips for his own, allowing the other to continue until he pulled back, digging his fingers into the fabric of Altaïr's robes, moaning out loudly as he came in his hand.
Malik blinked, panting as he looked down at the liquid substance that covered the other's hand. "What..." Malik blushed as he saw Altaïr begin to lick it off, "What is it?"
Altaïr shrugged and looked into Malik's eyes, "Tastes pretty good to me, whatever it is."
After that night, the two weren't shy about doing that any longer. It went on for almost a month, before Altaïr's fingers began to explore, trying to make new sounds from the other, to see if he liked anything more. He let his finger slip inside of Malik's hole, earning a soft bite on the neck from the other, smirking as he began to pump his finger inside. It wasn't long after that he got the urge to go further, sliding his penis inside him. At first, Malik protested, crying out that it hurt, and to take it out immediately. The very next night, he attempted it again, earning the same protest, but was stopped from removing himself completely as the smaller man told him to wait. The longer he stayed inside, the less it hurt, and when he directed him to move, all he could muster was soft moans, in the end deciding he liked this action.
That was how it had started. The two hid these actions from others, especially Malik's younger brother Kadar, wondering if they were doomed to go to hell because of this. In all actuality, the two didn't really care about their souls at this point. Something that felt so amazing, and so good could not possibly land them into a eternity in hell. It just didn't seem possible. The two didn't even see the severity of their actions until one night when an unwanted visitor paid them a visit.
Al Mualim entered the room, without knocking, and blanched at the sight of Altaïr on top of Malik thrusting into him. The two pulled apart, beat red as they attempted to cover themselves up. "What do you think you are doing?" he boomed, grabbing Altaïr's hair and pulling him out of the bed, throwing him to the ground. "Are you not using your heads? You both should be stoned for such actions!"
"Master I-"
"Silence!" Al Mualim slapped Altaïr across the cheek with the back of his hand, glaring down at him with his one good eye. "You are weeks away from becoming a master assassin, and this is how you act?"
Altaïr lowered his head, not really knowing what to say. "And you!" he turned and pointed at Malik, who jumped looking up at their master, fearfully. "Your future is on the line as well, Malik A-Sayf! You think you can become a doctor, or an assassin with the title of sinner on your head?"
"It's my fault, master. I convinced him that this was alright..." Altaïr stated, standing up, looking up at his master in the eyes.
Al Mualim frowned, and scowled shaking his head, "No matter who's fault it is, you both have done a terrible deed..." he rubbed his brows and then blinked, "You are being promoted in a few weeks time... after that, I have a job for you at Solomon's Temple. If you succeed, you will be redeemed. Malik, you will bring your brother Kadar along as well. Until then, you two will be separated. You and your brother will be room mates, and Altaïr, you will be with Kadar's room mate. Is that clear?" The both of them nodded, heads lowered. "Good. Now get dressed, and pack up, Altaïr. I will go and inform them of the change." He walked to the door, turned to glare at them, then left, slamming the door.
The two looked to each other, both sporting worried glances. Altaïr sighed, getting dressed slowly, as he then began to pack up the few things he had in a small bag. Malik got dressed also, and hesitated, but kissed Altaïr softly, pulling back to hug him, not happy with the fact that they were caught. "Least we won't be killed..." Altaïr whispered softly, holding the other.
When Altaïr left the room, that was the last they saw of each other, till about a month later. They were summoned to Al Mualim early in the day. Malik immediately sensed something was wrong as soon as he saw the other man. Altaïr was stone eyed, seeming to not have any emotion at all. He frowned at this. What exactly happened to him in the month of them being separated? He didn't say anything, but listened to their master's instructions of the mission.
On being dismissed to go, Malik made to go talk to the other, but was brushed off only too quickly. He frowned deeper, glaring at the other's back, looking back at his brother, who was looking nervously between the two. He allowed his brother to walk ahead of him, and looked back, staring up on top of the stares at Al Mualim who was smirking evilly down at him. He bit the inside of his lower lip, then looked down, following the other two, hoping and praying that this was all an act for their master...
Review and what not if you liked it, hated it, whatever you were feeling towards it. Just please let me know what you were thinking so I can use the feedback to improve my writing~
This was basically what comes out when I'm bored in Culture class. Damn good thing I sit in the back, isn't it? LOL.
Hope you enjoyed it, and if you didn't I'm sorry but it was just a random bit of drabble produced from boredom.