I don't own anything. All rights go to their rightful owners. This story may contain spoilers from the game "Assassin's Creed: Syndicate". This is set after the events of AC Syndicate but before the third Pressed Flowers cutscene.
Love HenryxEvie? Collect all of the Pressed Flowers and return to Henry on the train.
My boots clang against the metal as I hit the roof's surface. As I find my balance atop the moving train, I take a moment to look out across London and soak in the city for all it's glory, and all it's suffering. Smoke fills the sky from bellowing chimneys and carriages driven by Rooks fill the streets; never would I have believed Jacob if he had told me the Rooks would take London, for his idea of starting a gang seemed like every other childish scheme he had ever thought of. Perhaps I doubt my dear brother too much at times, despite his often reckless demeanor.
Clambering down from the train's roofs, I swing the door shut behind me, hoping for a few moments of peace before Jacob is due to return. With Henry away on a mission outside of London, I don't expect his return for several more days. Relaxing on the neatly made bed, I work off my Assassin cloak and carefully set it aside. Leaving my weapons beside the cloak and cape, I be sure to tuck a blade underneath the blanket beside me.
With my armour no longer weighting my body, I allow a hand to slip into my remaining clothes and between my legs, enjoying the warmth and the pleasure it brings as my hands find where I am most vulnerable. My thoughts drift to Henry, as they always have since our first meeting, though this time I allow myself to indulge in my own pleasurable fantasies with the knowledge that our feelings towards each other are shared. I groan against my own rough and calloused fingers.
My peripheral vision catches an unusual item on the desk, peeking my interest and forcing me to cross the train cart to get a better view of it. Evaluating the object, I find it to be a small bouquet of flowers delicately tied together with ribbon. I briefly recognize them from Henry's book, remembering one as "a message", though the name of the others seem lost within my mind.
"...what was it?" I mutter, buried so deep in thought that I almost didn't detect the other presence in the train car.
Turning my head, a familiar face elates me, "I hope that I am not intruding, Miss Frye. Your brother informed me you had not yet returned from your mission."
Giving a small smile, I assure him, "You weren't intruding on anything, Mr Green." glancing at the three colorful flowers grasped in my hand, I say, "I was trying to recall the meanings of these flowers. A message..." I trail off, still combing my memory.
"Ah..." his features become riddled with anxiety, his voice unsteady. "A message of coquetry and desire." he states. I look deep into his dark eyes, lust beginning to captivate my own. "You know I have the utmost respect for you and your wishes..." placing the flowers back onto desk behind me, I allow my hands to join with his. I suddenly feel conscious of my lack of Assassin robes, feeling Henry's eyes run over my features. A hunger I was in the midst of satisfying begins to arise once again.
"Henry," I breathe, a smile lighting up my face. "I would love to." allowing a moment for my words to sink in, I rest my hand on his chest and press my lips to his. He seems to respond, almost in disbelief, slowly and tentatively to my actions.
Breaking the kiss, the assassin responds, "You're sure, Evie?"
"Yes. I've wanted this too." capturing each others' mouths in our own, I feel the passionate he has been holding back being released. After helping Henry rid himself of his Assassin robes and weapons, we lie on the bed with myself on top. Henry leans on his elbows, my hands resting on his bare chest as his tongue searches my mouth. When I feel his hand nervously hovering beside me, I quickly pull it to reside over my own covered chest. He responds with newfound confidence, releasing my mouth long enough for me to remove my undershirt and trousers, my breasts now exposed. The paleness of my skin and the smallness of my body awakens my self-conscious anxieties, with my nerves seeming to reflect in my expression.
"Are you alright, Evie?" Henry asks, pushing himself upwards to sit on the bed. I sit in front of him, rocking on my knees.
Leaning into him, I admit, "I haven't done this before."
"I'm no expert either, Miss Frye." he says reassuringly, "We can stop, if you'd prefer."
"No, not at all." I capture his lips, "I want to be here with you, Henry." he kisses my neck softly as I remove the final piece of cloth over my core. Grasping his hand in my own, I allow him to touch my most intimate part. Using a delicate touch, Henry encircles the most sensitive part of myself, a place I had always enjoyed touching with my own hands. I gasp at the pleasure, my muscles taut.
The assassin brushes loose strands of hair from my face as he murmurs, "Relax yourself." I take his advise, letting myself get lost in the touch of another.
As Henry's movements quicken, I follow with ragged and uneven breathes. My hips begin to buck at the height of my pleasure and my nails embed into his forearms; my body and mind wrapped in a world of splendor that I no longer controlled, with Henry in the centre of it. Gasping, I found myself slowly coming back down from my high, my heartbeat in my throat. I lean into Henry's scarred chest, his arms supporting me as I regain my composure.
"That certainly was...incredible." I smile, a chuckle rolling from my throat. His eyes reflect the same happiness that mine project, both of us taken aback by the last few moments.
"It seemed so." he says with a smile on his lips. "Do you still wish to continue, Evie?"
"That would be wonderful, Henry."