Malalt. Ah, my OTP.
Sometimes Altair thought that Malik worked himself too hard.
Often times, long after Altair had retired to a pile of pillows or perhaps even the Dai's own chambers, Malik would still stand behind his bureau counter, candles burning and quill scratching. On the uncommon and rare nights he slept with the pillows in the bureau's front room, Altair would wake every now and again and see his lover bent over his counter, tirelessly completing page after page of paperwork. Just watching him work tired Altair further, and he soon returned to his slumber, but not before feeling his chest tighten in longing for his lover. On the nights he ventured into Malik's chambers, he would wait hours upon hours for the Dai to complete his duties and join him in bed.
Some nights, he never did.
Those nights were the nights they hated the most. Not only was Malik in an even fouler mood than normal from lack of sleep, Altair himself felt the bitterness of going to bed alone and pining for another's warmth, but never getting it. At times, it put a strain on their relationship and they ended up screaming at each other until they were red in the face and regretting the things they'd said.
As Altair hopped into the bureau, he hoped that it wouldn't be one of those nights.
Sore and tired, he ventured into Malik's workroom, and found what he expected: his lover's tall frame hunched over a pile of papers, quill scratching words into parchment and lips whispering silent words as he thought. Though he would've much rather preferred seeing Malik smiling and welcoming him into a hug, he settled for just the sight of the Dai himself, and smiled fondly. He opened the gate that led behind the counter and quietly sidled up to Malik, gently massaging what was left of his arm soothingly.
"You've returned," Malik acknowledged.
Altair rested his head on his shoulder. "Yes."
"Have you the feather?"
Silently, the assassin pulled it from his robes and placed it into Malik's waiting hand, and relished in the proud smile he allowed. Malik didn't verbally praise often, so Altair had learned to appreciate the little things he did to portray his approval.
He watched as the Dai quickly filed the feather away in its proper place. When finished, he fully turned his attention to Altair, who was now hugging him from the side with both arms, and smiled because he'd finally returned. He leaned down slightly and placed a kiss to compliant lips.
He'd missed him.
When they separated for pause in their kissing, Malik glanced at Altair's jaw and noticed a purpling bruise there. No doubt he'd gotten sloppy in his fighting technique and a guard had caught him across the face. He lifted his hand to gingerly caress the purple blotch, and when Altair offered no resistance, he reached around his back to pull him closer and press a kiss to the wound, to which the assassin responded by lacing their fingers together.
"Novice," he teased, a smile in his voice.
Altair smiled himself, unbothered by the name. There was a time when he loathed the title; now, he couldn't help but find it endearing. Regretfully, he moved away from Malik, but retained their handhold by keeping his fingers curled just the right amount. "I must bathe," he explained when given a questioning stare.
"You've not any wounds to dress, do you?"
Altair smiled at Malik's protectiveness and shook his head. "No. I'll return to you shortly."
He retrieved a bucket and filled it up at the fountain, removing his clothes until he was in nothing but his trousers and boots. He dipped a rag into the cool water and began washing his face, careful of the bruise on his jaw, and admired the star-dotted sky and crest moon.
He had hoped to return from his mission hours ago, but false information and miscalculations on his part had delayed him, and now he had little to no time to spend with Malik. He just hoped he would come to bed tonight.
As he finished washing his top half, he managed to toe his boots off and drop his trousers to the floor to wash his legs and feet. He soon finished with those and rinsed off at the fountain, arranging his clothes in a neat pile to wash later.
When he walked into the workroom, naked as the day he was born, he calmly walked to a chest full of clean assassin robes and pulled out a pair of pants. He'd felt Malik's eyes following him as he'd crossed the room, and he allowed himself a smile. He felt the urge to tease the Dai, even if only a bit, but somehow found the strength to resist the appealing urge. He pulled on the loose garment and closed the chest again, walking across the room again to get behind the counter.
Malik was once again engrossed in his work, and Altair sighed disappointedly. He knew pulling the Dai from his counter would be a near fruitless effort, but he supposed there was no harm in trying. Rubbing circles into Malik's chest, Altair leaned heavily against him. When he still didn't look away from his work, he curled a gentle hand around his jaw and turned his head to look at him. With big, pouty eyes that had gotten him very positive responses before, Altair looked up at the Dai and said, "It's getting late, Malik. Don't you think it's time to rest? You can continue your work in the morning."
Malik sighed, and the assassin knew that he'd lost. It was an old argument, and he knew what the Dai was going to say before he even opened his mouth. "You know I can't, Altair. These reports have to be finished as soon as possible. I can't afford to lose time." He passed his hand through reddish brown hair. "I'll be to bed later."
Altair nodded, though disappointedly, and pulled away from Malik, but not before pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight," he whispered.
As he continued into the chambers, he heard Malik quietly say, "Goodnight," apologetically.
He couldn't tell how long he laid there, attempting to find sleep and pining for Malik, but he knew he was making no progress whatsoever. He'd done nothing but toss and turn, try to get comfortable, stay warm, but he missed Malik, he wanted Malik to be next to him, and he knew he wasn't going to get to sleep tonight unless he was there. With a discontented sigh, he climbed from beneath the blankets and padded to the doorway. He leaned against it, one hand on both sides of the wall, and quietly observed Malik from where he stood.
Two candles silently flickered beside him, casting both soft orange light and dancing shadows. Malik hadn't moved since Altair last saw him. Though he had switched from reports to maps, he was still bent over, hand flying as it sketched lines that made up the streets of Jerusalem.
Altair frowned.
"Malik," he called softly.
The dark-haired man looked up at him, and he looked tired. Altair felt sympathy for him. He made his way behind the counter and Malik straightened up, bones popping as he did so. The Dai winced. Altair gently rubbed his back to ease his pain and they ended up in an embrace, the assassin gratefully breathing in Malik's distinctive scent that helped put him at ease.
He rested his head in the crook of Malik's shoulder. "Please," he whispered, "come to bed." Malik sighed, but before he could deny Altair's wish, the assassin clasped his face in his hands and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. "Please," he said again, "please, Malik, come to bed. Just tonight. You can finish these tomorrow."
Oh, that wasn't fair. Malik was completely defenseless to those golden eyes that begged him for attention, and that desperate tone he was using resigned him to his fate completely. He couldn't deny Altair anything when he was this displeased.
"Alright," he conceded. "You've won."
Altair clung to him, then, and rewarded him with a kiss. Smiling, he clutched Malik's robes and pulled him from behind the counter and into their chambers, shedding clothes as he went, until Malik was only in his trousers. They fell into bed together, connected at the mouths, and at that moment, neither of them could have been happier. Malik slipped his hand beneath the hem of Altair's pants and caressed his hip, causing him to break out in goose bumps and gasp quietly.
Altair knew what he wanted.
"Malik," he said, "take it slow."
Sheathed in darkness, they removed the rest of their clothing as moans tore themselves from their throats. Hands cupped and stroked hardening flesh and when Malik finally entered him, finally made them one, Altair screamed.
This was what he missed. This was what he'd wanted. Malik, all of him, every piece of him, was his, belonged to him, and oh, Altair loved him, praised him, worshipped him. He loved Malik more than he'd ever thought himself capable of loving anything, and he never wanted to lose him, be without him, and if he died, Altair would surely die with him, because he needed him more than he'd ever needed anything before.
Malik was beautiful, his voice was lyrical and his touch was sinful, and Altair craved him all day, wanted to be with him every waking moment because he loved Malik and he was the only thing that truly mattered. Tears of pleasure gathered in the corners of his eyes, a few may have even slipped out, but he didn't know, didn't care, because Malik was with him, in him, and he could focus on nothing else.
As his orgasm approached, he curled his toes and fluttered his eyelashes, and Malik's name fell from his lips, over and over again, in different pitches and volume. This orgasm wasn't explosive, as many others were. It was slow, sweet, but mind-numbing in its intensity. And then there was Malik, releasing into him, milking him for all he had, holding him close and saying his name as though he was the most precious thing in the world.
Sweaty and exhausted, neither of them had the energy to clean up afterward. They barely even made it beneath the blankets. Altair made sure, though, that before he fell into a deep, contented slumber, he held fast to Malik, touching every inch of skin that he could.
He was the first to wake in the morning. He didn't know what time it was, but he quickly decided that it was unimportant. Malik was still sleeping, arm wrapped tightly around him. Quietly, happily, Altair snuggled closer and decided that he wouldn't get up until Malik did, and even then…
He could convince him to spare a few more moments.
A/N: Headcanons!
Malik and Altair have a very affectionate relationship
Malik hardly ever leaves his work
Altair is good at manipulating him
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