WARNING: This fanfiction is the result of a seething mass of hormones. It couldn't be helped. So if you are a fan of yaoi, keep reading. If you are not a fan of incest, you may stop reading and humbly continue with your day. While I'm at it, here's the DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and nobody and yeah. No flames. The warning was precise. Read at your own risk :p
Connor resisted with all of his remaining strength, but the blood and the tears finally did become the portrait of his defeat. Haytham pushed Connor to the ground, successfully straddling him, studying him, both panting with the exertion of their fight. Connor was done. All feeling left his body, all reason to keep fighting. Haytham licked his lips, tired but still able-bodied. He looked at Connor with all the feelings Connor never knew he had for him. Connor's head lying on its side, mouth open and breathing, eyes closed in weariness, blood and dirt stained tears making trails across his face. Haytham took advantage of his weakened state and pulled over some ropes lying beside a box crate. He started with Connor's ankles, which weren't splayed out so wildly. By the time he employed the ropes to Connor's wrists, Connor began to regain consciousness. The memory of his fight, his inner turmoil grasped him in a suffocating manner to his chest, and he heaved out heavy tears and choked moans. He knew not what Haytham was planning to do, only what he was doing. But he knew it would be the end of him and he begged for the father he might once have had once upon a time. "Father! *hic please I'll….go…with..you. I want to know you…" Connor cried out, between his sobs. Haytham too, was on the verge of tears. "You will know me son. I promise you will know me." Connor only responded with his uncontrollable cries, wracking his body and making him suddenly aware of the cold. He shivered and inhaling became a desperate effort. Haytham sighed. He took a kerchief and tied it between Connor's teeth. More tears resulted, but he became quieter, and breathing came easier to him.
Connor fell asleep in Haytham's arms. He knew because he woke up huddled in Haytham's embrace, and noticed his father's warm breath brush past his neck. They were indoors. Haytham placed Connor on a bed. The kerchief was removed. Connor dimly noticed and began to silently panic, drawing in huge gulps of air. "Ssshh…." Haytham said, stroking Connor's head. He kept a slow steady rhythm, and Connor was lulled to sleep.
Daylight roused Connor. His bonds still held him fast. A blanket covered his body, which he realised was devoid of any clothing. At the sound of his stirring, Haytham entered with a tray of bottles and cloth. "Where are my clothes?" Connor demanded. "I burned them." Haytham said. "Why?! I have nothing to—" "Connor they were torn, bloodstained, and unusable. I have some clothes you can wear." Haytham said. "Where are they?" Connor asked. "In my trunks. Worry about them later." Haytham removed the blanket off his son, who cringed at the ridicule, and the cold. He swept Connor's injuries with his eyes before soaking a clean cotton rag with alcohol and applying it to a wound. Connor screamed at the burning pain. "Relax, boy. You are a mess. Once this is done, it's into the bath with you. Warm water. Be grateful." So Connor endured more compresses, straining and whining in protest to the treatment to his wounds. "These are wounds you caused!" he screamed, the tears once again appearing. "I know, my boy. I know. And am I not serving my apologies by speeding up the healing process?" Haytham said, trying to soothe the assassin. "This is only causing me pain and you're only doing it for your own enjoyment." Haytham sighed. "Fine. I'll stop." He proceeded to remove the bonds. "What are you doing?" Connor asked. He took the opportunity of his freed hands to hide his body. "Would you rather bathe instead?" Haytham asked. Connor remained silent. "Follow me."
Wrapping the blanket around his sculpted form, Connor followed Haytham to a bath heated by the warmth of a hearth fire. "Don't just stand there, boy. You're filthy." Connor glared at Haytham, but dropped the blanket unceremoniously and lowered himself into the tub. He stared at the water. Haytham was right. It felt good. "My trunk is in the closet. Get dressed when you're done." Haytham left the room, shutting the door. Immediately Connor leaped out of the bath, dried himself with the blanket, and went for the closet. He dressed and tried the door. "Fuck!" he screamed. Locked. "Open the door!" There were no sounds from the other side of the door. The only logical explanation was that Haytham left. As much as Connor didn't want to despair, there was nothing to divert his attention. He sank to the floor and wept.
Haytham sulked at the tavern nearby. His drink was stale and tasteless. It gave him nothing to focus on. He didn't think he could ask anyone there for advice regarding his son. Then it's left to me. Haytham thought.
Connor didn't stir when Haytham opened the door. He faced the wall. "Get up." Haytham said. Connor didn't respond. Haytham sighed and walked over to his son. "Connor, please.." he said as he began to gently lift Connor off the floor. He complied, but he was stiff and his movements were slow and awkward. Haytham paused. "You didn't bathe yourself. Get back in the tub." Haytham said. "I'm fine. When's the last time you cleaned yourself? All the sins you've done." Haytham struck a nerve in Connor's neck, making him fall to one knee. He then kneed him in the stomach, making him fall to his side. Connor was still in too much pain to react fast enough. Haytham retrieved the bonds, and when Connor saw them, he edged back in fear. "Alright….." he surrendered. Haytham just stood there this time, and wouldn't leave when Connor began removing his clothes. "Don't throw them, place them on the edge of the bed. They are my clothes. You will respect them." Pausing, Connor held an empty expression as he threw them on the bed. He returned to the bath and sat there. "I assume from your native origins, you are not so familiar with the concept of soap." Haytham said drily. Connor spat in the direction of Haytham's face. But since he was sitting in the bath, it only managed to reach waist level. Haytham struggled to ignore the gesture. Without anymore words, he pulled out soap and began roughly scrubbing his son, not caring that his wounds were still tender from their earlier fight. Connor tried to move away from his father's hands, but only succeeded in revealing more of himself to be cleaned. Haytham was gentler, as Connor held his head in his arms and accepted it. When Haytham declared he could get out of the filthy water, Connor dressed quickly to escape any more humiliation. He stood by the window and stared out, a small tear escaping his eye. Haytham didn't approach right away, the images of Connor's naked body still controlling his immediate thoughts. He began to wish he didn't hurt Connor in the bath, he might have had a chance to better appreciate seeing Connor without clothes. Now that Connor was dressed, Haytham had no good reason to suggest he remove his clothes again. He left Connor to think, but locked the door behind him. Connor seemed to accept it, because the noise of fists banging against the door and screaming to be released were absent.
Haytham returned when the sun was dim, carrying a small parcel. Connor looked at it strangely when Haytham held it out to him. When he didn't take it, Haytham placed it on the bed. "Food." He said. "Just thought you might be hungry." Connor grunted, uninterested. Meanwhile, Haytham took the medicines and left with them. Secretly, he hid a syringe up his sleeve, not planning to store that away just yet. When he returned, he found Connor gorging on the contents of the box. "Hahaha. I knew you were hungry." Haytham said. "Shut up." Connor said, with his mouth full. He didn't react when Haytham sat next to him. Haytham rested his arm behind Connor's back. He loved the way Connor smelled, like the woods and his natural musk. Connor closed his eyes when Haytham moved his hand to Connor's lower back. "I hope we can place the past where it belongs. This is an inn, so we can't stay. But while we're here, we can do whatever you want. Anything." Haytham whispered, his face close to Connor's. He rubbed Connor's back in small circles, and to his surprise, Connor relaxed against him. "I don't know. Honestly, I need a release. But I don't have any interest in the colonial women." Don't do this to him, Haytham. His father thought to himself. "Well, maybe there's someone in your….tribe you might like." He suggested. It almost choked him to say the words. "No. They don't want to see me ever again. They think I'm dead anyway. I need to move on." Connor said. He moved his head so he was breathing into Haytham's shoulder. Haytham pressed his lips to Connor's forehead, mouthing the skin, while the hand rubbing his back bent upwards. His wrist continued to massage the boy as he pressed the needle under Connor's skin just a millimeter. Connor didn't notice. Satisfied, Haytham reached down to 'scratch his ankle' while depositing the needle under the bed until he can remove it later.
"What are you implying?" Haytham whispered, moving the scarves and lightly tasting the skin of Connor's neck. "I.." Connor drawled. He stared at nothing in particular. Haytham noticed the injection must be taking effect. "You what?" Haytham teased, letting his hand tug at the neckline of Connor's coat. Haytham loved seeing Connor in his clothes. It was like a symbol of ownership, but of course Haytham would never tell him this. It deeply aroused him, because he looked so good. "I want to be fucked….so much…I need it." Connor moaned. As his head was already resting against Haytham's shoulder, he opened his legs and began kneading the bulge concealed by his clothes. His breathing hitched as he pleasured himself, and this enticed a similar reaction in Haytham, whose cock sprang in heat. Connor's leg was leaning directly on the site, moving from his own self pleasure and in turn making Haytham grow hard very fast. Haytham decided then no more words were necessary. He pushed Connor down on his back, who looked at him with such exotic glistening eyes. They begged him to go further, even if Connor himself didn't say it. Haytham forced himself to act slow. He still wasn't sure Connor wanted this. But he knew he would force it out of him anyway. Connor brought it on himself. Haytham brushed his nose up against Connor's, inhaling his breath and finally making contact with his mouth. Connor muttered a confused response, but Haytham eased into the kiss, smirking at Connor's struggling. The drug hindered any chance for Connor to push him off at this point. "I don't think….I don't know if this is right. Wait…" he gasped as Haytham continued to explore his mouth, his hands undoing the clothes he lended. I don't even need the ropes Haytham thought to himself. Connor moaned his protest, but his body betrayed him. Connor liked this, and still he refused. Haytham whispered to Connor, gentle encouragement as he took Connor's hands and lifted them to his garments. "Go on, Connor, it's alright. Yes…" Haytham soothed. Connor realized his hands were in Haytham's control. Silent tears met Haytham's warm gaze as he shakily undid the fastenings of Haytham's clothes. Haytham even paused to remove his hair tie.
Even as Connor was finished removing his father's clothes, he rested his hands on his father's body. It was warm and he wanted so much to embrace Haytham. Unable to restrain his fear, Connor drew Haytham close and cried. He begged not to be taken, promised him anything else. Haytham didn't want to traumatize the boy, but he could see Connor's full erection and decided to take his chances. He reached down and took a firm grasp of Connor's cock. This earned a reluctant gasp from the boy, just the reaction Haytham sought, and he kept going. Connor still fought with himself over the situation, but he couldn't deny the pleasure he received from such strong hands. Haytham stroked in a steady rhythm, pressing sensually towards the tip, which caused Connor to drip. Connor's pleading and begs turned to those of continuation instead of the former. His moans remained much the same. Haytham used his other hand to rub between Connor's thighs, his abdomen, pulling their warm bodies close. When Haytham stopped, he lowered his body onto Connor's, his massive cock pushing through the opening of his arse. "I…don't know if I…" Connor began, but Haytham shushed him, stroking his face and whispering reassuring words. Connor realized he had no choice. Haytham pushed himself inside, Connor's scream somehow making Haytham harder. "Relax my boy, ooh God, fuck, ungh!" Haytham said. "Father it hurts! Please don't go any farther.." Connor sobbed. Haytham paused to lie on top of Connor until his pain eased down. He was gentler with the boy, easing in and moaning in ecstasy at the warm wet tightness sucking his cock. Still, Connor grunted in pain until Haytham was fully sheathed. Connor took large breaths as Haytham started to move. "Good God, Connor. That's it, boy. Ah.." Haytham said, trying to even out his pace but thrusting shortly and sharply into Connor's ass. Blood leaked onto the sheets, Connor tightening the muscles around his father's cock, making him moan so desperately. "Uh ah huh…" Connor moaned in pain, his hands digging into the sheets. Haytham moved deeper and reached a nerve that made Connor buck his hips in response. "Ah! Do that again, please father.." he begged, arching his hips up and throwing back his head in abandon. Haytham complied, bending his body to pound Connor. "Urgh! Hnh….grab my balls..do it." Haytham ordered, and Connor reached around to squeeze them. A surge of heat shot through Haytham's cock, which in turn kept hitting that spot inside Connor, who yelled in pleasure. "More! Please father, harder, I want your release, hunh!" Connor gasped. Haytham's heavy balls slapped against Connor's ass with every thrust, and he grabbed the boy's waist as he buried his cock deep within, moaning so the entire inn could hear his pleasure. "Connor! Uaaagh! Hhh Hhh Uuuuugh!" His release found itself warmly shooting into the boy's wet entrance, leaking with some escaping onto himself. He pulled out of Connor and licked up and down his cock, rapidly stroking and squeezing, suckling his balls until Connor came onto his stomach, the white fluid glistening with the boy's sweat, his nipples erect, splayed out for Haytham's pleasure. Connor had not the strength to lift his head, the drug still controlled him. Haytham displayed himself to Connor, leaning over him and letting him snake his eyes down every inch of his body, the perfect man Connor never thought his father to be. Haytham leaned down and kissed Connor passionately, tucking them both under the sheets as Connor clung to Haytham with a need and all desire. The next day would be a mystery, but Haytham decided to enjoy the feel of his son's flesh pressed against his own for the time being.