Based on this prompt from OTP Prompts on tumblr: imagine your OTP/OT3 a la Hysterical Literature style: person A has to read through a passage of a book while being pleasured by person B (and person C if it's an OT3). How far can person A read before succumbing to the intense attention and climaxing?
Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed or any of the characters mentioned!
Notes: I guess I forgot to post this here. Eh, whatever. The poem Shay's reading is 'The Imperfect Enjoyment' by John Wilcot, which is also the inspiration for the title of this. Because who doesn't want some authentic 17th century smut? Anyway, I had way too much fun writing this. It came out a LOT dirtier than it was supposed to be. I was kind of planning on fluff, but wound up with straight up porn. ...Not that it's a bad thing. This pairing needs it, badly.
This isn't beta'd so there might be some mistakes. Sorry!
Warnings: Graphic m/m sexual content, PWP
The Imperfect Enjoyment
Shay stared incredulously at Haytham over the top of the dusty, obviously well-loved tome in his hands. Haytham, he knew, had some rather... interesting tastes when it came to sex. But this... This was a bit much, even for him. Shay cleared his throat loudly and raised his eyebrows.
"You want me to read you a poem, Sir? Did I hear you right?" Shay asked, tapping his fingers on the cover of the heavy leather bound book. It was a journal of sorts, neatly written by Haytham's own hand. Apparently, he'd been collecting and copying down poems that he enjoyed for years.
"Yes, the one that I marked. I thought that I would like to hear it in your voice." Haytham told him, and stepped away from the ornate red velvet chair behind his desk in the office that Shay had given him inside Fort Arsenal. "Sit, we'll be here for a while." He added, in a mischievous tone. Shay just shrugged and sat, dropping the book onto the desk with a thud. Haytham made a face at the mistreatment of the beaten old thing, but didn't comment. Either way, it didn't bother Shay much. Haytham got off on some rather strange things, and they'd had sex on the desk in his office more times than they could count. This was almost normal for them.
...Or not.
"Naked she lay, clasped in my lon - Christ! What is this?" Shay moaned, shaking his head.
"Just read it. That's an order, Shay. Don't let anything distract you." Haytham purred in his ear. "Start over."
Shay swore creatively under his breath and did as he was told. If indulging the man's fantasies was all it took to make him genuinely happy, then it was good enough for him. Besides, let it never be said that Shay was intimidated by a dirty poem. The way Haytham was watching him like a starving predator, on the other hand, was a different story.
"Naked she lay, clasped in my longin' arms, I filled with love, and she all over charms;" Shay read, cringing as Haytham made sure the door was locked. "Both equally inspired with eager fire, meltin' through kindness, flamin' in desire." He continued, wanting to roll his eyes. He could imagine some young woman reading the poem by candlelight with her loins positively on fire.
"Keep reading." Haytham insisted, coming up behind Shay and resting his hands on his shoulders. Shay could feel his breath on his cheek as he leaned close.
"With arms, legs, lips close clingin' to embrace, she clips me to her breast, and sucks me to her face." Shay read, the last part of the sentence coming out full of badly suppressed laughter. "Her nimble tongue, love's lesser lightenin', played within my mouth, and to my thoughts conveyed," Shay continued, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Haytham nibbled on his ear. His breath caught in his throat as he felt deft hands tugging his hair loose from the bit of silk ribbon holding it in place. Shay swallowed his pride and kept going.
"Swift orders that I should prepare to throw the all-dissolvin' thunderbolt below." Shay nearly gasped the sentence in a breathless tone as Haytham placed a heated kiss on the side of his neck and tangled his fingers in his hair. He knew exactly what Haytham was up to with this, and he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. ...Maybe not, it wasone long arse poem.
"My flutterin' soul, sprung with the painted kiss, hangs hoverin' o'er her balmy brinks of bliss." Shay choked out as Haytham's hands wandered to his chest and started pulling apart the many buttons and buckles of his Templar uniform. For a moment Shay faltered and completely lost his train of thought when Haytham leaned against him, his hardened length pressing into Shay's side.
"Let nothing distract you, Shay. Focus." Haytham chastised him sucking hard at his collarbone. Shay sighed, trying to ignore the growing tightness in his groin.
"But whilst her busy hand would guide that part which should convey my soul up to her heart," Shay grumbled indignantly, gripping the edge of the desk hard to try and keep himself grounded as warm, slightly calloused hands traced indiscernible patterns across his bare chest, stopping to pinch at his nipples. "In liquid raptures I dissolve all o'er, melt into sperm and, and spend at every pore." He was caught somewhere between a girlish giggle at the absolutely ridiculous poem, and a weak moan as Haytham leaned forward and placed a soft, fluttery kiss on the scar just above his eyebrow. He shifted uncomfortably on the chair. He couldn't take much of this nonsense. His pants were too hot, too tight and his breath was already starting to come in short gasps.
"I like this very, very much. From now on, Shay, I want you to tell me every dirty thing that goes through your mind as we make love." Haytham whispered, dragging his thumb across Shay's lower lip.
"A ...T-touch from any part of her had done't: Her hand, her foot, her very look's a cunt." Shay continued reading, just for the sake of not replying. Sure, he'd made enough naughty comments to Liam over the years about his girls in Havana, but this was Haytham. The very thought of looking the Templar Grandmaster in the eye and saying something along the lines of: 'I want your cock in my arse, and I'll ride you 'til mornin'. ', wasn't exactly something Shay thought he could get away with and still be breathing by the end of the sentence.
"Smilin', she chides in a kind murmurin' noise, and from her body wipes the clammy joys," Shay grunted and bit his lip as one of Haytham's hands traveled a bit further south and cupped the bulge in his pants. "W-when, with a... A thousand kisses … Hng!" Shay nearly forgot how to breathe as Haytham's fingers slipped inside his trousers, stroking his straining cock in a teasing rhythm. He moaned loudly and let his head fall back against the soft velvet of the high-backed chair.
"You aren't finished yet, Shay." Haytham said in a low, lust-filled tone.
"When, with a... Thousand... A... Can't! It - ! Haytham!" Shay growled, digging his fingers into Haytham's hair as he leaned down and took Shay's length into his mouth. This, they hadn't done before. Well, that wasn't right. They had, just it was usually Shay on his knees. Haytham slid off of Shay with an obscene pop and gave him that patent 'Do as I told you, because I said so!' glare that only Haytham could pull off without words. Shay cleared his throat and tried to focus.
"With a thousand kisses wanderin' o'er m-my p-pantin' – Ah!" Shay just shook his head, and gave up. He couldn't think straight – not with Haytham's lips wrapped around his cock, and his firm grip holding him down hard enough to keep him from bucking his hips in ecstasy. There was a look of a pure sin in Haytham's eyes, and it was obvious that he'd found something new that he really liked doing.
"Pantin'... Bosom..." Shay breathed, determined not to let Haytham win his little game even though he was hardly aware of the words leaving his lips. If they could even be called words at that point. He heard the most pathetic little whimper as Haytham swallowed him deeply, and only realized half a minute later that it had come out of his own mouth. Vacantly he thought he was probably making it harder for Haytham, and managed to loosen his vice-like grip on the slightly older man's hair. He should be ashamed of how quickly he lost control, really. Another long, hard suck and Shay was coming – spilling himself in Haytham's mouth and hoarsely shouting the other man's name in a way that sounded like both a helpless plea and mindless praise.
"Damn the devil, Haytham..." Shay said in bliss.
"You didn't even get halfway through it." Haytham said, giving him a mock-disappointed glare. "Make it up to me."
"How do you want me?" Shay asked, shrugging off his coat and undershirt.
"No, Shay. How shall I take you? Tell me how you would like it, and be specific." Haytham said in a husky growl and unceremoniously threw his own coat over his shoulder. He pressed himself against Shay, tracing his hands over the many small scars dotting the rugged hunter's muscular form. Shay felt himself already getting hard again from each careful touch. He grabbed Haytham by the jaw and took him in a fierce, nearly feral kiss – loving the way he could taste himself on Haytham's lips.
"I'm goin' to lie on the desk, Sir." Shay told him in a firm tone, hoping he wouldn't regret speaking to him like this afterward. "I want that cock of yours buried in my arse, and you're goin' to take me until I'm screamin' your name."
"Then get on the desk, and get rid of those bloody pants. It's beyond me why you still have them on." Haytham barked, giving Shay a light slap on the ass. He scrambled to obey, shoving the book of poems aside and pushing a pile of rolled up maps onto the floor like refuse. He squirmed out of his pants and hauled himself up onto the mahogany desk all in one fluid moment. With a sigh, he laid back feeling gloriously exposed with his legs spread wide and Haytham between them. He lived for that feeling, though – being utterly at Haytham's mercy. If nothing else, at least the desk was big enough for him to lay on comfortably with his feet against the arms of the chair for support.
"What shall I do before I take you?" Haytham asked, and Shay just groaned. He was going to make him say every little dirty thing. He just knew it. Fine, if he wanted to play that game, Shay was going to make it as filthy as he could.
"I want you to lick me." He said sweetly, giving Haytham a shit-eating grin.
"Where?" He demanded, running his fingers across a long scar on Shay's inner thigh.
"Here." Shay said, brushing his own fingers across his hole. He saw the barest hint if uncertainly pass over Haytham's unreadable features, but he knew his pride wouldn't let him back down. Besides, Shay fearlessly tackled anything Haytham wanted to try and he knew he would return the favor. The wet heat of Haytham's tongue as it flicked over the puckered skin sent shock waves through Shay's body. He was moaning desperately as the pressure increased and Haytham licked hungrily.
"Put your tongue inside." Shay pressed, gripping the edge of the desk tightly for stability. Haytham complied, flicking his tongue gently into the tight heat. He did it again and again, sometimes sucking as well. Shay whimpered and his head fell back against the desk with a thud. This, he decided, he liked a lot. He'd have to show Haytham how nice it felt next time.
"And now?" Haytham asked with a smirk, licking his lips. Shay just shook his head, doubting he'd even know his own name at the moment.
"I don't care, really. Whatever you like." Shay replied, a little irritated that Haytham expected him to be capable of coherent thought in that situation. In the past when he was still an Assassin, Shay had a habit of thinking more with his cock than his brain. Unfortunately, that trait had resurfaced with a vengeance the first time Haytham had kissed him. ...And damn if he was going to fight it. He'd been a little uncertain about being with a man the first time, but now he wouldn't trade it for all the gold and gems in the world. His girls from Havana and Lisbon had nothing on Haytham.
Shay gasped and arched his back involuntarily as Haytham pressed an oil slicked finger against his entrance. Where had he even gotten the oil from? Shay wasn't sure he wanted to know, because he couldn't get it out of his head that the man just carried it around with him at all times, much like his hidden blade. He writhed against the desk as Haytham began preparing him, watching the hunter with lust-clouded eyes. Shay mewled, catlike as Haytham found his prostate and it sent spasms of pleasure through his body that was aching with need.
"What was it you wanted me to do with you? I seem to have forgotten..." Haytham drawled, pressing a third finger inside of Shay. The ex-Assassin fought the urge to just do it in himself, seeing as Haytham was so fond of teasing him, apparently.
"You know what I said." Shay mumbled, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the edge of the desk.
"I want to hear you say it." Haytham told him, and put himself in position but didn't move. Shay squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about how he would never be able to look him in the eye and keep a straight face after this. Then again, the others probably knew what they had been doing in their spare time by now...
"Fuck me, damn it." Shay growled.
"Where are your manners, now? Ask nicely for me." Haytham replied, with a smirk. Shay was immediately reminded of that comment he made to Achilles in the precursor temple about how they were working on remedying his poor attitude. He'd never dig himself out of the shame.
"Fuck me please, Sir." Shay said in defeat. Haytham sighed theatrically and buried himself to the hilt inside of Shay with one, fluid movement. The hunter moaned in a sinful combination of bliss and pain.
"I suppose that will have to suffice for now." Haytham chided him, and began to move in a steady, merciless pace. Shay melted into him, adjusting quickly to the feeling of Haytham inside of him. They both preferred it at least a little rough, but there were plenty of times that they'd take things slowly too. That day was not one of those times. Haytham was more than a little needy after already being half-mast before Shay even started reading to him. And Shay... He didn't care either way. He took more pleasure out of letting Haytham use him as needed than anything. He always hoped not to disappoint the man with his work for the Templars, so in a sense it was just the natural flow of things that Shay would be so elated to be able to bring Haytham pleasure.
Shay whimpered and choked on his breath as Haytham sped up his pace, pounding into him in a quick, hard rhythm. Shay could feel the vellum of a map that he was laying on top being crumpled slightly as the force of Haytham's thrusts rocked him against the solid surface of the desk. He'd be all sorts of sore later, but seeing the look of pure abandon and the faint flush in Haytham's cheeks was worth it. When he was very near to climax, was the only time the Grandmaster let his visage of perfect composure falter.
Shay let his eyes flutter closed as he felt the edge fast approaching. He willfully lost himself in the pleasure, tuning out everything else around him save for the intensity of Haytham's rough thrusts and the obscene sounds they were both making. One of Haytham's hands wrapped itself around Shay's leaking cock, and stroked him in a teasing pattern. Shay's breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to hold back the pressure building in his gut to make it last at least a little longer for Haytham. He had no such luck, though. Haytham leaned over and pressed a hot kiss to Shay's forehead, running his fingers through his hair. For a fraction of a second before the world shattered around him, their eyes met and Shay could see a million unspoken truths in Haytham's unguarded expression. He knew the man loved him, even if he only said so rarely. But he didn't need to. It was obvious in everything he did, and Shay could always hear the fondness for him in Haytham's voice when they spoke, even if everyone else around them was completely oblivious to it.
"Haytham..." Shay sighed, his entire body convulsing in ecstasy. He could feel the heat of his release as it pooled on his stomach, still coming in small spurts. Haytham mumbled something incoherently as a few more deep, rough thrusts brought him over the edge, too. He buried himself inside of Shay as far as he could when emptied himself, Shay feeling the warmth of it deep in his gut. They stayed like that for a few moments, both of them slick with sweat and breathing raggedly.
"Next time," Haytham panted, "I want you to take me."
"I'll be than happy to oblige, Sir." Shay replied, letting go of the desk to take Haytham's hand in his.
"I look forward to it." Haytham said in a sultry whisper, and slowly withdrew himself from Shay's tight heat. Shay's breath hitched as he did, and he gave the slightly older man a lazy smile.
They both needed this, he knew. Shay needed the distraction of Haytham's tender touches to remind that he wasn't, in fact, a cold-hearted killer who was alone in the world. And Haytham, he'd never admit it aloud, but Shay knew he kept him grounded. Maybe it was just the sex the first few times, but neither one of them would be in a position to deny that it was becoming something else entirely as time went by.
"Clean yourself up, Shay. I do actually have work for you." Haytham said, dragging Shay out of his thoughts.
"Aye, if you insist." He said, sliding off the desk. Absently, he grabbed his discarded shirt and used it wipe away the mess on his stomach. He would go find clean clothes, anyway. He'd encountered Charles once while smelling like sex and wearing a rumpled shirt. ...Needless to say, it was not an experience he desired to repeat. As he left the office and made a beeline for his bathroom, Shay wondered to himself if by 'work' Haytham meant another go. He wouldn't past the man, really his sexual appetite was surprising. ...Not that it bothered Shay. He always came running for more, after all.