Pink Camellias and Red Tulips
Disclaimer: Why can't I own these wonderful men? *checks bank account* Oh yeah, it's because I'm poor...
WARNINGS: Slash, fluff, frottage, etc.
Note: flower meanings- TULIP (RED) - Believe Me, Declaration of Love and CAMELLIA (PINK) - Longing for you and ORCHID- love; plant meanings- COCONUT- Purification, protection, chastity
000/000
Antsy was the word of the hour and Desmond Miles was feeling it without a doubt. He didn't like being in the open like this. The again Novice assassin danced a little in place as he stood there in the middle of Fountain Square. Cincinnati was cold in early November so it was reasonable to have one's hood pulled up over the crown of one's head. His hands were shoved deep into his sweatshirt's pockets. Desmond bounced on the balls of his feet. The backpack resting on his shoulders shifted with the small movement. His now golden eyes, Eagle Vision at its best, scanned the crowds anxiously for his contact to be highlighted in blue. He didn't twitch, actually settling down, when someone scuttled up next to him, shining blue to his bright, supernatural eyes. It was the woman Shaun had told him about, her massively curling brown hair tied back with a crimson ribbon.
Desmond's contact for one of the safe-houses was now beside him.
"The rain stays where?" she asked in a crisp and familiar British accent without looking at him directly.
"Mainly on the plain," Desmond replied, slightly embarrassed about reciting lines from 'My Fair Lady'.
"And where is that plain?"
"In Spain."
The brunette nodded her head. "Very well, then, Mr. Higgins," she said. She then slipped a piece of paper into the front pocket of his jeans. Desmond blushed a little at the intimate action, her slim hand brushing his denim clad thigh. With that done, the woman melted away back into the crowds.
Desmond stayed a few moments more and without turning his head about suspiciously, he slipped between the walking people in the opposite direction. He subtly dug into his jean pocket to pull out the paper his contact had given him. Memorizing the address, the former bartender crumbled up the slip of paper and ate it with barely a grimace.
000/000
Desmond sat back in the taxi seat and gazed out the window at the skyscrapers that seemed to whiz by his view. He had pushed his white hood back, his scarred lips turned down into a small frown. The memory of when he and the other three had split up in a hurry plagued him. Rebecca was with their Animus, hiding somewhere to the northwestern part of the state. Shaun had been forced to scarper off to the northeast, while Lucy was in the southeastern section of Ohio. And Desmond was in Southwest Ohio. Realistically, the Ibn-La'Ahad descendant knew that this separation was necessary and would hopefully be enough to throw off Abstergo from their hunt. It didn't mean he had to like it though.
"The safe-house you'll be going to belongs to one of our Master assassin brothers," Lucy said from his memory. "Don't worry; he'll hide you really well. I also asked him to help you with your physical training during this time. It might be a few weeks at most before we can get back together to start searching for the Temples that Minerva spoke about in Ezio's memories."
The Novice sighed and smiled tiredly at the cab driver that was glancing at him through the rearview mirror. Finally the taxi rolled to a stop at the rent-a-car place in Western Hills. "Here you are, sir," the driver said. He then rattled off the numbers that made up the fee. Desmond paid him plus tip, grabbed his backpack, and slid out of the yellow and black car.
Hopefully Desmond wouldn't get lost on his way to the farthest corner of the tri-state area.
000/000
Harry James Potter, wizard-born assassin, scrambled about his home in a frenzy. His British Bombay cat, a gift from Hermione, was lying in front of the heat vent, watching his owner flitter around. His gold-green eyes seemed to glitter in amusement. The tip of his tail ticked back and forth. Harry looked down at the black cat with a scowl, his arms filled with magical objects that had been strewn about the place. "Think this is funny, do you?" he asked. "Honestly, Pips! If I didn't owe Lucy, I would never take on some Novice who was my age. Especially a Novice who had run away the first time!" Pips, short for Sir Pippinton, let a warbling meow and sneezed. "Exactly!"
Hurrying off, the wizard stomped through the open door that led down to the basement. Once down the steps, he turned right to face a bare wall. He shifted his burden to one arm and reached out with glowing fingertips. Harry channeled his magic and tapped a series of cement cinderblocks. Like with Diagon Alley, the blocks folded into themselves to create an archway that led into a hidden room. It was there that Harry carefully placed the magical objects and moving pictures onto various shelves. He sighed and stepped out, the doorway closing back behind him. He then dug into his back denim trousers pocket to pull out a pocket watch. Clicking it open, the green-eyed wizard gazed at the twelve moving hands and determined the time.
"AH! He'll be here soon!" Harry cried out, scurrying up the basement steps. "Tea! No, coffee! Lucy, damn her hide, says that he prefers coffee!" he announced to Pips as he strode by the lazing feline. "These Americans and their coffee... And I have to put the Muggle versions of my pictures back up! Damn it!" Aiming his wand over his shoulder through the kitchen doorway, Harry, with just his will alone, magicked the pictures onto the once bare spots on the walls and on the various tables that once held Wizarding pictures.
Pips sniffed delicately and rolled over to warm his other side by the vent.
000/000
The man at the Sunoco gas station had been very helpful in giving directions to the address his contact in the city had provided him. Desmond walked back to his rented car with a sigh. After getting into the vehicle, he began to drive around the winding streets that made up the Old Meadows suburb. Thankful for the directions, the Novice turned onto Whippoorwill Street and kept an eye out for number ninety-eight. It only took a few seconds really and he finally found the cheerfully painted ranch house. He pulled into the driveway in front of the garage door. Getting out of the car, Desmond pulled his backpack on and closed the door, locking it up. He breathed in deeply and readied himself, knocking on the door.
When the door was open a crack, a soft tenor with a British accent spoke. "The rain in Spain stay mainly on the plain," the voice said, a bright green eye peeking out.
"And I could have danced all night," Desmond replied. He smiled a little when the door opened all the way. The chocolate-eyed man tried not to give himself away by choking on his own breath. Attraction zinged through his veins. "Hi." Ah God, he sounded so lame!
"Hello, come in please," the handsome stranger said, stepping aside. "Welcome to Harrison." He laughed a little. "And my name is Harry." He then pointed at black cat lying on the sofa. "That's Pips."
"I'm Desmond. Nice to meet you and Pips," the Novice managed to say as he stepped through the doorway. Walking further into the living room, he eyed the flat-screen TV hanging on the wall. "Cool TV."
"Thanks. Let's get you settled in, yes?"
000/000
Harry, despite his short stature, quiet voice, and aristocratic face, was a slave driver. The work-out equipment in the basement was definitely being put to good use for Desmond's training. And the pair of assassins was burning up the seven mile running path at the Whitewater State Park. Harry insisted on working on his stamina and strength to compliment what he had learned through Ezio in the Animus.
"I don't give a flying fuck if you were training using a Master's memory!" Harry had said the first time the other man had complained. "You'll end up killing yourself if you don't train up your body to match the skills you learned in that damned Animus. The rest of us never had the luxury of learning free-running and assassin skills within just a few weeks. Now keep running, you American ass."
Currently they were stealth training in the woods. Harry was the hunter and Desmond was the hunted. Sometimes the shorter brunet would haul him to a more urban area like Western Hills or one of the malls to practice his blending. Yep, the other man was a slave driver but the Novice was grateful for the training and the chance to just be outside.
Then the sound of fallen twigs snapping caught Desmond's attention and he ducked behind a tree. Tension eased away from his shoulders when a deer ambled past. Then he squeaked when he felt a hand brush the top of his head from above. He looked up and cursed. "Hi, Harry," the former bartender said lamely.
"You're getting better," Harry replied in lieu of a greeting. He was hanging upside down on a thick branch like a kid hanging from the monkey bars of a playground, grinning like a lunatic. He motioned for Desmond to step back and then he flipped down to land in a crouch on the ground. The green-eyed assassin popped up from the crouch with a little bounce. "How about we head back to the house and have some lunch?"
"Bacon sandwiches?" Desmond asked hopefully. He smiled sheepishly when the other man laughed at him and grabbed his wrist. The Ibn-La'Ahad descendant fought a blush.
"Only because you asked for some," the wizard said, his green eyes bright and amused. "Come on! We'll cross the creek and get back onto the walking path. The faster we get back, the faster I can fry up some pork just for you." Harry tugged him along.
Desmond soaked up the contact. He liked the warmth of Harry's hand circling his wrist. It wouldn't take much movement to have the shorter man hold his hand instead of his wrist. God, he got the warm fuzzies just from thinking of holding hands with Harry.
The subtle scent of coconut and orchid wafted up from Harry's hair to his nose as Desmond walked a bit closer to the wizard.
000/000
Harry felt like he was going crazy. Glancing up at Desmond sitting at the counter watching him, the wizard tried not to blush and turned back to flip the bacon. How could he be attracted to a Novice? Never mind that his training was pushing him that much closer to Mastery. Besides, the other assassin was probably as straight as a ruler, just like Harry was as bent as a rainbow. He cursed under his breath when a spot of grease jumped out of the pan onto the skin of his wrist. Pips let out a meow at the sound and rubbed his head against Harry's ankle.
"You okay?" Desmond asked, leaning over the counter from his seat on the barstool to get a better look.
The wizard-born assassin rubbed at the reddened dot of skin on his wrist. "I'm fine. Happens a lot when I cook bacon," he said. He nudged his bacon-begging cat away with his sock-cover foot. "So, it's been a couple of weeks..."
"Yeah, and still nothing from Lucy or anyone else," the Novice said glumly.
"Worried?" Harry asked. He suppressed the urge to kiss away the pout on the other's face.
"Definitely. I even kinda miss Shaun."
Harry laughed. "Yes, he is a bit much," he conceded.
"You're just as snarky as he is," Desmond pointed out. "Must be a British thing."
"Nonsense! You give just as good as you get," Harry soothed as he placed the done bacon on a paper towel covered plate to soak up the excess grease. He then began to prepare the sliced bread with cheese and mayonnaise. "Two sandwiches okay?"
"Yeah, perfect! Thanks, man. Hey, Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"Are we friends?"
At the odd question, Harry looked up. He raised his eyebrows at the serious expression on the other brunet's face. "I think we are," he said quietly. A slow, pleased smile spread across his face. "Yes, we're friends, Desmond." But the wizard mourned inside for he knew that friendship was likely the only thing he would have with the Ibn-La'Ahad descendant.
000/000
"Shit..." Desmond moaned when he snapped his cell-phone closed. Harry looked up from his mending in silent question. "That was Lucy," the Novice said.
"Not good news?" Harry asked from his spot on the living room floor.
"I'm going to have to stay here for a while longer. Not to say that here's bad or anything! It's just..."
"I understand," the wizard said. "You're worried and you're anxious to get back to work on your ancestor's memories." With one last stitch to the closed hole in his jeans' pocket, Harry snipped off the excess thread and stuck the needle into the little cloth tomato by his thigh. Then he shoved his arms into the inside out legs of his trousers to pull them back through. Once that was done, the green-eyed man folded up the denim jeans and placed them in his laundry basket of clean clothes. Then he packed up his sewing basket and placed it under the coffee table that was beneath the mounted flat-screen TV. "There. Now then..." He looked up at the standing Desmond who was quietly staring at him. "What is it, Desmond?"
Desmond shook his head and knelt down before the sitting wizard, resting his hands on top of his corded thighs. "Harry, I..." He bit his lower lip. "I really like you, you know."
Harry blinked. "Uh, yes, I like you too. We're friends, remember?" He smiled a little. But confusion clouded his green eyes when the Novice, who was actually slightly older than him by a few months, leaned forward, their noses brushing together. "Desmond?"
"I sound like a kid but I like you, like you," Desmond breathed out, taking a chance. His chocolate brown eyes stared into Harry's viridian orbs. He reached out with his right hand and brushed his knuckles against the smooth skin of Harry's cheek then his hand fell to cup the wizard's shoulder. "God, I'm so gay for you, it's not even funny. Please don't hate me."
"I could never hate you," Harry whispered. "But I never thought you would feel the same way that I felt for you. This is moving so fast and I... do like you, Desmond." His own hands went to touch Desmond; one laid flat on the hard muscle of his right thigh while the other intertwined with Desmond's left hand resting on his other thigh. "Watching you train so hard and do it with mostly good grace made me respect you. But your smile and the flare of your eyes when you get something right drew me in like a moth to the flame." He leaned up, their lips nearly kissing. "Desmond."
With a groan, Desmond closed the distance between their mouths. Taking his other hand from Harry's to grip at his other shoulder, the former bartender coaxed the kiss into an open one. Their tongues tangled in moist pleasure. He felt Harry's hand creep up his thighs to grip at the belt loops of his jeans. He drew back a little, panting, then went back for more. The wet sounds of their kisses filled the mostly quiet living room. The flavor of the stew they had had for supper mingled between their mouths and beneath that Desmond could taste the essence that was just Harry. He breathed in the scent of orchids and coconut and musk that rose from Harry's hair and skin. Finally the kissing ended and Desmond rested his forehead against Harry's.
"Hi," Desmond said with a smile.
Harry smiled back. "Hi," he replied. His lips were a bruised pink that was slightly darker than the blush staining his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "That was nice."
"Just nice? I'll show you nice." Laughing the two tumbled back onto the plush carpet. Harry reached around to grasp at the back of Desmond's simple white t-shirt, his mouth once again connecting with the Novice's into a deepening kiss. His legs bent up, his thighs cradling the slightly older man's hips. Desmond's hands trailed down the Master Assassin's sides to grip his hips and ground down. He swallowed Harry's pleasured gasp. "How's that for nice?" Desmond asked between each drugging kiss.
"Hmm, definitely more than nice. Now kiss me some more," Harry demanded. Desmond laughed and pulled away, kneeling between the wizard's spread thighs. "Hey! I said kiss me some more... oh!" The shorter brunet watched as his new lover reached over his shoulders to gracefully tug off his shirt.
Desmond leaned back down to give in to the Master's demand for more kisses. He groaned as Harry's hands caressed the tight skin covering his broad, bare chest. "Ah! So good, Harry," he gasped out against the wizard's mouth. He started to unbutton Harry's shirt and spread it open to let his calloused fingers danced across the bared skin, all the while still kissing him. Desmond moaned when Harry arched his hips up for more friction. He planted his hands flat on either side of Harry's head and started grinding against the wizard's own swiveling hips. The muscles of his dusky-skinned back rippled and glistened with sweat as they engaged in frottage He pulled his lips away to kiss along the wizard's brow and cheeks. "That's it, take it. Take your pleasure," Desmond crooned. He groaned deep in his chest when Harry's fingers dug into his back.
"Ah! Ah! Desmond!" Harry cried out. His feet were flat against the carpet to give him more leverage. Their hips undulated together. Harry writhed and bowed his back, baring his neck for Desmond's pleasure. And the Novice began to suck on the offered muscle of Harry's neck.
"Fuck, baby, so damn good!" Desmond gave a long lick to the graceful arch of pale flesh beneath his lips. "You like that? Hmm?"
"Gonna... gonna cum!" the wizard gasped. His hips started moving faster against Desmond's own thrusting hips.
"That's right, let me see it!" The former bartender took one of his hands away from where it had been pressing on the carpet by Harry's temple and trailed it down to the back of the wizard's thigh. He lifted the leg up to wrap around his waist. "Cum for me," he purred in Harry's ear. Then he began to croon softly in Renaissance Italian, his tongue flicking out against Harry's earlobe. He didn't mind the pain when Harry's fingers scratched red lines into the muscles of his back. Harry arched up, nearly bucking Desmond off, and sobbed out his release. Desmond, immensely pleased that he had made Harry orgasm, followed his lover into oblivion with a loud grunt. His hips jerked a few times as he emptied himself into his boxers. He sighed and rolled off of the panting man beneath him. He then tugged the wizard over to cuddle him close.
"Definitely have to wash our boxers," Harry mumbled against his lover's still heaving chest. Desmond just laughed and held Harry closer.
Pips, who had been hiding under the couch when his humans started to hump without actually mating, streaked out to head for his master's bedroom to hide there under his bed. Which probably wasn't a good idea in the long run; Desmond and Harry would most likely head there once they managed to pry themselves off of the carpeted floor of the living room.
000/000
END
Yum, lime flavored goodness. XD Hope you enjoyed it! And I realized that I used the word 'thigh' a lot. But then, I think a well-formed thigh is sexy... Unf, unf. :B