When one goes about the tricky business of falling in love, all concept of time is lost. The seconds stretch, not in a way that is bore some or tedious, but in a way that saviors each passing drop like juice on a thirsty man's tongue. That is the way people fall fast and suddenly in love, tripping head over heals down a slippery slope with no hope of stopping.
Only a matter of time had passed since Haytham had Ziio in his company, yet it felt like a lifetime. He did not count the months that passed when they quested for Braddock's death, for their time together had been few and far between. No Haytham counted the hours that had passed since his disappointment at the opening, the hours in which he had her, and only her, as his soul companion.
During this time, it was as if all power had been lost from Haytham. He bent easily to her will, moved with every gentle push, followed where he was pulled. Ziio persuaded him to stay, in her own special way, and every time he tried to change their roles she would push him back down by the shoulders and kiss him still. Back to the ground, greedy hands grabbing fistfuls of cloth and seeking out the warmth of bare skin; Haytham belonged to Ziio in those moments, to Ziio and no one else.
But despite all power being relinquished, Haytham was still greedy in his need. His fingers fumbled with the ties of the foreign clothes he wore, impatience ridding him of his normal smoothness. But with all the smoothness of his person lost, Ziio made up for it. Every puckered ridge of scarring and hard expanse of muscle was met with soft skin and subtle curves and lightly defined muscle. She has scars also, some as rough and ridged as his own, but Haytham saw them as trophies and sort to worship them, kissing and sucking when she allowed him to.
Ziio settled upon his hips, straddling him and keeping him to the ground so their position may not be reversed. It was met with no protest, for he was liquid in her hands and only melted further as he rocked back against his hardness, still clothed but barely so. Ziio had all the power to make Haytham beg, but she did not, either convinced by his swallowed back moans or swayed by the earnest of her own want. It did not matter either way. All that mattered was that she shed the irritating breeches and splayed her fingers out across his muscled abdomen and sank slowly back onto his cock. Ziio allowed amusement to shine upon her face when Haytham's head fell back so hard against the rock she feared he may have blackened his own vision for a moment. Even if he had, Haytham made no indication of pain, just sort out her hips with the curve of his hands to encourage her further.
Smiling, Ziio pulled Haytham up to kiss her and settled a rhythm in his lap.
It would not be the only they have sex during their time together. Both were selfish like foolish childhood sweethearts in their endeavourers to discover. Still they were content to please one another; Ziio with her seductive stories and compelling attitude, and Haytham with his head between her legs.
At that moment in time, Haytham did not fully realize how he had grown to love another. Love is a fickle thing, something Haytham sort to steer clear from, and because of this he ignored all indications of the emotion causing a whirlwind in his stomach. He subconsciously surprised the idea, replacing it instead with feelings of lust and affection, but never love. Sometimes we ignore the capabilities we posses in favor for something easier, and only when it is too late do we realize what potential had formally been possessed.
But Haytham was most surprised when he woke the next day to the feeling of fingers in his loosened hair. Ziio's fingers had not startled him into action as a simple touch normally did…and that only served to surprise him further. Blinking against the sunlight that shone upon the encampment, Haytham leaned slightly into the touch, half awake and lazy in the morning heat.
"What are you doing?" He asked when he felt a gentle but persistent tug on his hair.
"Plaiting. It is common for warriors to wear at least one braid in their hair." Ziio replied, almost a whisper in his ear. Haytham made to turn his head in her direction, but she turned his cheek the other way with a scolding tut.
"So you see me as a warrior do you?" Haytham said with a smile, closing his eyes again as the day had not yet called him to be alert.
"I doubt you would have others see you any differently." The hopeless part of him was disappointed with the response, but the hopeless part was quiet in its objection.
"You should return back today, your men will worry." Ziio said quietly behind him. Haytham frowned, exhaling deeply and allowing one eye to crack open. Birds were singing in the nearby trees and the rock was sun baked beneath the blankets. The idea of dressing back into layers was not appealing in slightest
"I have been gone one night, they are grown men and can take care of themselves."
"I do not think so, some of them seem more like dogs than men." Ziio released his hair, a thin braid with one bead now hidden beneath the rest of his dark locks. Haytham rolled over and rose onto one elbow, seeking out her wait with the other arm
"If you refer to Charles then may I add that he is the most useful dog of them all, even with the other combined."
She smirked "You are the one who said it, not me"
Haytham hummed in amused agreement, all thought of Charles and the rest of the men forgotten as he leaned to kiss her neck. Kissing from jugular to the subtle arch of her throat and down to the hollow dip between her collarbones, Haytham supported his weight with his forearms, rolling so his knees parted either side of her thigh.
Ziio's hands traveled across the bunched muscle of his shoulders, words he did not understand falling from her tongue. It only made Haytham more intrigued, and the hopeless part of him more desperately in love. Still, Haytham continued downward, mouth paying particular attention to the slope of her breasts, tongue lapping the peaks of her brown nipples, before following the centerline to her navel. By now either hand was spread on the ground either side of her hips. Haytham looked up for a moment, to seek permission from the woman who had stolen his heart. Ziio looked back at him with approval and a quickening of breath. Breath that only quickened further when her legs were hitched up and Haytham clever tongue was put to much better use.
They parted ways soon after, long before dusk had even set in. The men did not ask where he had been, and even if they had he wouldn't answer. Charles updated him on the events in his absence and left quietly when excused. There was no room for business in Haytham's head today, only room for brief reminisce soon to be replaced with eternal longing.
Of course, Haytham sort Ziio out many times in the passing month; sometimes with great success, and far too often with failure. It was like hunting for a gem in a pit of dirt.
But when he did find her, be it in the shelter of a great tree, or in a tent assembled in the middle of nowhere, or on the banks of the river, Haytham showed only respect and affection. There was a softness hidden in these moments, almost unnoticeable, which was missing everywhere else. It was secret of course, hidden away under talk and actions that one day it might be buried all together.
Sometimes, Haytham would talk vaguely about the new troubles his order faced. When one life comes to an end, another always follows, along with a new plot and policies and circumstance to adapt to. No detail was shared, not only to spare Ziio from the complexities, but to spare her of the harm knowledge can cause. Haytham would keep her safe as long as he was able, and the less Ziio knew the safer she was.
Ziio sat and listened to him, rubbing the knotted muscle from his limbs and kissing him softly on the back of the neck. She did not mention that her monthly bleed was overdue, did not mention any of the arising suspicion she believes to be true. There was darkness in Haytham these days, lurking deep beneath the skin in dark ripples that barely caught the light. The cause meant everything to him, had consumed him so far that her kisses and gentle touch could only pull him back so far. Ziio did not believe that any mention of the child that may be growing in her belly would bring Haytham back towards the shore, for he had already drowned and now only fooled himself into thinking he was still afloat.
Instead, Ziio molded against Haytham's spine, hands clinging to his bare chest and shoulder in the hope that she would not drown her as well.
That was the last time she saw Haytham. She left a lasting kiss on his lips before merging into the night, knowing full well that she would not see him again.