She said I'm going use my teeth and my claws
She said I'm going use my teeth and my claws
She said I'm going use my teeth and my breasts
I'm gonna make it happen- 'Positive Tension' Bloc Party

The first time Altair met the two new kids he was going to be fostering for a year, he could only think that the bitter looking seventeen year-old named Malik would give him trouble. The younger of the two, the fourteen year-old Kadar, seemed to instantly cling to his new foster father; he liked to follow around the writer, asking question upon question about Altair's job, his wife Maria (living with her parents; a mutual agreement they had both come to after a discreet breakup).

Malik seemed less than hospitable toward him, which Altair had no problems with. He preferred to stay curled up on the large couch with a book or a beaten-up leather journal that he seemed to take everywhere with him. He would glare at Altair whenever the man tried to make conversation, hand coming up to bite at his thumb knuckle (a habit, Altair later found out, he had taken up instead of thumb sucking). Dark blue eyes would peer over the edge of his book or journal, or the teenager would glare up at the writer from under dark eyelashes and black bangs.

Altair was pretty sure the one-armed teenager hated him, and it wasn't as if he hadn't experienced that before. Kids who had been tossed from one foster home to the other always had that sort of roughness to them; it was a coping mechanism which Altair knew too well of, having been a foster kid himself.

The three had come to something resembling a shaky family, or roommates for lack of a better word. The two teenagers went to school while Altair worked from home, they came home, ate dinner while Kadar filled the silence with chatter about his day, Malik would migrate back to the couch with another lengthy book in his thin hands, and Kadar would pester his foster father till it was time for bed. It was somewhat of a comfortable routine (even if Altair didn't get much work done with the hyperactive fourteen year-old around).

Malik and he hadn't really held a conversation in the three months the boys had been living with him, and again Altair was pretty sure that the teenager hated him.

That was why he was surprised when, during the boys' summer holiday, Malik actually approached him with a question. The writer blinked at his foster child, watching as the seventeen year-old glared, embarrassed at his feet. Altair noticed pink beginning to colour Malik's cheeks and ears, and he felt a smile threaten to tip his lips upward.

"You want to go...swimming?" Malik huffed and snapped his gaze back to meet Altair's.

"Yes. Actually, Kadar wants to, but he thinks that you won't let us." The teenager had a nice voice; accented and slightly rough. Altair stopped his train of though, mentally taking a step back and slapping himself. What the hell was he thinking? "I told him that was an idiotic notion, then he started crying. That's why I'm asking, instead of him."

The writer leaned back in his office chair, resting his chin on his palm. He sighed, closing his eyes while he heard Malik shift from one foot to the other. "Well...I, um, don't really swim..." A soft scoff followed this.

"Can you not swim?" Altair cracked an eye open and glared at the slightly smirking teenager. Malik rolled his upward, and turned on his heel. "I'll tell Kadar we're not going because our 'dearest father' is afraid of water."

Altair groaned lightly, turning in his chair and booting up his laptop. "Actually, tell him we are going." You little shit. He heard a small, triumphant noise from behind him.

"Thank you, dad."

()()

The swimming trip was uneventful, and as far as Altair's slight phobia of deep bodies of water went, he was glad to at least have brought along an interesting novel.

The boys swam close together, chatting happily in their mother tongue while they challenged each other to use the high board. (This was how he learned that Malik was afraid of heights; Kadar happily proclaimed his older brother a 'pussy footed woman who wasn't able to get a date for the prom' when the eldest refused to jump off more than once).

Altair kept a close eye on the two teenagers, watching as Malik dunked his brother with a tiny smirk on his face. The writer noted that, although the boy was missing an arm, he moved easily through the pool, swimming quickly away from his angered brother while dodging other pool-goers.

Their eyes caught, and a scowl replaced the happy smile Malik wore only moments before. Altair blinked and returned his gaze to his book, feeling Malik's glare rather than seeing it.

()()

His mouth was hot against sweaty skin; he marked the flesh with his teeth while groaning lowly as a thin hand roughly rubbed at his sex. Chests were pulled flush against each other, and long legs were wrapped around his waist. An eager noise left his partner's rosy coloured mouth as fingers began to prod. Dark blue eyes locked with gold as a second, third finger was added.

Malik's chest rose and fell while he sucked at his collar bone, guiding his erection toward his bed partner's entrance. "Altair, please."

The writer's eyes flew open; his heart pounded loudly and he blearily blinked away sleep from his eyes. Altair swallowed tacky sleep spit and allowed his breathing to return to normal. He cracked his neck, glaring down at his desk before standing awkwardly.

The writer waited until his body seemed calm enough to walk to his bedroom. Eyes caught on light that spilled from the living room, indicating that he wasn't the only one awake.

Altair padded noiselessly to the doorway, mentally groaning when Malik looked up from his book. "...what are you still doing up?" He asked, voice husky from sleep (and other things that he wasn't going to think about at the moment.)

The teenager glanced at the clock that read 4:25 and returned his gaze back onto Altair. A dark eyebrow rose and a small smirk flirted with the edge of his mouth. "I could ask the same to you."

Altair frowned, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms. "I just woke up and I was heading back to bed. So I'm going to ask again, why are you still up?"

Malik snorted softly and plucked his bookmark from his blanket covered lap. "Stop trying to act so high and mighty." The teenager marked his book and stood, stretching out the kinks in his back while his gaze remain locked with his foster father's. Altair's frown deepened, and his eyes narrowed. He was missing needed sleep due to this kid.

The teenager picked up his blanket and walked up to the taller male. He looked up, a slightly coy smile perking his lips upward. "You know, I would try to be quieter next time, dad." Altair's eyes widened as soft laughter followed the boy out of the room.

()()

He glared into his mug, jaw clenched in irritation as he felt fatigue's fingers digging deeply into his eye sockets. Why the hell did he have that dream the night before? Was he some sort of pervert, and why did Malik merely brush it off like it was a joke?

Images kept flashing over the insides of his lids like some sort of porno. The writer rubbed his face tiredly, slouching over the countertop with a groaning sigh.

The sound of tired footsteps brought Altair out of his angst, and he watched quietly as Kadar stumbled into the kitchen, a yawn and 'good morning' tumbling out of his mouth. The fourteen year-old fumbled in the cabinets, pulling out Lucky Charms and his own coffee mug while the elder of the two joined them.

Altair refused to glance at the seventeen year-old, choosing to sip at his cold coffee while ignoring Kadar who had nodded off into his bowl of cereal. In his peripheral vision, Altair could see Malik glancing his way with a slightly annoyed expression. Good. The writer walked out of the kitchen smirking.

()()

The writer sat staring at his computer screen, mouth turned down in irritation as the curser blinked uselessly at him. The document was blank, and an annoyingly loud pink post-it note attached to the side of his screen declared that his deadline was less than four months away. Fuck my life. Altair grabbed for his mug and grumbled lowly when nothing was in it. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, fatigue washing over him.

"Do you ever work?" The writer jolted slightly, head snapping around to see Malik standing in the doorway. Seriously, fuck my life. Altair watched as the teenager shut the door behind him, and the soft sound of the lock being activated all but echoed in his ears.

"...what are you doing." He watched as Malik picked up some research books from the floor with a slightly abhorred expression. The teenager ran the tips of his fingers almost lovingly down the spins of the books as he reshelved them, and Altair felt a small shiver go down his spine.

"Picking up the pigsty that you call your work space." Malik glanced up at him from under dark lashes, a brow raising. "What does it look like?"

Altair pursed his lips together in agitation, standing from his chair and glaring down at the teenager. "You know what I meant, Malik."

"No, I don't. Care to reiterate, dad?" Altair's jaw clenched.

"Don't call me that." Malik straightened, chin lifting in defiance and a smirk on his mouth.

"Why? Make you feel like a pervert, daddy?"

"Stop."

"Make me."

The teenager was shoved against the wall, his mouth covered by a rough and greedy one. Malik pressed back as well, his teeth nipping almost angrily at Altair's bottom lip, hot tongue sliding over the slightly bloody skin while his hand tugged at his foster father's hair. A groan passed between their mouths as teeth clicked together; Altair removed one of his hands from the wall behind the teenager's head and began to tug at the dark navy shirt Malik wore.

They pulled back, gulping down air while their hands sought to find more skin to touch. Malik's fingers quickly unzipped the white hoodie Altair wore, hand sliding under the red tee shirt in order to trail the muscle underneath. Altair removed the teenager's shirt, throwing it in some obscure direction, not caring where it landed as his mouth attacked one of Malik's quickly hardening nipples.

The teenager hissed softly, fingernails digging into the writer's stomach, causing a low growl to leave the older male's mouth. Their hips ground together, each craving friction; Malik groaned slightly and tugged at Altair's shirt, giving the writer a soft pout until the offending garment was removed.

Altair shuddered when Malik's fingers dove into the front of his pants, fondling his sex while the teenager struggled with his own problem. "Shit," Malik breathed, eyebrows furrowing in irritation. "Wh-what a time to only ha-ah-ve one arm..."

The older male snorted lightly, kissing under Malik's jaw before whispering: "Karma, bitch." His teeth latched onto the teenager's ear, causing Malik to buck his hips and give a low moan.

"F-fuck you, Altair." Another harsh bite was given to the teenager's ear before a tongue followed, almost as if the elder was apologizing. Malik shuddered lightly, but retaliated in pinching and rolling one of the writer's nipples, causing a low groan to tumble out of Altair's lips.

They moved to the office chair; it groaned under the weight of the two as Malik straddled the elder's hips. He connected their mouths again, savagely sucking at Altair's lower lip while rocking his hips as the elder thrust upward. The teenager bit at his foster father's neck, sucking harshly on the skin.

Altair moved his hands to Malik's arse, fingers squeezing appreciatively while the younger undid the button on the elder's pants. Malik's hand dove into the front of Altair's pants, palming his erection, causing the other male to hiss and groan.

A four fingered hand began to undo the teenager's pants button while the other slide into the fabric in order to squeeze and rub at Malik's own sex. They groaned into each other's mouths; Malik rocked his hips again, dropping his forehead to rest on the elder's shoulder. His finger slipped over the head of Altair's sex, thumbing the slit and smirking when the other violently thrust into his hand.

Altair bit down on the teenager's shoulder, squeezing Malik's shaft in time with his nipping. The younger mewled and groaned out in his mother tongue. Altair answered back lowly, sucking on the younger's skin, leaving marks he knew.

Malik shuddered as the familiar syllables and words slid over his skin like silk. He made a soft choking noise in the back of his throat, feeling his balls tighten in preparation of orgasm. He quickened his pace on Altair's sex, groaning loudly as he spilled himself over his foster father's hand.

Altair thrust into Malik's hand, hissing and growling lowly as the teenager's hand made quick work of him. He shuddered and smirked as he felt Malik's seed on his hand; his breath was coming out in short pants, and he could feel his own orgasm coming closer. The writer came with a low moan, clinging to the teenager as he road out his orgasm.

He fell heavily against the back of the chair, Malik following suit as they both gulped down air. He felt the teenager give a small kiss to his neck, the action gentle after the rough play before. Altair's eyes fell closed, and he breathed slowly through his nose. A thought occurred to him.

"Malik."

"hm?"

"...where's your brother?"

He felt the teenager smirk against his neck while fingers trailed down his chest. "Still asleep in his cereal."

()-()

...umm Why did I make Malik have a daddy kink? (please don't kill me)