Anthor's Notes: Aplogies for the long wait, but it's been quite the hectic week. I won't bore you with the details, but thanks for reviews.
HOLY CRAP OVER 100 REVIEWS!!
And since it's Valentines Day, I've left a present for the last part of the chapter for everyone. Teehee I'm such a cow. LOL Enjoy!
Warning: Violence, and sexual implications.
Just Kill the Man
Unwillingly, I was dragged down through the castle by two armed guards. Dragging my weight, I struggled for all it was worth, determined to create as much noise, and waste as much valuable time as possible.
Blood was singing in my ears, urging the adrenaline through my nerves in effort to get away from the guards, but their cold, steel hands clamped my arms firmly in place, and the jab of a knife by my side managed to stop my pleading cries on several occasions, but not silence them completely.
There was no chance I was going to stay here, knowing the castle was thrown into disarray. Even if the "assassin" wasn't (by some feat of incredible coincidence) Altair, the least I could do is help the man if our paths should happen to cross. I kicked, I screamed, I bit down hard when a hand tried to cover my mouth, I cried out desperately for help. The guards were quickly loosing their patience, but I was far too riled and aggravated by the days events to care.
Jerking me down endless corridors and stairs, I hoped, prayed for any sort of disruption to stop the snarling guards, anything to keep me away from Mu'ayyad and his idle hands. I couldn't, I refused to allow that to happen again. Sickening, disgusting man, I thought venomously. How dare he touch me, or even think of such things. Why is it that men seem to forget I am married?
My train of thought was swiftly interrupted when there was a clunk and one of the guards stopped short with a grunt, and toppled over, a dagger protruding from the bridge of his nose, face set in a grimace of pained surprise. The other drew his sword, raising it defensively, and I darted to the side just as a white blur shot from the back, landed on the guard's flanks, and while he was going down a knife jerked into his neck before he could even protest.
Turning, the guard was placed quietly on the floor by armoured hands, and the man stood in robes of gleaming white splattered with red, a snarl etched into his features.
"Altair!" I threw my hands into the air, praising God, thanking him that something finally started to go my way. I could have kissed him I was so happy to see him alive and unharmed, but it was quickly halted when his forearm threw me into the adjacent wall, blocking a volley of arrows that darted past, one managed to rip a hole through his robe. He grunted in disgust, pressed me against the wall, warning me to stay put, and I did as he stepped out to meet the archer, sword bared, his hidden blade unsheathed and ready.
Knowing what was coming, I turned my head away just as there was a swish of white robes, gracefully as he turned, and I saw no more, I only heard the crunch of bone and messy spurts of blood, with choked cries echoing through the halls, the faint splatter as the thick liquid hit the stone when it escaped the fighting body. I cringed, hearing the mass fall to the ground.
He approached quickly, eyes black in shadow, brow completely hidden, but I could feel the intensity, the urgency. He motioned his head to me, and I ran with him, he caught my hand as I fell behind, and he kept going, fast and fluid, leading me down corridors, down and down along the terracotta stone, the red rug crinkling beneath my feet.
Stopping suddenly, he wrapped his arms around me and dragged me into a dark corner, pressing me tightly against his chest, free hand darting up to cover my mouth, and it was lucky he did. A faint gasp managed to worm it's way from my mouth as a group of shouting guards ran past to the opposite corridor, oblivious to us. They disappeared in a clamour of metal. I breathed a sigh.
"My apologies for the prompt intrusion." He whispered into my ear.
"Thank you, for finding me." I whimpered in reply, hugging him tightly.
Racing blood, tired legs and a weak and frail body only managed to carry me as far as what I presumed was the dining room. We had been running for what would be two hours now, occasionally stopping suddenly and hiding when a group of guards got suspicious and tried to hunt us down, or when one or two caught the sight of my red dress billowing behind me, my sandals clicking off the stone. Altair made quick, effortless work of them, and I made sure to look away and think of other things, like going back home and sleeping, or seeing Adham again.
But now I was pulled into a vacant room, small, closed, a pantry of some sort. My chest was heaving, short, raspy breaths coming from my mouth. The castle wasn't that big, it was just an effort to get away from the guards, and where exactly Altair was taking me, I didn't know. I presumed he knew himself.
As always, his breathing was low and controlled, normal compared to mine. I clung to the wall of the tiny room, the only light illuminating a small strip on Altair's face when he peered out from the door.
"Are you alright?" He asked quietly, passing me a wineskin bad with water, which I gulped down gratefully.
Soon, I caught my breath, and managed to mutter, "I'm fine."
I was shaking, partly from exerting myself, and mostly from utter fear. Handing the bag back to him, my back was stiff, sore, and I groaned softly when I tried to stretch but quickly stopped, feeling the wounds crack. And being the critical man he is, instantly noticed. I wouldn't have been surprised if he heard the scabs tighten.
He opened his mouth, as though to ask, but quickly cut himself off and glanced back out the slit of the door, then turned to me and took my hand, putting a finger to his lips. I nodded, stopping him before he opened the door and reached down, to take off the strappy gold sandals around my feet, placing them as quietly on the floor as possible before we slipped back outside.
Against the wall, he guided me as we edged around it, padding feet against the rug and stone, my heart pounded fiercely against my ribs at every, albeit gentle, rustle of metal from afar, but nothing strayed our path. He lead me downwards to a stairs, and I followed obediently.
Motioning for me to stay, I stilled near the banister and he silently crept down the stairs, hand on the hilt of his sword, craning his head to peer around the corner. Nothing, and he beckoned me forward, guiding me down the spiralling stairs of what I presumed was one of the towers. At every break to a new floor, he paused to look for signs of life, but still nothing. Personally, I found that odd, and judging by his cautious movements he too was paranoid of a sudden attack.
Silence. And it was pressing. It was far, far too quiet, and surely Altair felt the same way. Or perhaps I was just being too suspicious. Would it not be a good thing, that no one was near? Even my gulp sounded loud as it echoed down the stairs against the matte stone, and I shivered, in spite of myself.
We stepped out on the last floor, his leather boots oddly silent against the floor and he unsheathed his hidden blade, bracing himself for attack. We treaded softly, and I caught the very faint murmur of voices up ahead. He looked back, reassuringly nodding to me and inclining his head forwards. I followed. One of the doors was ajar in front, and the mumble of speaking me travelled outside.
It was either turn back, which wasn't much of an option considering we just walked the whole way down, or edge around. He chose the latter, stopping short of the door behind it, his eyes looking to the far corner of the room inside.
The room however, was but a small pathway of a balcony to the room below, as I discovered when he pulled me down to a crouch with a hand on the back of my neck, and watched, listened rather. I rubbed my neck. That hurt, considering the pain I've been in for… however long I have been here.
"… And I have told you already, there is no sign of them!" One guard thumped his fist off the wooden table in the centre of the room, devoid of windows with only few crackling candelabras with torches.
I twitched, catching sight of Mu'ayyad on the opposite side who was snarling in disgust and spitting at the guards. "Assassins do not just disappear!" He looked down his nose at them, hands balled into fists, his rings catching the flickering lights. "If I have to tell you to search this dammed castle a hundred times over again, I will! I want no excuses next time, you will find that woman and bring her back to me, unharmed, do I make myself quite clear?"
Though the man was decidedly quiet with me, regardless of the situation he had me in, he could produce a fearsome snarl when he wanted to. Then again, while in his room I realised how quickly he could change, and how he could put on a gentle façade simply to fool me, hiding the monster underneath.
"Do you know that man?" Altair whispered to me, catching me out of my daze.
"Mu'ayyad." I answered quietly, gesturing to the man now pacing angrily below, and added bitterly, "The man who started this whole mess."
A nod, and he turned back to listen.
The guards stomped off, allowing another man flanked with two guards through. And as I watched him, my back twitched painfully in memory, I curled my hands against the floor into fists and huffed, turning away for a second. The crack of the cane and whip drummed around in my head, along with his relentless questions, ones to which he barely even waited for an answer before he once again struck me with either stiff wood or hardened leather.
What… what a hateful, ugly man. Pasty skinned and old, almost unnatural, an inbred swine with no heart and far too much evil in him to be considered human, as far as I was concerned.
"You called for me, Mu'ayyad?" He said, in that same accent that was so difficult to place.
"Yes," drawled the younger man, "it seems there is a rat in the castle. A rat with weapons, no voice and scurries off like the pest he is with my bait."
"Well, I know how you feel about rats, sir…"
"Find him." Mu'ayyad spat venomously. "Find him, and when you do, kill him slowly, and I mean agonisingly slow." (and with that, I heard Altair shift beside me, a frown etched across his face.)
"And… the woman…?"
A sickening, salacious smirk formed at the corner of Mu'ayyad's lips, and he looked dreamily to the ceiling, his fingers together in a mock prayer, touching them to the end of his nose. He reached down, taking a gold coin from his pocket and absentmindedly twirled the metal between his fingers. "Have her tied up and brought to my quarters. I do not tolerate disobedience on such a level. She must be… ah, punished."
"As you wish, sir." The man bowed, his fair hair oddly motionless.
"Do not fail me, Gareth. Or I swear I will have you hung from the gallows!"
Gareth bowed, nonplussed by the threat and turned to his guards. "Suivez mon avance. Il semble que nous chassons pour le tueur silencieux, hommes." (1)
My stomach twisted and shiver crawled up my spine. Altair's hand quickly grasped my forearm, squeezing it for a second before urging me upwards. The brief contact clamed me slightly, and we left the view of the balcony, continuing down the long curved corridor of stone and rugs, vases and calm, yet rich paintings and tapestries.
We turned to the right, still silent as the grave, and I had to will my chest down to stop my heaving breaths. Still, I had no idea as to where we were, and this castle was seemingly endless with it's winding corridors. I glanced out a window ahead, and judging by the light it seemed to be early evening, we were hiding and running and walking for hours. My feet felt heavy, my back ached, my palms sweated but I willed myself to keep going. I couldn't stay here, not here of all places with that… man. I would rather die than have his vile touch upon me, punishment indeed!
Our slide against the wall however, was cut short, when the metallic crunch of armour rounded the corner up ahead, and a fierce shout of " Vous là! Arrêtez-vous immédiatement!" (2), which was sure to summon more of them. What he said, I had no idea, but I understood Altair's vicious swear beside me as he unsheathed his sword, and pushed me back against the wall.
Almost childishly, I covered my eyes just as he lunged forwards and there was an ear-splitting bang of metal. It continued, the shuffling of feet and occasional scrape of swords, quickly followed rustling cloth and chain mail. I cringed, a grunt along with a faltering step and slice of a sword, through robes and bone, then a crack and second slice, blood spurts and a strangled scream. A slump, the unlucky fool was dead.
Peering through my fingers, I looked to the floor, just to confirm to fears, and it was true, the guard had fallen, and by his twitching fingers and rolling eyes, he was still alive. My already weak stomach churned, and I bent nearly double, hiding my face from the sight. How could he still live, after that? How was that merciful?
The men ignored me, shouting things in a language I didn't understand, but their cries soon died as Altair picked them out one by one. Blood splattering, grunts of pain and screams, God I don't think I could ever forget that noise, the one of fluid gargling in the man's lungs as he tried desperately to draw his last breath, and all in vain.
Could these men really want to protect Mu'ayyad that bad, so much they would suffer the pains of this assassin? They would die in the hope Mu'ayyad would live? Surely, there is more to it than that. Is life to be thrown away so effortlessly?
"N-non, s'il vous… p-plaît être ch-charitable! J'ai… d-des enfan-!" (3) I dared to look up, one of the guards was on his knees, sword raised but neither in defence or offence. His stuttering, heaving ramblings were cut short when Altair's sword hacked away at his collar, then was wrenched free, dragging a seam of blood and the lifeless body with it.
How… how horrible… he was surrendering…-
I jumped badly when a pair of hands grabbed me from behind without a word of warning, one surprisingly smooth coving my mouth, cold gold rings against my face, the other across my shoulders, a dagger pressed against my throat.
Struggling, I whimpered against the hand, pushed back with my hips and shoulders, plucked uselessly at the forearm around me, but the grip was too strong, and I was doing nothing to stop it. My mouth couldn't even move enough for me to bite him, and he bent my head back, a mouth beside my ear, "Don't you dare try to get away, woman."
I swore violently in my mind, cursing Mu'ayyad to the deepest pits of hell for this, and I could only hope Altair…
Sure enough, the assassin managed to finish off the last of the guards before whipping around to face us, and then stood stock still, either in pure shock, or in cautiousness.
Mu'ayyad however, simply laughed.
"What will you do now, assassin?" He hissed, pressing the steel further against me as I continued to struggle. "So sure you could just sneak into my castle and steal away the bait? I had to lie to her, you know. Tell her we locked you up, so we could use you against her. But you have just made this so hard for me. That means you have to die!"
The man was utterly, undeniably insane. Faced against a predator like the assassin, how could he possibly have any chance of winning with just a dagger, and me as a method of weaponry.
Altair pressed forward, but stopped when he pulled my head back again, sliding the knife along my skin, but not with enough force to cut it. "Ah ah ah, not so fast. Don't want to loose what you have been so desperately trying to save, now would you?"
A snarl passed over his lips then, eyes hidden but the intensity rolling from them could have burned a hole in the wall. He was livid, and that was dangerous. It almost reminded me of Adham, teeth bared, shoulders up and forward, staring up at the target rather than down.
"She spoke of you, you know." He continued, walking backwards, and dragging me, still struggling with him, Altair following with calculated steps. "So worried for your safety, despite what she had put up-"
"You talk far too much." Altair spat, adjusting his sword arm, and cracked his neck.
"Come now, you won't be fighting me, not when I have much more skilled warriors at my disposal."
As if on cue, Gareth stepped from the adjacent corridor, smirk plastered across his face, as though anticipating the thought of killing. I lurched, but was held fast, Altair not even bothering to turn his head to face him, still glaring at Mu'ayyad. It was difficult to breathe, even more so when my terrified eyes caught sight of the huge mace Gareth was sporting, his armour tough, his hands steady on the heavy weapon.
"Remember, Gareth." Mu'ayyad acknowledged the older man. "Slowly."
A smirk quickly morphed into wide grin before the man attacked, swinging his mace above his head and bringing it down with a crash, where Altair was but moments before. Whimpering, I clamped my eyes shut and tried to turn my head away, but the grip on my shoulders tightened, the knife digging into me.
"Eyes open." He demanded, and I reluctantly followed.
And so they fought, though the mace was slow and rarely hit, it managed to graze the assassin's leg as he sidestepped out of its way, making him stumble, loose his balance, but he used the momentum to guard as another swing came down, and his knees buckled with the sheer force, the weight of the weapon. He grunted, and Gareth sneered as he drew the weapon back, ready to attack again, but was caught off guard when a thin sword, much smaller in comparison, cut his thigh through an opening in the armour, and he recoiled, hissing.
That was good, I thought. Though Gareth may have a mace, Altair has the advantage of sheer speed and accuracy.
It continued, Altair trying to avoid the mace while countering at the inertia before each swing, almost dance like in his movements, calculated. Gareth was loosing stamina, he heaved, his brow was covered in a sheen of sweat, and I silently prayed to God for an opening that would just finish him off completely. I still struggled hard, but it was useless.
A block from the man, and using the pause Altair surged forwards, blade ready. I gasped and whimpered through the hand when he was caught off guard by a quick swing and the mace crushed against his stomach. The armour bonded with leather cracked and buckled under the weight and he was flung backwards, onto his back, winded.
No, no that couldn't have happened. Mu'ayyad chuckled behind me, a dark, evil sound and I struggled harder, all fear of the knife against my throat utterly forgotten. I pulled at his forearm, trying to jerk it free, anything, I had to do something.
Altair shakily got to his feet, bemused, heaving, his broken armour looked battered against his stomach. Fighting to catch his breath, he stood poised for another onslaught as Gareth slowly made his way towards him, less breathless, more sure of himself now.
He can't die, not now, not when he has tried so hard to protect me. This place… I would rather go with having my throat slit open than watch Altair die and be expected to stay here, with these people. I was sick of being the simpering, foolish woman who got herself into trouble. None of this was my fault, and I shouldn't have to pay, or let others pay for mistakes set into motion long before I knew about it. It was time to start taking control, analyze the situation, anything to help rid this madness.
If I didn't, Altair might die. I couldn't let that happen.
I was still held fast, but I gritted my teeth and stomped down hard on the sandaled food beside mine, hurting my bare heel, and I could have sworn I heard something crack. A sharp inhale near my ear, then a high pitched groan of pain as he jerked his foot up, his arm loosening around my shoulders. I faltered as he stumbled for a second, but I swung my arm as fast and as high as I could reach it. My aim was true, and I caught the man sharply with my elbow straight in the nose. He recoiled, and my free hand closed around the dagger previously at my throat.
I prayed then, as I wrenched it from his grip, clamping my eyes shut and turning, cutting… well, I didn't really know where I cut him, but I felt the knife tearing through flesh and he tried to push himself backwards, away from me.
"Stop, damn you, stop!" He shrieked, and I opened my eyes just before he made his way towards me again, pointing the dagger at his neck.
Vaguely, behind me someone shouted something in a foreign language and there was a crack and a swish of a sword. But I ignored it. I couldn't turn, couldn't falter now.
Mu'ayyad had a most unattractive nosebleed and the knife caught him across his left cheek and down his chin. The wound was puckered, flowing freely with red down his tan skin and onto his white robes. He held his hands up defensively, but glared at me for all he was worth. I was breathing hard, partly for the rush, partly for fear and the realisation that I actually managed to do that to a man. And I was angry, with everything.
Behind me, there was a loud bang and shink of a blade, accompanied by a pained gasp, then a slump. Then silence.
Altair won. I wasn't a fool. I knew he did it.
The man's eyes darted to me, then past me as quiet footsteps cautiously walked forward. His face darkened, a snarl crawled over his bloodied lips. "Come on then," he spat, "kill me!"
I would have, but far too many lives have been thrown away today. I didn't think I was quite ready to kill someone, so I slowly backed away, brandishing the knife when he dared to follow and stopping him short in his tracks, his snarl cut deeper. He swore, hissing and spitting vicious words at us as we walked back. I stumbled over Gareth's lifeless body, but a hand caught me and steadied me. Altair beside me, raised his sword to the man, but folowed.
I threw the knife down at Mu'ayyad's heels, and took off with Altair, leaving the hateful man behind us, still glaring at our backs, nonplussed by his own blood drenching his clothes.
Damascus was vast, and it was nearing nighttime by the time we reached the docks. Confused, Altair pulled me onto a small fishing boat, hurriedly looking around before walking around the opposite side, his boots thumping off the wood. The boat rocked slightly beneath my feet, I grabbed a plank near me, to steady myself.
"Everything ready?" A thick Arabian accent echoed from around the side of the ship, not Altair's.
"Yes. Make to leave." Came the answer, and I was sure it was Altair by the quiet rumble. I walked forwards as three came out, Altair walked down onto the lower deck, followed by a man in similar robes, white with a red sash, but a blue overcoat slung across his shoulders. He was broader, his hair was short, his hood down and his skin was darker, but not by much. He inclined his head at me, his dark eyes scanning me for a second, before climbling down after Altair, gesturing for me to follow. The other man, possibly the ships's captain, an old and grizzly man walked onto the upper deck, ignoring me completely.
Following shakily, I climbed down the small hatch after them, a lantern swaying slightly from the ceiling in a room that smelled distinctly of old wood and sea water. The two sat on canvas sacks, and I, spotting a particularly comfortable looking pile of half empty sacks and material, automatically made my way towards it, and sat down with a sigh.
The ship jerked forwards as it took off and I had to steady myself along the pile of material, but quickly relaxed, and ran my hands along my face.
"Here, take this." The man with the thick accent said, offering me a bag with water. I took it gratefully, gulping it down despite the slightly bitter taste and handed it back.
"And you are?"
"Malik." He answered simply. "I prayed you would return safe."
"Don't I always?" Altair said with a huff and reclined back, picking at his broken armour.
"I wasn't talking to you." He snapped, and the two glared at each other, then looked away.
There was a rivalry there, I was sure of it.
"So," Malik said, taking some of the water himself, "I trust no major damage was done? Considering your stomach plate, I should pray for the best."
"It was a mace, Malik."
"Lucky for you then, that you actualy had the armour this time."
That was true, if Altair didn't have didn't have those plates of steel, he would have been a dead man. I cringed at the thought. No doubt it would leave a nasty bruise.
There was a pause, before Altair spoke again. "… Thank you, for the ship Malik."
Malik sighed and straightned, streaching his stiff shoulders. He walked over, putting a hand to Altair's shoulder. "Not a problem, brother. I need to look after Al Mualim's best pupil, after all."
Altair rolled his eyes as Malik climbed up through the hatch, but he was smiling, I could see it.
It was difficult to think that he could be close to anyone, really. Perhaps that was cruel of me, but the two seemed to get on, on a friendly level. Even rivals have thir share of friendship.
We sat there for minutes before Altair got up and walked towards me, sitting heavily beside me, weary.
"I need you to tell me." He said, quiet and curt. "What did they do to you?"
My eyes widened and I looked at the floor. "Nothing… nothing like that."
Should I tell him? What did it matter? We were safe now, away from harm, for the time being.
That wasn't needed.
"Please," he said, "I need to know why you didn't let me kill that man."
In fairness, I didn't kill him because I simply couldn't. Killing… it… it wasn't in me. I was no battle hardened warrior, or stealthy assassin. I was just a woman, at the end of the day. A God-fearing woman, who would never dream of killing someone, regardless. I didn't have pity for Mu'ayyad, I just… I couldn't.
Why I didn't want him to die, because… well… enough people have died this day. I couldn't stand anymore. It wasn't worth it. I didn't really know, when I thought about it.
He gently lay a hand to my back, and I flinched.
Altair, of course, noticed.
My heart was thumping when he rolled down the top of my dress at the back, revealing the barely healed marks left by the cane, the whip. He looked at them for some time, fingers like a ghostly touch over the scabs and welts.
Finally, he let go, and turned me to face him.
He was angry, that much I could tell, but it wasn't directed towards me. I still shivered all the same. "This dress," he hissed, his fingers digging into my shoulders, "where did you get it?"
Cotton filled my mouth, gagging me, and I fought to speak. "I-I don't… I don't know. I woke up and-"
He stood up and swore, kicking one of the sacks out of the way. Pacing for some time, he rubbed the bridge of his nose before calming himself down, and sat back down beside me.
"I suggest you get some sleep," he sighed, hands removing the broken armoured belt, "I'm sure you're tired."
Obediently, I swung my legs across the sacks, turning on my side so as not to hurt the tender skin, and curled up, cold, some warmth radiating from the man examining his belt beside me, but not enough.
God, I was so tired, but atleast I was safe. And I only had him to thank, really. And Malik, for the ship.
I awoke a few hours later, to a very odd sound. At first, I thought it was coming from me, my own heartbeat, but…
It was steady, rhythmic… My eyes still closed, I groaned softly, my arm around… something.
God, where was I?
Then I remembered. Malik, the ship. I was in the lower deck on a pile of sacks and material, a weird makeshirt bed, and yet it was oddly comfortable. And warm, why was it so warm? Did I have a fever? I prayed not. What a waste, if I were to die of illness.
I nuzzled into a steady, breathing chest and my eyes blearily opened, catching sight of serene white robes, with the occasional slaptter of blood. I groaned again. It was far too comfy to even think about the inappropriateness of the situaton. But I was awake now, and I looked up, catching sight of the man currenly acting as my pillow.
He was leaning against a pile of sacks, breathing low and steady, his hood had fallen down sometime during the night. His hair was tousled, messy.
Altair always manged to look so peaceful while he slept. How, I wasn't too sure. Perhaps it was because his eyes were closed, they lost their intensity.
The fates were cruel for this. How teasing, to leave this man beside me, his arm slung around my waist, protecting in an obscene embrace. But ah… when would it be like this again? This moment was mine, and I was calm, for too content to worry about much else.
So… so handsome. So perfect.
Sure, every human has their flaws, and he is no exception. But the outer beauty truly is something to behold. He was… he was perfect.
To me, at least.
I leaned up, even the smell of him was intoxicating, like an aphrodisiac, blood and human skin and earth. I refrained from touching the almost impossibly smooth skin, so… so…
What was I doing? I was leaning over him, so close, so blessedly close, and I was struck with an urge almost impossible to deny.
I wanted him.
I guess, I could admit it now. And it was hard not to, for all his beauty it is a wonder women around him didn't drop to their knees and beg…
Perhaps I was loosing my mind, but I think, after all I have been through, I deserved this moment. Just for me, right?
He stirred, and I paused, my hands inches from his face, heart thumping wildly, but he didn't wake. I dared to lean further, anything, the heat was so welcoming, so wonderful in this cold, damp space.
The water swayed below, and I could feel the ship moving along with the tide along the river. It almost told me to move closer, anything.
Perhaps… perhaps I really was loosing my mind…
His face was to the side, and it was perfectly harmless just to kiss his cheek, right?
That was cut short however, when I leaned closer, barely an inch away and his eyes fluttered open, snapping to me, blank.
I think I tried to swallow, but my mouth could only open, surprised. Such intense eyes…
"What are you doing…?" He whispered, his breath tickling my face, the grip along my waist tightening, pulling me towards him.
In my shock, I could only stay still. My heart seemed to have halted completely. There was only the sway of the ship, and his ever tightening arm around me, pulling me closer to him.
His eyes scanned me, pools of dripping honey, even in this light. Sinful, sweet… Oh God, what have I gotten myself into.
Those eyes… they scanned my face, then slid down to my mouth, and I could only stare. Staring, as he pulled me onto his lap in a single, fluid motion. My legs went either side of his, almost like they were made to do so.
The gauntlets were gone, and his left hand cupped my face, the heat… the beautiful heat made my cheeks flush. I could feel the absence of his ring finger, and I turned my head, almost to look, anything to avoid that gaze that made my skin dissolve. His thumb brushed my lower lip, his hand gently brought me back to face him, and I did, after only a moments hesitancy.
Aloof, easy, calm. He looked… I didn't quite know. It was intense, whatever it was, and we were so close…
So blessedly close…
Our noses brushed, his brow against mine, and out of pure instinct I tried to pull away. But he followed. Anything for that simple contact. His hand on my face was shaking slightly.
This… I couldn't let this happen. What started off so innocent, now it was… God I didn't even know.
Eyes, honey eyes, gold and brown, so beautiful, so full of want…
And that slow slide to my lips should have been a sin, but his mouth followed his eyes, and he pressed a kiss to my lips, so gentle, questioning.
Lips brushing with every quaking breath, my heart seemed to fall from my chest and melt into a warm pool in my stomach. He pressed further, like that time I was lying down, but now was different, it was almost too warm here, ontop of him.
It burned…
He inhaled sharply through his nose, pressing further, harder, and what could I do but curl my hands upwards and clutch him as both his hands trapped my waist, fingers against the soft linnen.
It started soft, wanton. Now it was dark, and growing in speed. I couldn't resist as a tongue begged it's way past my lips and teeth and slid gracefully into my mouth, my blood racing heavily when the softest of longing noises rumbled in his throat.
Oh yes… I remember this. Though this was much more shameful, as now there were two involved, and not just one.
I moved up, pushing myself against him, my legs tightening around his, my hands running through his hair, and God it didn't matter where we were and who was near, I needed this. He needed this.
It was hard, and became faster with every languid stroke of his tongue against mine. He was breathing in harsh drags through his nose, his hands around my waist massaged the skin before pulling my hips into meet his, and we both gasped and pulled away.
His lips found my neck, and I rolled my head back, my eyes fluttering shut as the heat grew to such a burning temperature, his hands gently pushing my hips down to his, in slight rotations. I gasped again, when his teeth nipped at the convulsing muscles as my throat worked to strangle back the noise.
He groaned again, and it bacme faster, his mouth kissed harder, his hands pushing my hips down onto his grew in tempo. One travelled down, hitching up the end of my dress, his calloused palms against the bottom of my thigh. I groaned then too, in spite of myself. He pulled my waist tighter, urgent, rhythmic, anything to relive the building, crushing tension…
"Altair!" A muffle, from the above deck. It was Malik, and I could hear his pacing footsteps.
At first Altair ignored it, content to keep going, lips still against my neck, but he was called again.
I ran my hands along his scalp, breathing heavy, and touched my lips to his forehead. "Go." I said, even though every part of me was screaming for him to stay. "Please, he will find us if you don't."
He tried his hardest to slow his movements, making a huge effort, his own breath ragged and coarse.
He spun, turning me over onto my back, and I nearly yelped in surprise before he pressed a hard kiss to my lips, and I immediately bucked at the sensation. He bucked back, almost vainly.
Parting from me, leaving me to the warmed material, he ran a hand through my dark waves of hair, his forehead against mine. His eyes, dazed, but still wanton, tore from mine as he got up, and climbed up on the top deck just as another disgruntled call from Malik echoed from above.
I was still breathing heavy, my heart racing, sweating, and now feeling thoroughly abandoned and frustrated and ashamed, but it was worth it…
That one moment was worth the trouble.
Author's Notes: (1) Follow my lead. We shall find the silent killer, men.
(2) You there! Stop immediatly!
(3) N-no, please have mercy! I have childre-!
Thanks very much for reading, awh, I love you guys!!!