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Wounded and Aroused pt.1	By : SilentHillKitty Category: +A through F > Assassin's Creed Views: 3990 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Wounded and Aroused pt.1
- 2-Wounded and Aroused pt.2
- 1
- 2
The dull sounds of the bells fading into the late summer evening sky were just barely able to drown out the deep, ragged pants of the shaded figure as he hid in the shadows the buildings created, praying the guards would just run right past, not paying any mind to the small alcove he chose as his hiding spot. Things had gone bad before in his years as an Assassin, but this was, by far, the worse he had been through in a long while. He clutched at the bleeding wound on his left thigh, knowing he would have to have it looked after soon if he were to safely recover with all his limbs in tact. His covered eyes glanced up at the sky above him, trying to mull through his thoughts to figure out how this had gone so array. No clear thoughts entered his mind as he took the time to relax and gather what little strength he could muster up. Falling against the cold, clay wall of the building to his left with a loud, pain-filled gasp, the Assassin took deep breaths as he waited for the guards to calm before he dared to venture out into the throng of the crowd. His back burned and ached from all the damage he took. His white robes clung to his body, due to blood or sweat, he could not differentiate, but it was limiting his movements rather greatly.

Despite everything, all he knew was he had to return to the Jerusalem Bureau quickly and safely, and without the attention of the guards all around him. He felt he could handle them easily, even if his torn and battered body said other wise. Putting his own life in danger was one thing he was quite content with, but he felt for the safety of his deeply cherished friend. His throat tightened up at the thought of him.

Malik.

What would he think of him were he to return to the Bureau in such a poor condition? He was sure to get an ear full from him as he helped tend to his wounds. Saying how reckless he was, which would then, no doubt, result in him calling him a novice a few dozen times. Shaking his weary head, the Assassin pushed himself off the rough wall once his breathing slowed to what he considered to be normal enough, taking in a deep breath as he felt the guards had traveled far enough to cause no further harm to him, nor follow him to his destination. He secretly began praying that the faint trail of blood he was leaving in his wake would not be noticeable enough to lure the guards his way. Taking one last look around the rooftops, he lowered his head slightly as he moved out from the shadows caused by the roofing of the building next to him with a slight limp to his step. Jaw clenched tightly as the pain ran up his leg, the deep sword gash on his thigh bleeding profusely, despite him having tightly tied a torn piece of his robe to it, which was no longer it's snow white color, but now stained red beyond repair. Spotting a ladder, he reached out for it, his arms aching from all the bruises and cuts he was sure littered his flesh underneath the garments. With a sharp intake of air, he swung his body onto the wooden frame, grasping the splintered wood with his right hand first, his fingers wrapping tightly around the worn wood. Grabbing hold of the ladder with both hands now, his arms protested from the weight they had to hold up as he began his slow descent to the rooftop below. He was still a ways away from the Bureau, but he felt it would be an easier trek if he were at least on the same level as the entrance.

The fading sounds of the bells were hardly heard by him now as all he could hear were the faint, yet frustrated, shouting of the guards who had lost site of him, and the loud thudding of his heart beat filling his ears. He glanced down to the street below, spotting a group of Scholars as they were slowly walking by, their heads bowed. For an instant, he contemplated on joining them, knowing they would welcome him freely into their small party. However, he took a glance down at his own person. It would seem odd for a Scholar's robes to be tainted by so much blood. With a low growl, he pushed away from the edge, walking over to a make shift bridge made from a few flanks of wood tied together rather poorly. Not even bothering to look down, he soundlessly skipped across the bridge with ease, ignoring the sudden gasps from behind as he figured some of his blood had dripped down to the street below.

He sighed with deep relief as the ever present chimes echoed on the warm breeze as he neared a building that held a mild difference from the others, ensuring he had safely arrived at the Bureau. He never thought hearing the particular chimes that gave hint to the Bureau's location to only those who were Assassin's or friends of, would sound so beautiful to him. Turning a corner rather clumsily, he stopped dead as he was faced with the back of a heavily armed guard looking at the entrance to the Assassin's Bureau with mild interest. He narrowed his eyes, a sudden fear for his friend's safety boiling up. Knowing he could not enter whilst the man was there, he crept up behind him, not making the slightest of noise, even in his injured state. Even the quick drawing of his hidden blade sliced through the air without a sound. The only noise that was made, was the silenced gasp of the man as the Assassin reached out, his right hand to the guard's mouth, whilst the blade made home from behind, the slick blade easily slipping past rips to puncture vital organs. The Assassin held the man close to him for a flicker of a second, before releasing him, the guard reaching behind where the blade had struck, before falling back, the poison dipped blade having claimed yet another guard. With a sigh, he grabbed the man's ankles and dragged him to the edge of the roof, the clean cut not spilling a drop of blood, waiting. A small smirk flashed on his lips as he saw a cart filled with straw being moved. With a single kick, the body fell from the roof and landed in the straw, unnoticed by all as it was carried away from the Bureau. Walking over to the entrance of the Bureau with quick steps, the Assassin glanced down to see if any had entered. He was relieved to find it clear. With yet another deep sigh of relief, he walked up to the edge, about ready to jump in when suddenly, his whole world began spinning. A hand went to his head as he tried to will everything to cease. Looking down into the safe confines of the Bureau below, the simple single story jump, suddenly appeared as if it were a five story leap to ones death. Taking a step back away from the edge, his mouth opened to call to the Rafik down within, but before his lips could form the first letter of his name, the world around him went dark.

Malik was busy on correcting one of the many maps that needed looking over again. Setting the quill down with a soft sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squinting shut. "The bells have been ringing for quite some time now... where is he?" He then sighed deeply as he lowered his hand, his gaze trailing down to the map before him, He should have returned by now... Has something happened? As if to answer his question, a loud thump came from the room over where the Assassin's entered and rested before and after missions. Jumping greatly from the sudden noise, his hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword he kept hidden behind the desk. Eyes narrowed as he slowly walked over towards the doorway, glancing around the corner. He was expecting it to be a novice or two groaning while getting to their feet since they were the only ones to make such a racket upon entering, but was surprised to see no one in the room, nor a sound of any sorts save for the water coming from the one working fountain, the bells in the distance, and the chimes that he grew to enjoy while at the Bureau. Drawing his sword still, however, he only took two steps into the room before his eyes went to the heap on the hard floor. It only took an instant to see it was a fellow brother, but he was not expecting it to be who it was. Another step closer, and the blood stained robes hit full recognition. "Altaïr!?" Dropping his sword with an echoing clatter, Malik ran over to the others side. He was laying on his stomach, not responding to his name being cried out in shock. Malik felt a growing fear for his friend upon seeing his once white robes, now drenched in blood. With slight difficulty, Malik managed to turn the fallen Assassin over onto his side, his eyes growing wide as he saw the condition his friend was in. Blood was leaking from the corner of his mouth, while a thin line of blood trickled down his left temple from under the hood. Gently, he rolled him over onto his back. Using great care, he moved his hand up to gently push back the others white hood from his head, revealing the nasty wound where the blood was trailing from, before sliding his hand down to the side of his blood-splattered neck, thumb tracing the blood on the others jawline. Running his thumb through the red substance, Malik made a slight face upon finding a small cut where the blood was oozing from. Shaking his head slowly, he gently laid the others head down and retreated back into the far room, returning with a few pieces of cloth. He walked over to the working fountain in the resting area, holding two pieces of the material he brought with him under the seemingly endless stream of water until they were completely soaked, before moving back towards Altaïr and kneeling by his side once more. "Seems you have gotten yourself into a bit of trouble, my friend..." He spoke in a soft tone, not even sure the other heard his quiet words in his loss of consciousness. He began to gently wipe the blood from the others face with one of the dampened cloths, causing the injured Assassin to stir slightly. Malik felt his breath get caught in his throat as Altaïr's eyes twitched, before slowly fluttering open with a weary groan.

It only took the Assassin a few blurry seconds to realize someone was touching him, even if it was with great care. Alarmed, Altaïr struggled against the gentle touches of Malik, his right hand instinctively going for a dagger on his belt. Malik caught onto the motion and reached out, firmly grasping Altaïr's hand with his own, unfortunately causing the other to hiss out in pain, "Relax, brother. You are safe now..."

It seemed as though Altaïr was having difficulty trying to register the other. However, even though Malik's face was a dark blur to him, his voice, he could never mistaken. "Mal..." he breathed out heavily, his body soon growing slightly slack against the others.

Malik's eyes, though still holding deep anger towards the one before him, also held a spark of concern for his dear friend, "Altaïr... what happened to you?" The Assassin laying before him merely shook his head, eyes squeezing shut from the pain he was obviously in. Malik watched the other for a few seconds before his gaze trailed skyward, watching the opening for any signs if the wounded Assassin was followed. He would have to close it off. When Altaïr began moving, was when Malik broke his gaze and glanced down. Altaïr had moved his right hand to his belt, pushing his fingers past the rough material between the belt and robe, seconds later producing a messy, white feather, covered in blood. Malik knew it was not Altaïr's blood that adorned the feather, but the blood of his target. He held it up to the Rafik, his eyes growing heavy with fatigue. It seemed as if Altaïr was about to try to speak, but Malik shook his head. With a look of concentration, Malik hushed Altaïr, taking the feather from him and laying it next to him as he looked up through the opening in the ceiling once again, "We will discuss that later. Right now, you need help." The bells still rung through out the city as the sun began falling, casting dark shadows over all the Bureau. The shouts of the guards could also still be heard off in the near distance, which began to worry the Bureau leader. Looking back down at Altaïr, Malik leaned close, speaking in a hushed tone, "They are close. I must move you further inside, Altaïr." The concern Malik was feeling was too over powering for him to have noticed the way Altaïr reacted to his hot breath ghosting over his ear. With a little bit of difficulty, Malik managed to get Altaïr up to his feet, walking him ever so slowly through the doorway which lead into where Malik usually stood behind the long, wooden desk, a large pool of blood remaining where the Assassin was lying on the floor. He took note of the heavy limp to the Assassin's steps, mentally reminding himself to look over his legs as well as the rest of his body for injuries. Glancing around, he walked his injured friend over towards a long, wooden table that sat against the wall, gently laying him down on top of it. Altaïr hissed from the contact the table made with his still burning back, causing him to arch his body more into Malik's own, his left hand grasping the back of the others robes tightly.

He couldn't quite understand why, but Malik felt his face heat up greatly as Altaïr pulled himself a little closer to his chest, the deep, ragged panting coming from the Assassin furthering the pink hue across his features. Clearing his throat a little too loudly, Malik managed to pull himself away from Altaïr, not being able to bring himself to make eye contact with the other man. "I must tend to your wounds..." Just by the simplest glance of his robes, he was going to need a great amount of salve and bandages. "But first, I must ensure we are not interrupted." Pulling himself completely away from the tight grasp of the Assassin, he hastily walked around the corner, disappearing into the room they came from. Altaïr was far beyond being coherent enough to have heard the noises of Malik sealing off the entrance to the Bureau, locking it tight so no guards could enter. He then returned, giving Altaïr a quick glance before moving back behind the desk, returning moments later with a wooden box in hand. He sat down on one of the stools next to Altaïr, the box on the other, digging around in it until his hand first produced a bottle of salve, then a few rolls of white bandages which he sat next to the box for later. Malik's face twisted of mild frustration as he began planning out just how he was to do this. He was still getting used to his... mild disability. Altaïr turned his head to the side, seeing the troubled expression on his friend's face. He then turned away, his stomach suddenly feeling horribly ill as an enormous wave of guilt flooded through out his entire being.

Malik noticed the ill look on his friend's face as he sat up, placing his hand on the others shoulder gently. "Just relax, my friend." He whispered. Moving away slightly, his first target was the hastily bandaged thigh. With almost too much ease, Malik was able to pull the bloodied cloth from around the wound, tossing it to the ground with a wet splat. It had absorbed so much blood, that it was dripping it when he pulled it away and dropped it. He leaned close to the wound, Altaïr's deep, labored panting causing him to take extra care around the injury. Leaning back, he smiled, "It is not as bad as it feels. You won't lose it." Even though it was meant to be a joke, Altaïr looked away, the guilt obvious in his eyes. Malik hesitated for a second with the next few words he must say, for what reason, he couldn't quit understand. That, or he was choosing to not believe the reasoning he was beginning to think. Altaïr did not look to him, even after feeling his hand upon his shoulder once again, "Your wounds seem worse on your back. I must remove your robes to treat them..." His voice carried much uncertainty in it, and he knew Altaïr picked up on it, for he looked over to him, his eyes holding an emotion he had never seen before, nor place a name of what it was at the moment. With a hasty nod, Altaïr pushed himself up on his elbows, hissing between his teeth as his body began screaming at him for moving.

Malik made quick with his actions at first, undoing the Assassin's broad, dagger lined belt with ease and quickness. However, once his eyes laid to rest on the blood red strip of material that was tied around the others waist, keeping the robe secured, he felt his face heat up a few degrees more than before, his fingers beginning to tremble slightly just above the piece of fabric. Shaking his head once to clear it of any thoughts other than helping his friend, he grasped the fabric, giving it a good tug. It fell away from the Assassin's waist as if it were alive, falling to the table before sliding off to the floor. The blood stained robe flowed a little more loosely away from the battered body beneath it, a small sigh of relief coming from Altaïr at his body no longer being confined as much. Malik swallowed hard as the sigh that escaped Altaïr brushed his face, his hot breath not helping his features cool down the slightest. With a deep intake of breath, Malik moved his trembling hand up to the front of Altaïr's robes. Rather uncomfortably at first, Malik managed to get the robes undone, gently pushing them back and over Altaïr's shoulders. It was almost as if the robes were teasing the Bureau leader, for it slid down the Assassin's well toned and handsomely muscular arms at a painfully slow rate, before finally pooling around his elbows. His face felt like it was on fire, not caused only by the confusing feelings he was suddenly having towards his friend, but also at the embarrassment of the fact that Altaïr was picking up on what was troubling him so, for the bastard was beginning to smirk at him. Malik cleared his throat, not realizing he was staring at what the robes had exposed of Altaïr's chest, which didn't seem like it suffered too much damage, just some deep bruising. "Lean up a little... so I can remove your robes fully to get to the wounds on your back." All he got from the Assassin was a nod before he reached out and grasped the Rafik's back, pulling himself closer.

"I... need help..." He whispered, hissing in the others ear from the pain, but also from something else. Malik swallowed hard, nodding a little slowly as he reached behind Altaïr and began pulling at his robes. It was a slow struggle, for the material began sticking to the bloodied wounds that littered the younger Assassin's back. Malik let out a small victorious sound as he managed to get a small section freed from a rather large and deep gash that ran across Altaïr's shoulder blades. A sharp intake of air was heard as Altaïr's grip on Malik's right shoulder tightened, his body arching into Malik's chest as the pain from the material being pried free from the wound ran through out his body. During the actions, Malik froze, waiting for Altaïr to relax before he tried to remove the clothing any further. After a few long seconds, Altaïr breathed an OK for him to continue, taking deep breaths to remain calm and still.

After fighting with the clothing for about ten more minutes, which was past between the two in silence save for the sudden sharp gasps here and there from Altaïr, the bloodied robes were just about free when the young Assassin felt the silence was about to drive him mad, "Malik... there is something I must say." He gasped after saying the others name, causing him to jump due to him concentrating so intently on the task at hand.

After a softly breathed apology from the younger male, Malik paused, looking down at Altaïr. In order to get to the robes, he had to carefully straddle the other so he could work on the clothing at an easier angle, and to also give Altaïr something to grab onto to help ease the pain, which he still help a firm grip on the back of Malik's robes. "What is it, brother?"

Altaïr was quiet for a moment, trying to think of how he wished to word what he wanted to say, "I've been a fool." Came the soft response after another silent moment was passed between the two.

Malik blinked, eying Altaïr closely for a few long and intense seconds before going back to the current task he had before him. "Normally I would make no argument, but what is this? What are you talking about?"

Altaïr, once again, went silent for a few moments, his jaw clenching and unclenching as the robes were pulled free from yet another deep gash, this time on his lower back. Finally, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as the grip he had on Malik tightened without him realizing it, "All this time, I never told you I was sorry... too damn proud. You lost your arm because of me, lost Kadar."

Malik was at a loss for words. His actions halted and he leaned back, gazing into the tightly closed eyes of his friend. He wasn't sure what to say at first, not expecting this at all, certainly not now of all times. After a few seconds, he blinked, pulled from his shock when he felt Altaïr tighten the grip he had on his shoulder. He then narrowed he eyes, returning to work on removing the material. "I do not accept your apology." He said, tone holding an uncertain emotion.

Altaïr felt his chest tighten greatly, as if a great fist closed around the beating organ within and was squeezing it tightly, eyes opening wide for a second before they half lidded, his body being attacked by all new emotions at once. He suddenly felt as if he could no longer breathe, his heart beating so heavy as if it were being weighed greatly with chains. He could think of nothing to say for what seemed like an eternity, his gaze moving to his lap, which then moved to the still bleeding wound on his thigh. He could not understand why he was so devastated by the response he was sure he would get. Just... hearing it spoken from Malik... he felt as if his heart was just stabbed by the very hidden blade he has used on countless people before him. Finally, he found the strength to speak, even if it were only two words, "I understand." He whispered, his tone holding the obvious devastation his heart was feeling.

Malik blinked, pausing to look down at his friend beneath him once more. He was rather surprised to have heard the great deal of pain in Altaïr's voice, and it wasn't caused by the wounds on his body. He watched the other closely, a small smile coming to his lips as he went back to work on what was left of the robes, "No... you don't. I do not accept your apology because you are not the same man that went with me into Solomon's Temple. So you have nothing to apologize for."

Altaïr gasped to himself, looking up at Malik with shock flashing in his eyes. He stared at his friend for a few seconds, not being able to believe he heard him right. "Malik..." was all he was able to say, not being able to think of anything else. The weight around his heart was suddenly lifted, making it so much easier for him to breathe as well.

Malik still smiled as he managed to peel a little more of the robes away from Altaïr's body, "Perhaps if had I not been so envious of you, I would not have gotten so careless myself. I am just as much to blame." He spoke in a soft tone, making brief eye contact with the still shocked Altaïr, his lips still curled in the small smile.

Altaïr shook his head, the grip he had on Malik's robes tightening greatly, "Don't say such things." His voice held a tone that neither he nor Malik were familiar with, which intrigued them both greatly.

"We are one, Altaïr. As we share the glory of victory, so too should we share the pain of defeat. In this way we grow closer, we grow stronger." Malik spoke softly as he managed to pull the remainder of the robes from the wounds, pulling it away from Altaïr's body and discarding the ruined garments to the floor with a satisfied sigh.

Altaïr let a small hiss escape his lips as the material was freed from his wounds at last, his back already feeling so much better now that the wounds could breathe. He glanced up at Malik, taking note of how much more color came to his face as he glanced away from Altaïr's now completely exposed chest. "Thank you, Malik."

Malik said nothing more, all he did was nod once, not turning to face Altaïr. After a second, he bent over to reach for the salve, "I must clean and dress your wounds now that they are uncovered. You were reckless, Altaïr."

Altaïr groaned, knowing he was to be scolded about being reckless. However, he smiled, being so relieved of Malik's forgiving him. As he watched Malik bending for the jar of salve, something clicked inside Altaïr, something he couldn't explain as he acted upon it. Reaching out, he gently placed his right hand on Malik's left arm where the sleeve was pinned up, just above where the rest of the limb was lost. The touch caused the other to halt, tensed up, not turning his head as his eyes glanced over to the Assassin. No words were said between the two as Malik turned his head to Altaïr, the other glancing from the one's arm and into his eyes. It was almost as if everything they were questioning about each other, the feelings they were experiencing, the emotions they were beginning to go mad from, all of it made perfect sense the moment their eyes locked.

Altaïr tightened the grip he had on Malik's robes, pulling himself up with a deep intake of air as he pressed his lips to the others roughly, both surprised, and not as Malik pushed back with equal force. Without even realizing what his body was doing, Malik was pushing against Altaïr's, the other having to prop himself up on his right elbow as his left hand began pulling the robes off the Bureau leader's shoulder. Malik's hand reached over Altaïr's arm, his palm coming into contact with the deep wounds on the Assassin's back. Altaïr's body tensed up, a hiss escaping their lips as he slid his tongue between his lips, trailing the muscle along the lips of his friend. Malik did not hesitate to allow the Assassin entry, parting his lips enough for Altaïr's tongue to slip past, the two muscle's wrestling each other in a heated dance of passion. The metallic taste that invaded Malik's taste buds did nothing to alter the effect of feeling Altaïr's tongue wrapping around his own. A moan vibrated in the back of Malik's throat, earning a smirk from Altaïr as he kissed him harder, pulling him closer to his injured body. Once Malik's brain managed to catch up to his actions, and registered the sudden warm wetness that covered his palm, he pulled away from Altaïr, lifting his hand up to see it covered in the younger Assassin's blood. A scowl came to Malik's face as he tried to push himself away from the other. How he longed not to, how he just wished to continue. But the others wounds were bad, and had already lost consciousness once before. It was only a matter of time before it occurred again. A shear coating of sweat was already covering the injured Assassin's body, giving it a slight shine amongst the shimmering of the blood. Altaïr held fast to Malik when he made the motion to bend over. The Bureau leader glanced into the others eyes, seeing them wild and full of lust. Something he had never seen before, and absolutely loved. "Your wounds-" Malik began, but was silenced by a quick, yet deep kiss from the other.

"They are fine." Altaïr gasped between the bruising kiss, beginning to rather enjoy the pain he was in. It helped add more to the emotions he was feeling. But if anything, it was helping him stay in focus, keeping his mind from thinking this was all just a dream. He then cracked a small smile, forcing a chuckle out. "I rather enjoy how it feels when your touches cause my body to burn."

Malik let out a huff, smirking himself as his own lustful longings were beginning to cloud his better judgment. "Altaïr... I never thought you the type to enjoy pain." He teased, still reaching for the salve. He could see the pain reflecting in the others eyes, no matter how strong and bold he was trying to be.

Altaïr moved his hand from his shoulder, and grasped the hand reaching for the salve. He then brought Malik's hand to his chest, holding it in place for a few seconds. Swallowing hard, Malik broke free from the loose grasp Altaïr had on his hand, trailing it, palm down, against his well trained chest, his fingertips ghosting over the bruised flesh. Altaïr sucked in a deep breath as his sore muscles contracted to the slightest touches Malik placed on him, his eyes not once breaking the trance-like stare Malik was giving him, until a sudden gasp escaped past the Assassin's slightly parted lips as Malik's hand ghosted its way down towards the front of his pants, causing his body to grow tense. Once he knew he had the Assassin's attention, his eyes asked the question his mouth failed to speak for him, Altaïr's eyes answering the unspoken question. After making sure Altaïr was OK with being touched in such a private area, Malik put a little more pressure against his growing erection, earning a hiss of pleasure from the one beneath him. Altaïr clenched his sore jaw, trying to stifle any further noises he may make, regardless if they were from pleasure or pain, just out of habit he'd developed over the years of being an Assassin.

Malik knew his body wasn't well enough for anything too intense, but he couldn't just leave Altaïr in the current state of arousal he was in. And shifting his weight to one side, he found that he, too, was in the same state as the younger male beneath him. For now, rubbing their erections out was the best plan at the moment, giving the circumstances. At least until Altaïr recovered enough. Even though this was all new to the both of them, it was almost as if their hearts were guiding their actions. Malik added more pressure against Altaïr's erection, being rewarded for the action with a deep inhale, followed by a soft moan that was breathlessly whispered past Altaïr's lips. After a seconds hesitation, Malik began moving his hand back and forth, keeping the pressure against the still growing bulge under his hand. As the Bureau leader's pace quickened, Altaïr's head tilted back, exposing his neck. Malik glanced up, his mouth moving automatically towards the exposed flesh. Altaïr jumped, gasping as the wet warmth of Malik's mouth clasped around a rather sensitive spot of his neck, the pounding of his heart being felt by Malik as his tongue licked at the spot where his teeth bit into the flesh, sucking and nibbling as he worked the trapped flesh into a bruise Altaïr wasn't planning on complaining about. While Malik worked on his neck, his hand quickened it's pace, sending shock waves of pleasure through out Altaïr's battered and beaten body. The intensity of emotions rushing through his veins, caused his body to begin jerking, which in turned caused the wounds to stretch and ache. Malik was about to halt his ministrations when he heard a pained whimper in the back of Altaïr's throat, but was completely knocked off track when the Assassin moved his left hand from his shoulder, to his own throbbing erection, mimicking the motions he was doing to him. A gasp came from Malik as he nearly doubled over in pleasure as Altaïr added more pressure, fingers squeezing the bulge after every few strong strokes. He was taken a back with how much strength the other had in his injured state. The warming sensation was beginning to boil, causing Malik's vision to slightly blur as he leaned forward, his head resting against Altaïr's right shoulder. At that moment, he was rather grateful for the strength Altaïr still possessed, for it was basically he who was holding them both up now. Malik no longer held the strength to keep himself upright as he felt his climax approaching. He wanted to keep going, but with the amount of pressure and the pace of Altaïr's motions, it was driving him closer to the edge faster than he'd like.

He could also feel Altaïr's body beginning to tremble and tense up under his own, signs that he, too, was nearly at his end. With renewed strength, Malik quickened his pace, adding twice the amount of pressure than before, which caused Altaïr to cry out in pure pleasure. Suddenly, the Assassin's strength failed him at that moment, his elbow giving way to their weight. With an erotic cry mixed of pain and pleasure, Altaïr's elbow slipped, causing him to fall onto his bloodied back with Malik collapsing on top of him. Though the pain was nearly unbearable, both were too far lost in the intensity of feelings they were experiencing, the two not once slowing in the pleasure they were giving the other. Altaïr's right hand reached up and behind Malik, grabbing a fist full of the older male's cloak, pulling him closer to his body as he leaned up, kissing his passionately. Soon, Altaïr's battered body could no longer take the immense pleasure it was receiving amongst the pain, and with a few more strong strokes delivered by Malik, the Assassin's body locked, finding the intense release as he was pushed over the edge. Caught in the throes of his orgasm, Altaïr buried his face in Malik's neck, clinging to him tightly while breathing deeply, no longer able to remain silent as he road out his climax.

Malik's face flushed with the sounds coming from Altaïr. The moaning and whimpering, it was like nothing he had ever heard from the man before. He had heard him breathing deeply before during training, but never anything like this. Between the deep panting from the other, and the strong strokes he was still receiving from the spent Assassin, Malik could no longer stay strong. His body tensed up, his muscles contracting to a nearly painful point as he reached the peak of pleasure. All it took for the Rafik to find his release, was the breathless whisper of his name from the man he found he loved as more than a friend and brother. The instant he spent himself, it was as if his brain clicked and realized where he was about to collapse all of his weight upon. Somehow regaining renewed strength, Malik caught himself before his entire body fell on top of the injured one below him. The only sounds to fill the Bureau at the moment, were the Bureau chimes that first gave Altaïr hope that he'd survive his wounds, the flowing water, and the deep, ragged breathing from both men as they recovered, catching their breaths. The bells had long ago ceased.

Malik was the first to recover after a few long moments. He pushed himself up, gazing down at the sweaty and bloody body under him. Altaïr was still breathing deeply, his eyes closed tight from the pain his body was reminding him he was still in. No longer being drunk by the pleasure, Altaïr's body was now in twice the amount of pain as before. Feeling guilty for causing more harm to him, Malik pushed himself off and away from Altaïr, bending over and picking up the forgotten salve so he could continue with treating the others wounds, which were now dirty from the table. He then stood to his feet, nearly losing balance from how wobbly his legs felt, earning a chuckle from the Assassin who was still lying on his back, too weak to sit up.

With a huff, Malik sat on the bench next to the other, feeling slightly uncomfortable due to the rather sticky mess he was left in. "It seems your wounds are not the only things needing cleaning and dressing..." Malik breathed, opening the jar of salve and dipping a clean cloth into the clear, orderless gel. Altaïr could only chuckle before hissing from the stinging sensation that the healing salve brought onto his wounds as it cleansed the deep cuts and gashes of the drying blood, dirt and wood chips from the table.

By the time Malik had Altaïr's wounds cleaned and dressed, as well as having other things cleaned and dressed, it was well into the night. Altaïr walked over with a slight limp to where Malik stood behind his desk, looking over the same map from when he first arrived. Sensing the others presence, he looked up from the piece of parchment, a smile on his face, "How are your wounds, brother?" Altaïr couldn't help but feel his face heat up, forcing himself to nod as his only response, earning a chuckle from the Rafik as he placed the quill back in the ink well. "That is good." Altaïr was racking through his brain, trying to think of something he could say. Of all the times he was quick with his tongue, words failed him at that very moment in time. Malik seemed to have picked up on the others inner turmoil with himself, so he chuckled and walked around his desk. Placing his fingers to Altaïr's chin, he forced the other to look him in the eyes, "Rest if you need to, Altaïr, that you might be prepared for what lies ahead." Was all he said, before leaning up and placing a tender kiss on the Assassin's lips.

End Part I.
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Wounded and Aroused pt.1