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3:88	By : Imoshen Category: +A through F > Assassin's Creed Views: 12171 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or any of its characters. I do not make any money by publishing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 28-Part 28
- 29-Part 29
- 30-Part 30
- 31-Part 31
- 32-Part 32
- 33-Part 33
- 34-Part 34
- 35-Part 35
- 36-Prt 36
- 37-Part 37
- 38-Part 38
- 39-Part 39
- 40-Part 40
- 41-Part 41
- 42-Part 42
- 43-Part 43
- 44-Part 44
- 45-Part 45
- 4
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer:
I
do not own Assassin's Creed or any of its characters.

A/N:
I'm feeling rather shitty today – how would you feel when your
mother would tell you she married her boyfriend last Friday and then,
half an hour later your father's calling, telling that he married his
girlfriend last Friday as well? But the both of them wanted to keep
it 'really small', so none of their kids was invited? Anway... on
with the fucking chapter... haven't checked for grammar and spelling,
just don't care right now.

The rope on his throat was gone. Malik
had put it instead around his thighs connected with his knees and his
wrists tied against them. Altair's arms lay now next to his body but
his legs were cocked and his body pressing into something soft which
felt like leather. It could be the bench he was lying on with his
back. With that kind of bondage he wasn't able anymore to stretch or
move his limbs. It was a comfortable kind of bondage one which didn't
pull on his legs and arms or hurt his muscles but it was still very
effective in keeping him from making any movement.

So far nothing had happened and he
wondered if Malik was still even there with him – for all he
knew he could have been gone or worse, invited people into their room
to watch his punishment.

He couldn't hear, couldn't see and
wasn't able to speak. Altair was alone with his thoughts, alone with
his anxiety. His mind was racing and he wondered what Malik would do
to him now. The sick feeling of fear covered him like thick, black
oil, swallowing everything else and made him feel utterly helpless.
He was terrified – he could live with the mask, he could live
with the gag but not... Now he couldn't focus on the man's voice
anymore, he couldn't hear his movements. The connection to the outer
world he had hold so dear was gone. He wasn't even able to scream to
make all of this stop and it made him wonder why Malik did this to
him, why he took from him the ability to use his voice to say 'stop'
when he needed it the most? His mind was a prison and Malik knew
that.

Altair couldn't tell how long he was
already lying there – it could be only mere minutes and also
hours. But his muscles didn't ache enough yet so he assumed it was
maybe half an hour. Probably less. Time was ticking so much slower
right now.

He
was angry at himself but more angry at Malik – the bastard must
have known that this was about to happen. Altair was certain that it
was all part of that sick game of his. But he had wanted to play and
now he got burnt. The fact that it actually was
Altair's fault didn't help him at all. Malik had told him not to cum
and yet he did. It wasn't as if he had really planned to disobey his
orders. The climax had caught him by surprise and it had felt that
much different from anything he had experienced before. His anger was
burning, threatening flames consuming his mind and it helped him to
focus, a small spark of sanity still there.

Altair
took a deep breath, trying to calm his wildly beating heart. It
wouldn't do him any good to fall into panic. Malik was
there.
There was no way he would leave him like that – or would he?

Saliva was running from the corners of
his mouth and over his chin, soaking into the soft fabric of the mask
and parts of it were also trickling down his throat. The air was hot
and sticky, sweat already standing on his brow and he tried to move
his head, tried to loosen the mask a bit to get some fresh air. But
it didn't matter how often Altair shifted, it was no use. All he
could do now was to wait... and he hated every single second of it.

The
worst of all was the fact that he didn't really know
Malik.
All he could rely on was his hope – hoping that the other man
wasn't abandoning him, hoping that he was still there with Altair in
the room, hoping that he would soon end all of this... so much to
hope for and it sickened him.

A
hand was touching his chest and Altair startled, coughing and moaning
around his gag, trying to say something, anything – just to
make this stop already. But the hand was gentle with its touches,
caressing his bruised chest and traveling further south until the
fingers reached his pelvic. Altair was breathing hard, panic slowly
starting to settle in. He didn't know who the hand belonged to he
just hoped
- dear god,
please!
- that it was Malik's.

Those
fingers continued their search, stroking gently over his sides and to
the base of his neck as if the owner of those digits would try to
soothe him. He wished for nothing more than his eyesight now –
those fingers could go to hell if they didn't belong to Malik. He
tried to squirm away, rolling to his left to escape the soft touches
but as soon as he had done so his stomach was slapped and one nipple
twisted hard. Altair groaned around his gag and arched his back. It
could
be Malik... still, he wasn't convinced yet and damn it, he needed to
see or otherwise he would never relax, would never stop to fight.

The
grip on his nipple was strong and it burned. Altair brought his
shoulders up, pressing into the touch to ease the pain, trying hard
to find a way to lessen the discomfort. Seconds passed and he was
breathing heavily around his gag, groaning until the hand let go and
he slumped almost lifeless back against the leather. He made a sound
at the back of his throat and it came close to a whimper. He was
mumbling pleas to take off the mask, to take out the gag to give him
back his hearing but his voice was muffled, and it was nothing more
than a pointless flow of words. Altair begged and could already feel
the tears streaming down his face, burning hot canyons of humiliation
into his cheeks. It was pure agony and nothing else. There wasn't
anything blissful about it and there was nothing which could help him
to make it through all of this. Altair knew he was alone and all on
his own right now – he couldn't do it. He was not ready, not
strong enough. He needed Malik
and he started to whimper his name, a river of hopes mixed with
little 'Please, no more' and 'Stop, make it stop'.

He
never would have thought it could be that easy to break him and
Altair soon wondered if he would make it out of this without taking
any harm – it probably was too late now, the damage already
done. Altair knew about torture and he knew little of BDSM. This
wasn't anything of it as it was nothing but a sick, perverted game
created by a sadistic bastard who liked to see him suffer. Right now
Altair couldn't care less about his pride or how pathetic he might
look, blinded and gagged with a mask covering his face and tied up,
squirming from side to side, crying and begging for his master to end
this. He couldn't care less.

His heart skipped a beat, beating
strongly within his chest. Altair's breathing became erratic and
shallow and he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. Every time he
tried to take larger breaths it felt as if his chest would close, his
sides and lungs aching. He had a full blown panic-attack and a
thought was crossing his mind, that he couldn't die like this –
he violently arched his back as his tossing became wilder, his hands
pulling at his bindings, his legs trying to kick but it was no use.
The rope was too tight and hold him in place. It didn't do him any
good with his panic and he could already taste sour bile at the back
of his throat as he thought he was close to vomiting.

Hands were pressing down against his
shoulders, trying to keep him from trashing and moving but Altair
bucked up against them and fighting them off. Something was
straddling his hips, weight pressing down his body and through a
thick fog of fear Altair realized it was a body sitting upon him.
Hands were traveling over his chest and to his throat, a thumb
brushing over his beating pulse and fingers slowly stroking down his
arms. The touches themselves innocent and gentle, but every finger
which moved over his skin felt like a whip cracking his skin and the
hand running down his arm reached for his right hand, fingers laced
together and squeezing hard.

Altair's movements stilled, his
breathing still laboured and heart beating way too fast. Again his
hand was squeezed and oh, all of this would be so much easier if he
could see who the hand and body belonged to. Whoever it was leaned
down over him and Altair could feel it was a man's chest still
covered with cloth who pushed against his body. Lips pressed down
onto the exposed part of his neck, nibbling warm flesh and teeth
scratching skin. Hot breath crawled over Altair's collarbone and it
took a while before he could make out the faint scent of whiskey and
expensive cologne...

His eyes snapped open and he took in a
shuddering breath as if he had just broken through water's surface,
gasping for the so much needed air.

Malik.

Malik
had drunk whiskey earlier. The smell of cologne, his
cologne... him. It was
him touching Altair,
he was there, he
was with him and Altair wasn't alone.

Not alone. Not alone.

Altair whimpered with relief, his
breathing calming but he could still hear his blood rushing too
loudly within his ears.

He
rolled his head, giving those lips more access as a hand was placed
onto his chest and nails were dragged down, leaving angry red marks
behind. He groaned again and arched his back. He wanted to feel more,
wanted to smell, to taste the other man – he would do
everything
which would free him from this isolation and would do everything
to feel more, to touch the other man. Everything
which would give him his own sanity back. Everything.

Teeth
sunk into his throat, biting hard onto skin and for a moment he
thought blood was running down his neck, the pain sharp and agony
ripping through his body which halt all his movements. Altair took a
shuddering breath in, keeping perfectly still, his eyes moving fast
behind the mask, breath hitching as he tried to hear.

Nothing.
Altair groaned in frustration, his head leaned back against the bench
when long fingers wrapped around his throat, squeezing gently. It was
not enough yet to cut off his airflow – yet. Altair waited and
listened.

The
digits crept up to the side of his head and then, finally, those
hearing protections were removed from his head. He could hear his own
breathing mixed with a soft sigh, Malik's sigh.

“Seven
minutes, thirty-eight seconds. That's the time it took you to fall
into panic. I don't know if I should feel flattered or offended by
your reactions.”

Altair's
tongue moved, his lips pulled back by the gag and all he could manage
was a pathetic little whimper as he tried to speak.

“Sh”,
Malik soothed him, hand once more stroking over the rough leather of
the mask where Altair's cheek was – he could only feel the
pressure of Malik's fingers but not the touch itself. Altair turned
his head into his palm, silently begging for him to please -please!-
take
it off.

But if anything, the man had different
plans.

“No”,
Malik breathed, a touch of amusement swinging within his voice and it
made Altair shiver. “Not yet. You haven't earned it yet for me
to take off the mask, have you?” He pet Altair's cheek and
lifted his weight from the man's chest. Altair could hear him moving
and thought he had stopped right next to his head.

“I'm
very disappointed although it was something I expected.”

Altair's eyes narrowed behind the mask
and a new wave of rage hit him – it helped little of how
claustrophobic he felt and his muscles trembled as he clenched his
fists.

“After
all you're new to this... It can be a bit overwhelming”, Malik
laughed quietly and the sound rippled through his whole body.

His balls were suddenly within a
strong hold and Altair arched his back, his hips coming off the
bench. Pain - hot, white pain was exploding behind his eyes, making
it difficult to breath. He panted heavily through his nose, moaning
in agony with his head thrown back.

“You
won't do it again, will you?”, Malik asked him in a whisper,
his voice sounding so very gentle – nothing compared to the
pain Altair felt collapsing in waves over his body. He shook his head
as he wasn't able to choke back a whimper which crawled up his
throat, hoarse and raw and his voice sounded more animalistic than
human.

“Good”,
and Malik let go of him and only seconds later the mask became loose
and Altair blinked against the bright light which caused his eyes to
water. He liked to believe that it was the reason for tears running
down his cheeks. He would deny the fact that he was crying because of
the pain. Malik hovered above him, standing to his side.

“You
look a bit tired my dear”, Malik purred and his fingers stroke
over Altair's bound wrists. “What do you say if I would... take
those ropes off of you and take you home with me – if you're
behaving like the good little slut you are I might consider to let
you sleep in a bed. Mh? I think it's only a fair offer.” He
twisted his balls violently and again Altair tried to fight against
it, pulling on his bindings in an attempt to get away from the man's
strong grip.

“I
will stop if you promise to follow my rules”, Malik purred, a
sadistic grin pulling at the corners of his mouth as he twisted his
sac even more. Altair felt sick to his stomach but he did manage a
nod, his eyes locked onto the other man's face, hoping he would see
the silent plea.

Malik
leaned very close over his face. “This is what's going to
happen. I will take out that gag., you will get dressed. I'm going to
call us a cab and you will come with me like a good little lapdog.
You won't speak unless I tell you so. You will not make a scene. You
think you can manage that boy?”

Altair nodded fiercely, the saliva
running down over his throat mixing with salty tears and then,
finally, Malik let go of him and he tried to curl into himself but
with the rope holding his body still it was no use. The man stroke
gently over his cheek, his fingers wiping off some of the fluids from
his skin.

He felt too tired to fight anymore,
too tired to even feel angry or humiliated. There was so much pain,
his body hurting all over and there was nothing arousing about it. He
couldn't take it anymore and slowly, ever so slowly Altair realized
that Malik had been on solid ground right from the beginning. He was
broken, defeated and Altair still waited for that feeling to settle
in he had had when being whipped. But it had been different back then
hadn't it? He had come to discover that pain triggered something
inside of him, maybe deep, hidden desires he always knew off but had
been too afraid to admit them. Pain he could handle. Pain got him off
– but his mind's prison was nothing compared to it.

Malik quickly freed him of his
bindings and he slowly sat up, rubbing his wrists and numb fingers
slowly crept upwards to get rid of the gag. His master caught the
small movement, his hand quickly making a stop to it. He didn't scold
him nor did he earn a hand to his stomach or a twist to his nipple.
Instead Malik threw him a dark glare and Altair slowly let his hand
fall to the side of his body, his head hanging low between his
shoulders.

The gag was taken off of him and he
slowly rolled his jaw, the muscles stiff and hurting. He glanced at
Malik, not sure how to act around him but he slowly slid off the
bench, walking on shaky legs to his clothes and got dressed. Only
when he was done he turned around, Malik leaning against a wall with
his arms crossed in front of his chest. He gave him a small smirk but
Altair thought that it seemed odd... his eyes weren't smiling, if
anything he liked to believe he saw concern shining within them. He
gently shook his head – it was probably only his imagination.

Without saying another word Malik
pushed himself from the wall, his clothes not even crinkled and with
everything still in place. Altair run his fingers through his hair
and noticed how it was soaked by his sweat and standing into all
directions. He probably looked what he felt like: worn out, used,
only slightly satisfied but most of all defeated.

Malik opened the door and immediately
he was hit by the deep bass of the music playing, making his organs
vibrating. There were fewer visitors to the club now as it was rather
late and they didn't had to push themselves through a crowd of
dancing or fucking people. When Altair stepped out in the open the
cool night's air hit him and felt like razor sharp knives against his
skin. Goosebumps spread over his arms and down his back and he
watched Malik getting a cab. It all seemed so out of place. While
being in the club Altair could refer to it as some secret fantasy of
his. But seeing Malik outside the building made it all the more real.
It wasn't just some fantasy nor a dream, it was something that much
more and Altair knew it.

When he slid into the seat behind the
driver he noticed the man's quick glance and Altair turned his head
away, starring through the fogged window outside. Only seconds later
Malik was at his side, leaning forwards to tell their driver their
destination before he turned back to Altair. The car soon started to
move and the world was passing by his window in a bright vortex of
colors. He startled when he felt the man's fingers moving over his
neck and he starred at Malik out of the corner of his eyes. He had
his arm draped over the seat's back, his digits curling around the
short hair of his nape, scratching and pulling lightly. It felt
rather nice and for once Altair didn't question his actions and just
tried to relish the offered comfort.

He almost fell asleep and only when
Malik nudged his thigh did he notice that the cab had actually
stopped. He got out of the cab and saw himself standing in front of
an apartment complex, a high building with too many windows –
most of them dark as it was way after midnight. The cab took over,
leaving him and Malik alone underneath a street's lamp, illuminating
their faces in a soft orange glow.

Malik looked him up and down. “Alright
princess, come on. You look as if you would fall asleep every moment
now.” He tugged at Altair's hand, pulling him inside. He slowly
took in their surroundings but nothing seemed to be out of the
ordinary. It actually was a bit funny as he had thought Malik would
be more... wealthy. But this was just a normal, middle-class
building. Not dirty but nothing special about it either. They stopped
in front of an elevator and the ride didn't take that long before
they got out and stopped in front of the man's door.

Once they were inside Malik pushed him
into a large room. A nice, black leather couch standing in the middle
of the room facing a normal-sized TV with a small kitchen unit behind
it. Malik didn't bother with turning on the light and stood behind
him, his chest pressing against Altair's back. “Stay here and
don't move”, he whispered hoarsely into his ear before he
vanished through one of the two doors, closing it behind him so
Altair couldn't watch him anymore. He stood rather uncomfortable, his
eyes roaming over naked walls. No pictures, not even one, no plants
and hardly any decoration at all. The furniture was simple... not
ugly but nothing too fancy. It almost looked sterile.

The door opened again and Malik
returned, holding two items in his hands. One was a gag and Altair
automatically took one step back. Malik gently shook his head, small
smile playing around his lips. “No, you don't do that.”
He took Altair's jaw between his fingers, turning his head to face
him. “I will take the gag off soon but I'm still angry at you.”
Still Altair tried to pull away and Malik sighed. “Alright...
Would it help you to know what's going to happen? Because all I'm
asking here is your trust, Altair.” A shudder went up his spine
as he heard him speaking his name. “I will not leave you.
Nothing bad will happen. You're save here with me. But I will gag
you. I will bind your arms behind your back and I will blindfold you
again.” Only know did Altair notice the black, silken cloth
dangling between the man's fingers. “I'm here. This is my
apartment. I will come to get you soon”, he smirked, his arm
already rising to place the gag between his lips, securing it tight
around his jaw and head. Altair blinked at him, not even putting on
of a fight. He simply didn't care and he tried hard to believe the
man's words.

Everything else was done quickly. His
arms once more behind his back with his wrists crossing, the
blindfold covering his eyes. Malik was still near – he could
smell his cologne and hear him breathing. “On your
knees.” It was a simple order, his voice very low and quiet but
so very firm that it left little room for arguing.

In
the end Altair did get on his knees, sitting on his heels as he
lifted his head as if he was trying to look at Malik even though he
had no use of his eyesight right now. He didn't startle this time
when Malik's fingers gently brushed through his hair. “I'm
taking a shower... and you will wait for me here, sitting in the
middle of the room like a birthday present.” And he went off, a
door opening and closing and once more, Altair was alone with his
thoughts. But this time it wasn't so bad – he heard Malik
moving in the bathroom and soon water running. It kind of soothed
him. He didn't need his eyes to know what the man was doing as long
as he could still hear. Malik was still there, only a couple of feet
away, returning soon to him. It wasn't so bad...

Altair could hear keys being turned in
a lock and his heart's pace quickened. Only seconds later the door
was pushed open and he heard footsteps approaching.

“Malik?
Hey, Malik! I'm home.” Another male's voice and Altair was
thinking fast. He was still kneeling in the middle of the living
room, his wrists bound behind his back, gag secure between his teeth
and the blindfold covering his eyes. For a second his muscles
twitched as he wanted to get up but then what? He couldn't see where
he was going and with his hands tied behind his back there wasn't
anything he could really do. So instead, despite how much he hated
this and how humiliation let his cheeks burn, he kept still.

“Malik
you're home? Ma--”

Altair's head hung low, shame washing
over his body like a wave. He could just tell that the man had
stopped dead in his tracks, certain his eyes had fallen on Altair's
bound frame, making him stop with whatever he was about to say.

He could hear the rustling of clothes
and then a deep sigh. “Oh not again!”, he heard the other
man whine. Those steps came closer and only seconds later stopped
right next to him. He didn't dare to move and somehow was glad that
he didn't have to look the stranger in the eyes.

Another door opened and he made out
the faint sound of water running and then Malik's voice: “Kadar.”
A single name, nothing more, just like that. Malik's lover? Roommate?
Another... ugh, pet?

Kadar moved away from him, going where
Altair remembered being the kitchen. The fridge was opened and
something shoved inside, making bottles rattle. “You brought
another stray home?”, Kader's annoyed voice called out from
behind Altair.

Malik chuckled. “This one I
actually like to keep.” The door closed again, splashing of
water telling Altair that Malik had returned underneath the shower.

Shoes were kicked aside and bumped
into the floor – at least it was what Altair supposed caused
the noise. Kadar groaned and he imagined how he rolled his eyes. He
walked pass Altair and took a seat on the coach, picking up the
remote to turn on the TV.

“I
need to shower too so you rather be quick and don't occupy the bath
for too long”, Kadar said. “I won't”, he heard the
muffled voice of his master.

Altair breathed heavily not believing
of what had just happened. He was kneeling on the floor in the middle
of Malik's living room with another man just a few feet away watching
TV as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on – just how
often had Malik done this before?

Oddly, something which felt like
jealousy stabbed Altair's heart and he would have scoffed hadn't it
been for the gag.

Again he heard the other man moving
but it became difficult now to follow him through the room since the
TV's noise drown out everything else. A hand touched Altair's
shoulder and he jerked in surprise.

“My
brother's fucking you?”,
he heard the man's voice and shook his head. What else was there he
could have done? Altair was in no position to fight back...

Kadar
chuckled and it reminded him so much of Malik's. “Not yet, I
see. Just do me a favor: I have to get up early tomorrow and worked
half the night to pay for my school. If Malik should remove that gag
keep your voice down or I'll make sure he
will
punish you in the morning for disturbing my night's sleep.”
Altair could almost hear the grin within his voice. He was absolutely
sure Malik had done this before and Kadar was used to it. Otherwise
Altair couldn't explain why the man seemed so... comfortable with the
whole situation, even tried to take advantage of it.

“Good”,
Kadar told him in a cheerful voice and pated his cheek, returning to
the couch and switching through channels. Altair couldn't tell how
much longer it took for Malik to return but eventually he did, his
soft footsteps coming closer.

“Don't
make him scream”, he heard Kadar speaking and Malik's soft
chuckle followed soon.

Somehow,
Altair's world just got smaller.
- 4
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- 6
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