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The Kiss	By : ObsidianButterfly Category: +A through F > Assassin's Creed Views: 3366 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or it's characters including Haytham and Ziio, all right's belong to Ubisoft and make no money from this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-The Kiss
- 1
The Kiss
By Obsidian Butterfly
Assassin’s Creed 3: Haytham X Ziio
Summary: The aftermath of Ziio and Haytham’s kiss within the scared cave.
Warnings: adult only, het, fingering, pwp , nsfw

THE kiss. The kiss still lingered on his lips. It had been…exquisite. The soft, warm pressure from her lips haunted his dreams and, he had to admit truthfully, most of his waking thoughts.
The precursor site had been such a failure to him, to the Templars, to the Order in general. What once promised answers and power revealed itself to be nothing more than a cave of ancient words and primitive doodling’s. Disappointment had initially twisted in his gut until he could not breathe, so much was lost, so much work; it all came to nothing.
Ziio had been kind to him, she must have sensed his disillusionment and he appreciated her attempt to comfort him. She told him the story of her people and he realised he still had something to fight for and also hope.
Her delicate fingers brushing along his back penetrated him to the very core and when she took his gloved hand in hers he was sure it must have trembled. As he raised his eyes to her, he had found compassion, her expression soft and comforting.
He had tried being chivalrous, he really had, but the instant her warm hand clasped his cheek Haytham knew he was done for. She could have stabbed him through the heart right there and he wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to defend himself. Who was he kidding his mind jeered at him? He would have offered it to her on a plate, he would have offered her anything, she had only to ask.
Haytham closed his eyes as he sat, currently, in the dim candlelight at the Concord Inn. Even after all this time he could picture the scene clearly in his mind. Ziio reached up towards him and his body reacted instinctively, lowering his head towards her, as their lips met in that first delicate embrace. He will admit it, he moaned when her fingers curled through his hair, his scalp tingling at her every caress. Haytham had cursed his gloves as his hands had slide down her arms and he found that he could not feel their skin connecting.
Their kiss deepened. Ziio's smaller, softer, body melted into the front of his as he pulled her closer. The taste of her was exotic but fresh; he could almost say he tasted fresh air, sunshine and possibly an undercurrent of pine. Up until that point he wasn’t sure you could actually claim to taste air but she did; light and clean, it took his own breath away.
He risked a further advance, tentatively caressing her lips with his tongue until she sighed and opened her mouth slightly. It allowed him the opportunity to enter her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers.
Haytham didn't know how long they stood there, in her people’s sacred cave, mouths exploring one another. It may have been minutes, at the time it felt like days, but with only that memory for comfort now it all seemed too brief.
The Grandmaster sighed heavily through his nose and took a long swallow from the tankard of ale in front of him. Music played loudly in the background of the Inn. People chatted loudly, riotously, as they sang and danced and enjoyed themselves while he sulked in a corner.
His mind constantly drifted back to her. She had left him. Yes, she was good at that, he thought bitterly. Running away. Disappearing without a backwards glance or moment’s notice into the forest. Inside the cave they had broken apart, both breathing heavily from their passionate embrace. He licked his lips gazing at her while she looked back and he could see it plainly; the guilt. Her eyes darted around her before settling back, nervously, on him and Haytham could feel the panic radiate off her body, he didn’t have to see it in her eyes.
‘Ziio, I-‘
Even now he didn’t know what he planned to say to her, he hoped if he opened his mouth something useful would tumble out, but her wide eyes shocked him and she shook her head silently. Before he knew it she had turned and fled, racing out the cave entrance into the night. By the time he reached the entrance to peer out into the darkness she was gone.
He had tried calling out, ‘Ziio!’
Silence. His own voice echoing into the night sky. There was no sign of her.
Was it him he wondered, or her? Perhaps the setting? A sacred cave was certainly not the place to be considering what their kiss was leading to. There was her own people to consider, and his as Haytham pondered, deeply, their positions, their beliefs, their culture, it all clashed.
Was any sort of relationship feasible between a white middle-class Englishman and a native Mohawk woman? Had he acted improperly towards her? He was frustrated and angry; whether it was at himself or her he wasn’t fully sure.
Back in the present Haytham groaned into his drink. But the kiss though! He couldn’t stop thinking of her. He enjoyed their time together, all the planning and work in the lead up to ambushing Braddock, it had been…almost fun. Ziio was sharp, quick witted, beautiful, but completely deadly. Her skills amazed him; she surprised him with her strength and resourcefulness constantly. He had Charles watching for signs of her frequently, he loved it when she would turn up unannounced to share bits of information or gather supplies. She was the highlight of his day.
Of course his initial interest was the site. He had been sent here with a job to do after all and he considered, given their initial interaction, she may be best placed to help him. He had used her, she had used him, they both mutually consented but the relationship that had developed between them…he had valued that.
Haytham opened his eyes as a draught blew into the Inn. He glanced at the door to see Charles Lee walking over to him.
‘Good evening, Master Kenway!’
Haytham noted the forced cheeriness in his voice. He admitted he had sulked for the last few weeks since she disappeared, three weeks and not a sign from her, not doubt Charles noticed and he seemed to have made it his mission to break him from his reverie.
‘Charles,’ he nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment.
Haytham stared at the man waiting for news. Silence stretched painfully between them as Lee ordered a drink and sat down in the chair opposite. Charles merely looked at him, a slightly exasperated expression. Haytham raised an eyebrow; he was still Grandmaster and whatever Charles thought of him and Ziio he had best keep it to himself.
Charles relented, finally, rolling his eyes and sighed deeply though his nose.
‘No sign of her, Sir.’
‘You are sure.’
‘Absolutely-it’s just, well, why do you want to find her again so badly, Sir? You have what you went looking for. It was not what we expected. Unless you think the savages were lying to us and know more about the ones that came before?’
Haytham had to bite back his anger. ‘Don’t call them that Charles, they are not savages!’
Lee looked at him sceptically. Haytham lowered his voice, attempting not to sound threatening, or punching the man.
‘I do not believe the Mohawk, or any of the tribes people for that matter, know more about what were are looking for-‘
‘But-‘
‘Drop it Charles. I was simply keen to make sure she was alright. Ziio has been helpful and if something else did come up, I was counting on her support and guidance.’
God, the Grandmaster thought, since when did he become such a terrible liar? He used to be good at it. Charles looked as if he was about to say something else but wisely changed his mind sipped his drink silently.
A noise turned Haytham in his seat. Hickey and William had arrived and were walking over to their table. Hickey threw himself ungracefully down into a chair, sloshing his drink all over the table and floor.
‘Oi, Afam,’ he slurred, his usual inebriated self, ‘Why so long in the face?’ He was grinning at his own humour.
Haytham sighed; he was not in the mood for this, for any of these people with their incessant chatter and their probing questions. He rose to his feet and nodded at them.
‘I apologise Gentlemen, I will be heading home.’
They eyed each other before rising to their feet. He scowled at their conspiratorial glances across his head. He did not need their mollycoddling!
‘Sir.’
‘Good night, Sir.’
‘See ya, Afam.’
He left them to their drinking and headed outside the Inn. As the cool, crisp night air hit him he swayed slightly, realising now he may have over indulged in the alcohol. Never mind, he thought, it was a short walk home. While his manor rested in Lexington he did have a small house in Concord that he preferred to use if business brought him this way or to Boston. He hated relying on Inns; you never knew who else may be lurking there.
The Grandmaster set of down a dirt path then took a short cut across some grassy fields. As he walked, out the corner of his eye, just in the tree line, he caught movement. He stopped suddenly, peering into the darkness.
A tall figure in what appeared to be furs was moving silently though the trees. He stood stock still, waiting, as his eyes adjusted to the moonlight. It was a native man, tall, well built, a shaved head; he appeared to be hunting because as Haytham watched the native pulled a snare up from the ground with a rabbit contained within.
Haytham headed towards him instinctively, alcohol and passion resulted in not thinking of any possible consequences.
‘Excuse me,’ he called. ‘Excuse me, Sir?’
The man stopped, staring at him suspiciously before turning his back and heading further into the trees.
‘No, please wait!’ Haytham jogged to catch him. The tribesman had stopped and turned towards the man in pursuit. Haytham came to a standstill a few feet from him, not wanting to appear threatening he held his hand out, palms up.
‘My name is Haytham Kenway.’ The man just looked at him, expressionless.
‘I-I…’ What did he want, he suddenly realised? What did he stop this man for? Haytham wanted to ask him about Ziio, he was taking a chance, a mere whim. He couldn’t even tell if they were from the same tribe, he didn’t even speak their language.
He took a breath, his nagging guilt made him try.
‘I am looking for a woman. A native woman. Her name is Ziio.’
‘Ziio?’ The man repeated, puzzled.
Haytham sighed, he was being silly, and he knew it. It did not stand to reason they all knew each other. It is not like he himself could name every person in Boston.
‘Kan-kani-k-,’ Damn it! He couldn’t even say her proper name! Haytham mentally kicked himself.
‘Ziio, her name was Ziio,’ he murmured to the ground dejectedly. It was hopeless.
Suddenly something hard and solid hit him on the back of his head, knocking his hat off into the snow. Shocked and slightly drunk he went down to the ground hard. Remembering his training and gathering some wits he attempted to roll and pull himself up when something else hit him on the back of his legs. The Templar quickly changed and aimed to draw his sword but a foot connected with his hand causing him to grunt in pain and drop it, another foot connected with his temple blackening his vision and sending ringing through his ears.
As he lay there dazed, another native stood over him, an enraged expression playing on his features with tomahawk in hand, raised to come down to him.
Haytham knew he had been a fool, he was alone, in the dark and the alcohol had numbed his senses. He had been too preoccupied with finding her that he ignored all the dangers around him. A part of his brain thought he deserved to be killed like this; he was a disgrace for being caught out so easily.
He braced himself from the blow. Nothing came. He looked up to see an expanse of dark sky and he could feel cold snow melting under him into water, soaking into his clothing. His head still buzzed from the blow and his hand ached but he could now hear yelling above him. Raised Native voices shouting in a language he didn’t understand filled the air. Whatever it was, it was a heated debate.
Swiftly above him appeared the face of an angel, framed by moonlight. No, not an angel. It was her!
‘Ziio-‘ He called out; he thought he was seeing things, how hard had he hit his head?
She peered down at him, a small quirk of her lips as she said, ‘Are you touched in the head?’
He let out a small bark of laughter at her joke of their first meeting.
‘Haytham, are you hurt?’
He mentally checked himself, things hurt but nothing was broken, he was sure he could live with it. He gave a small shake of his head.
‘Not really, more stunned than anything.’
She reached down and grabbed his arm, helping him to his feet. He brushed some of the snow from himself and picked up his fallen hat before looking at her.
‘To what do I owe the rescue?’
‘We were hunting, collecting game for our people. Some of the others thought you were trying to capture slaves’, although, she rolled her eyes, ‘walking up to someone and asking for people by name is usually not a warning that your old friend Braddock or Silas did. I knew something was not right. You are lucky I was here with them to explain that you were a simple idiot and not a threat, they would have probably just killed you.’
Haytham noted she was smirking at him, amused by her own wit and cleverness. Gods that infuriating woman! He was so please to see her.
He tried to sound nonchalant as he gave her a gracious ‘Thank you, Ziio.’ His inner conscious sneered at his attempted bravado.
She nodded her head but then turned to leave. He reached out, glad to have finally found her now and not wanting to lose his opportunity. ‘Wait, please?’
She turned back to him, her expression uneasy and unsure, glaring at his hand resting on her arm. He quickly dropped it back to his side before clearing his throat.
‘I-I,’ God, where did he start? He played over several conversations in his mind over the weeks since he had last seen her. All the things he could say or wanted to say now jumbled in his mouth and dried out his tongue. Ziio simply looked at him expectantly.
‘I have been looking for you, since that night in the cave.’ He mentally kicked himself, poor start Haytham, very poor.
Her voice was like ice. ‘It was a mistake.’
Haytham bit his lip and shook his head. ‘I wanted that mistake, Ziio. I have thought of you often and our actions since it happened.’
She raised a sarcastic eyebrow, ‘You do not think with your head.’
He laughed. Perhaps he wasn’t. How long had it been since a woman had kissed him like that, with such passion? He couldn’t remember. Her voice cut across his thoughts-
‘It would not work, Haytham.’
‘Can we at least try?’
She shook her head sadly. His heart sank. Surely they could try? He was willing to take the risk, couldn’t she? Had the kiss meant anything to her or was it on a whim? He swallowed, stunned at how crushed he felt.
Ziio looked at him, her expression soft; she reached out a hand towards his face, possibly to brush his cheek. He stepped back quickly and stumbled slightly, startling her and causing her hand to freeze its movement.
‘Please, don’t,’ he begged, voice strained as a lump rose in his throat, ‘I will die if you touch me.’
He noted that she looked slightly hurt.
‘Haytham, I’m so sorry.’
He could only nod his head.
A few moments of indecision passed, both looking at one another and not wanting to make the first move to go. Haytham was surprised when she reached down and took his larger hand in hers, wrapping her fingers gently around his palm. She tugged on his hand pulling him towards her before turning and setting off through the ankle deep snow.
He followed in a daze, wondering where they were going as she led him by the hand through the trees. They seemed to walk for an age, his feet were becoming numb and the pain in his head was still there like a silent weight on top of his head.
They came to a small clearing with a lake standing a few hundred feet away. Haytham could see where the snow was cleared all around the camp and a small tent had been erected with a fire crackling merrily outside. As he glanced around he noticed packs inside the tent with furs and blankets on the base and realised Ziio must have led him to her camp.
The Mohawk woman crouched down with ease and crawled into the mass of fabric within the tent, while he stood outside, hands behind his back, wondering what was going on. She ducked her head back out and motioned for him to follow her in before disappearing from view again.
He sighed, exasperatedly, before easing to the ground and crawling inside. Ziio was sitting crossed legged, holding a scrap of cloth and as he settled into a sitting position beside her she brought it up to his temple. He noted it must have been soaked in something as a cool wetness touched his forehead and he could smell some sort of plant or flower. When she pulled the cloth away he spotted a few smears of blood. The Grandmaster hadn’t even realised he was bleeding from the earlier attack. This was not good he realised. This is why he had been careless. He could only think of her whenever she was near.
Ziio carefully cleaned his wound and Haytham couldn’t help close his eyes in bliss as her fingers brushed his face or pushed his hair back. He was enjoying her ministrations too much as he had not realised she had stopped. He opened his eyes suddenly; she was now looking at him, his slackened, peaceful features, the rag placed back into a pack at the side of the tent.
She gave him a small smile brushing her hand through the side of his hair as he leaned into her touch. He couldn’t help himself; he placed a gentle kiss on the inside of her palm, noting with delight, her small sigh at his touch.
Her expression was soft but her eyes were still unsure as she pulled his face towards hers gently. Excited, Haytham wanted to lean into those lips again, just like the cave, and get lost in her. He put his hand up on her should stopping their bodies connecting. He was a few inches from her face, searching those dark chocolate coloured eyes; he licked his lips trying to find the courage of what he had to say.
‘No.’
She looked at him, puzzled.
‘No. I can’t do this. Not if-not if you will not be here tomorrow.’ It killed him to stop, almost as much as it killed him to say it.
He searched her beautiful face hoping he could see an answer there. She seemed to be thinking but whatever was behind her eyes he could not read. Ziio gave a small nod, just a brief dip of her head. A knot in his chest seemed to lift, there was nothing holding them back now. They would try and make something of this. Surely, dear lord, he could make them work?
He closed the last few inches between them, his lips meeting hers as he slid his arms around her body pulling her closer towards him. He needed to feel her, he wanted to know she was there and was not going anywhere.
Insistent hands explored each other’s bodies through the clothing, delighting in the different textures and firm body’s beneath. Haytham gently reached up to one of her braids and tugged at the feather entwined in it before deftly loosening it with his fingers. She watched him placidly as he loosened her hair, he was eager to see it fanned out around her. Ziio leaned her head back with a sigh as he ran his fingers through her now free hair, delighting in the silky texture of it.
He bent to her lips again, capturing them with his own before kissing along her jawline. Burying his nose in her fragrant hair, he inhaled deeply, before nibbling around her earlobe and trailing kisses down her neck. Haytham felt her pulse flutter under his lips as he gently sank his teeth into her flesh.
He pulled back, enjoying her enraptured expression as her head tilted back to look him in the eye.
‘Remove your clothing,’ she said
Haytham raised an eyebrow, chuckling at her blunt and forward request. Evidently this was an order and one he did not carry out quick enough. Before he could move her fingers reached to his neck and untied his cape and scarf. The hood slid down his back behind him and she pulled the scarf from him, discarding the clothing in a pile at the back of the tent. He quickly diverged himself of his jacket, fumbling over the buttons with his excited fingers.
As he shrugged his arms out she leaned forward to help him, hurriedly flicking the buttons of his waistcoat and pulling it open. Her hands slid underneath and caressed his chest and sides through his shirt; he could feel the fiery touch against his skin even through the material. He leaned over to remove his own shoes as Ziio did the same with hers.
Haytham reached out and lightly brushed her bare foot, enjoying her giggle as she slid it away from him and his teasing hands. He laughed at her reaction before leaning in to kiss her again, a smile still playing on her lips. He eased her back onto the covers, eager to stretch his body along hers as their legs tangled together.
Ziio’s hands reached around to fist the back of his shirt as he buried his nose behind her ear and sucked the sensitive flesh there. Her body writhed under him sending pleasure throughout his own body every time they brushed together; her legs parted wider, silently encouraging more and allowing his body to slip between them fully. His hips ground into her, his erection too firm and tight within the confined of his breeches. Haytham longed to bury himself into her waiting body.
His hands slid under a fold of fabric, he pulled it gently up and ducked his head down thinking he could come into contact with her skin. He was puzzled to find more fabric covering her body from view. As Haytham’s head disappeared up her top, Ziio laughed as he pulled and tugged.
‘What are you doing?’ She enquired, amused.
Haytham reappeared, his hair mussed and escaping his ponytail. He looked flustered.
‘How do you get this infernal thing off?’
She smiled at him, he was teasing but her clothing was foreign to him and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to unwrap so many layers. Ziio sat up to help him, pulling her cape over her head before deftly unlacing ties at her neck and sides. Gradually the layers of hide and fur loosened, revealing patches of dark creamy skin and Haytham was torn between helping and simply staring at the slow, sensuous reveal of her body. He settled on wriggled out the last of his own clothing in haste, removing his breeches and finally pulling his thin undershirt over his head.
Ziio was now completely naked before him and he gazed appreciatively at the curved body before him, the toned muscle, the long flowing raven coloured hair, the delicate swell of breast and hips. She rolled over onto her stomach and reached out to throw the last of her clothing onto a pile with the rest, he grinned as her bare ass was in the air presented to him; he couldn’t help himself. Haytham leaned over, covering the back of her body with his own, breathing heavily in her ear at the feeling of his bare skin running along the curve of her ass and her back.
He pushed the front of his body into her, forcing her own face down into the bedding. She squirmed under him as he assaulted the back of her neck with his teeth and lips, brushing her hair delicately out the way.
Haytham watched her hungrily, enjoying every movement, every reaction. He wanted to hear her soft moans and gasps just for him. He started at the base of her spin, running his tongue the full length to her neck in one slow, sensuous, movement. The woman moaned and writhed under him so he did it again before pressing himself against her, delighting in the feel of his hard cock pushing against the soft flesh of her ass.
As Ziio bucked her hips up towards him, a slight flex of his own allowed his cock to slide between her legs. The head of him brushed against her most sensitive areas as a small sigh escaped her mouth, her eyes fluttering closed. He could feel her wetness across the head of his dick as used his hips to slide himself through her folds, never quite allowing himself the final joy of penetration. His ego swelled as her legs opened wider, flexing, trying to position him better and get him to enter her. She was making soft, eager little noises in her throat that was music to his ears, whimpering in frustration every time he past her entrance and missed.
The Grandmaster nibbled her ear, murmuring, ‘Patience,’ as he sneaked one hand down the front of her body. He delicately brushed a breast, her sides, her hips, while continuing to rub his hardened member against backside, hands wandering ever lower.
He came to the junction between her legs, slipping one long index finger between and finding her wet and ready. He coated his fingers before pulling back to massaged the sensitive nub that was her clit. She gasped and bucked against him as he lubricated it, his fingers sliding back and forward with ease from her excitement. Haytham increased the pressure, cradling the back of her body against him while circling the hardened clit faster as her breathing became erratic. She was close, he could feel it, so pressed his advantage. Sliding his hand lower he allowed his first two fingers to enter her tight body, feeling her inner muscles clamp down around their intrusion as he pressed the heel of his palm against her swollen nub.
His fingers slipped in and out of her while his palm massaged her clit forcefully, until finally he heard a small whimper from underneath him and her body tensed, her cries of orgasm lost as she buried her face into the furs. Ziio sagged against the bedding as Haytham withdrew his hand, gently rolling her over onto her back.
He smiled. Pleased at satisfying her and finding her post orgasm lust filled gaze now back at him. He reached down to capture her lips in his own as she cradled his head in her hands. There was no teasing this time, he could no longer wait. As she shifted her hips under him he pushed forward sinking into her wet, warm, body with a welcome groan.
Ziio wrapped her legs around his hips, her hands clutching at his back, scrapping fingernails gently down him as he buried his face into her neck bucking his hips into her. She clung to him, wrapping her body around him like a cat being stroked as his tempo increased. Her hips rose to match his thrusts initially but soon both were so lost in their own pleasure any rhythm was gone as their bodies danced together desperately seeking release.
His arms were shaking from the effort of holding his body off hers but he could feel a low pressure in his groin. He was so close to his own orgasm, there would be nothing he could do to stop it. He cried out and leaned in to kiss her, noting her flushed expression and sheen of sweat on her brown and between her breasts. His lips moved to lick the sweat salted skin of her neck and he murmured, ‘I love you, Ziio,’ into her ear as her teeth sunk gently into his shoulder. His back arched as his whole lower body contracted, rippling the pleasure from his balls to the tip of his cock as he came inside her.
Haytham didn’t know how long he had been lost in his own pleasure, he thought his vision may have even blurred because he was suddenly lying on his back staring at the roof of the tent with Ziio cradled under one arm, her head resting gently on his shoulder. He traced lazy patterns up and down her spin as they snuggled with their legs intertwined.
This, he thought, was bliss.
The pair dozed on and off in post coital pleasure. Ziio suddenly got up and headed outside, Haytham smirked at her wandering off naked watching her ass as it wiggled away from him, he wolf whistled and she stuck her tongue out at him.
There was a chill on her skin as she came back with some food and water and he thoroughly enjoyed warming her back up again. He lost count how many times he had her that night, both lost in each other’s company and pleasure, stopping to rest briefly before engaging in another bout of passionate lovemaking. His body covered hers every in conceivable way he could think of until both of them fell into an exhausted sleep just as the sun peeking over the horizon, indicating the coming dawn.

Haytham had never felt so comfortable, so safe and content than sleeping here with her. His eyes were closed but his brain was beginning to chase the sleep from him. He could sense it was late in the day as bright sunlight illuminated light behind even his closed eyelids and he could hear the happy twittering of birds from outside.
He wasn’t even fully conscious yet but his stomach dropped. He knew. He knew without even opening his eyes. He knew with some part of his body, his soul, that she was gone.
Haytham opened his eyes, assaulted by the bright light as he glanced around despite himself. He was wrapped in the coverings and still in the tent but nothing else was there. Ziio and all her things were gone. Anger and disappointment gnawed at his heart. She had left, she had said she wouldn’t.
He dressed quickly; as he straightened his mussed hair back into the ribbon he noticed it lying on the covers beside him where she herself had been. He reached out and picked it up; a long brown hide cord with a few beads and one black and white feather laced through the end. He recognised it as one he had pulled from her hair the previous night.
Left there for him as a reminder, a keepsake. Or a taunt, his mind snarled. He fisted the necklace as anger instinctively pushed him to throw it in the campfire outside. He paused just as he was about to release it from his grip. Watching he feather flutter gently in the breeze he couldn’t do it. Not if he was unlikely to see her again. The cowardly, sentimental, part of him won, he reached up and tied the thong around his neck, carefully tucking it under his clothing so that it lay across his skin. He could feel the feather there against his chest, tickling him with every movement. Haytham left the clearing and started out for home, angry and bitter; he hated her for leaving, for lying, for betraying him just like the others.

~fin
- 1
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The Kiss