Author: smilebot PM
AltairxEzio, drabble-format: Ignorance personified.Rated: Fiction M - English - Humor/Romance - Altaïr & Ezio A. - Words: 643 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 27 - Follows: 1 - Published: 09-22-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6345110
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"And where do you think you are going?"
Barely suppressing an inquiry, Ezio allowed the older man to back him against the wall, letting the question fall free from a single arch of his brow when a demanding hand planted itself near his face. "Messer?"
A smirk. "Hitherto, my men have reported to me that certain someone has been attempting to rob the armoire—how do you plead, child?"
"Ah … I plead …" He licked his lips. "Not guilty."
"Is that so?"
Yes, no, maybe so.
"Then," he slowly began, "I will search, hereby acting upon the jurisdictions of the Grand Master of the Creed; you may declare silence for your trial." Efficiently, he peeled off the younger male's hood in a quick swipe and stifled an impish grin as he ghosted a hand near the curve of his buttocks—indubitably, there was so much more to judge than the supposed crime. "A full body investigation is required."
"Such is the law?"
"I am the law."
So goes the verdict.
"You know what I mean!"
Altair coolly blinked. "It seems that I know not of what you are currently referring to."
"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Ezio snapped in an irritated fashion, slamming his hands on the cold stones of the makeshift windowsill. "Are you so blind as to ignore your surroundings, old man?"
A gravelly huff. "So the student speaks."
"No, the student does not speak: He barks at the teacher's blank slate." Whipping around, he crossed his arms against his chest as he leaned on the hard surface, growing more and more agitated at the audacity of the older male to have barely restrained confusion on his face—and this man was the renowned erudite of Masyaf?
At least, from the language of an arched brow.
"Okay, let us do it your way, then." Pause—before he has time to conceal that enigmatic streak of chaos in his speech. "That other geezer liked what he saw! A lot!"
Stillness, empty, contorted, bemused. "Would you care to elaborate?"
God, the horror! "The eye! Aye, maron! He was giving you the eye! And you didn't do shit about it!"
"The eye! What men give when they see a beautiful woman cross their paths!"
" … Malik saw a beautiful woman … and gave up an eye?"
"No, he was checking you out!"
"Malik was inspecting my eyes?"
" … No, you fucking idiota! He was looking at your ass! And your gentali!"
Now, Altair looked more perplexed than disturbed, and maybe it was the skewered innocence that made him want to hurl himself out the window. "And why would you say that?"
"Because he likes what he sees!"
" … "
"I still do not understand."
Apparently, the Apple can only raise so much of one's I.Q.
"Ah, so I found one, didn't I?" Ezio delightedly purred, latching onto the other man's forearms to boost his lips higher. "Right here, no?"
Altair could not suppress a creeping shudder that wracked his frame, his fingers trembling erratically as the younger figure continued his savage assault on the back of his right shoulder; there was nothing he could do but stagger his breaths, eyes fluttering closed, his body tense, cock hard, with hot hands that slid over the dips of his spine and pressed into the sensitive area—control, the power he had, gone, he failed in protesting the reversal of their positions, once more staring into deviant eyes that spoke of domineering mischief as well as the hands that appeared on each side of his head.
Ezio slid his hands down his torso and brushed his hip bone. "This was your weapon."
"And this is mine."
"The game begins, messer."
"And I am not about to lose."