Covering his eyes with his arm, Altair erratically breathed as the younger male came back up next to him, covering his mouth with a sloppy kiss that ended with the former hitching his legs. A chuckle left him when the Grand Master rolled them both over and settled on his abdomen.

"Zarba—where did you learn how to do that?"

Ezio touched his lips.



A laugh.

"You might want to replace Malik's bowl of fruit—the bananas are missing."


"What do you want to do, now?"

Altair pushed the other's head downwards.

"What we have been doing before."


"Do you wish for me to stop?"

Panting, Ezio weakly shook his head as he looked back, bunching his hands into the pillows when he felt the grip on his buttocks tighten. "N-No." A gasp. "Give it to me faster."

Altair could not refuse.


Ezio crawled on top of the other.

"Ancora una volta."

Shifting, Altair welcomed the assassin's weight on his chest, arching a brow when an apparent arousal ground down onto his lower half in a zealous manner. Incredulity pulled at his lips, though amusement was rampant at the eager look that beckoned him. "Again?"

"That was a while back."


"Now, hurry up and please me."

"Lest, of course, you are really old where it matters."


Malik threw his manuscripts at the wall.

"Keep it down, or I'll throw you out!"


"Talk dirty to me, old man," he breathes, curling his finger's around Altair's shoulders. "Talk dirty to me."

Altair does.

And he loves it the other way around, also.


"They say that the Grand Master's bed is reinforced into the wall."

Ezio pulled on the other's hands into the chamber.

"Want to see if that is valid?"