Guess what everyone? It's here! Prepare to be disappointed because I'm not at all comfortable with the progress I've made with this chapter! :D Yeah, honestly, I think this chapter sucks and if pressed I will always say that chapter one is my favorite. This chapter took me forever to write and I just cannot honestly tell you that I'm happy with the end result.

However, if it pleases the lot of you, read it and take in the horrible writing and badly done sex scene. Please leave a review or I will assume you hated it and more than likely never post a story like this again. Seriously guys. REVIEW. I absolutely need to know what you think about this chapter especially. Because I'm writing other things for this fandom but I'm just not sure if I like them enough to want to post them.

So you could really help me out by giving me feedback, commentary and most importantly CRITISICM. Don't tell me it's good to feed my ego I need to KNOW what you THIIIINK. My writing depends on it.

Yeah, can you guys tell how much this chapter has me twitchy? I'm so very not satisfied with it but I can't put off posting it any longer. Have fun my beloveds!


The moment Desmond reached the roof of the bureau he ducked and turned out of Altair's slackened grip on his arm. He used the momentum to turn into a hand spring and toss himself to the ground into a waiting haystack. From there he quickly jumped out just as the older assassin jumped in and began to run down the street, going from crowd to crowd. The American skidded into the first alley he found and jumped up a pile of boxes and onto a beam allowing himself to run towards the Templar guard patrolling the rooftop. His bound hands easily snapped the man's neck.

From behind him he could swear he heard his ancestor chuckle and the sound sent a spark of heat down his spine even as he continued to flee the skilled assassin who pursued him. As he crossed a clothes line to an adjoining roof he dug his teeth into the red cloth Altair had used to tie his wrists and pulled it undone with just the slightest bit of difficulty. It had been a quick and uncomplicated knot but he had no doubt that anyone other than an assassin would've been unable to get out of it without aid. Heck, he wouldn't have been able to if he couldn't use his teeth. Grinning as the scarf came undone he glanced over his shoulder and waved the object before releasing it.

Altair raised an eyebrow as he caught it. "Cute Desmond." He muttered throwing a knife towards a guard who'd been about to spot their chase. Desmond laughed as he made a left and dropped onto a lower roof before darting quickly around a corner. Only to stutter to a stop as he encountered a sharp drop with no haystack in sight.

Frowning the brunette turned just in time to avoid a punch from his ancestor. With a yelp he tried to get around the more experienced man so that he at least didn't have his back to a three story plummet. Unfortunately Altair wasn't allowing that and easily kept Desmond cornered. A well-aimed kick nearly sent Desmond toppling over the side of the roof. He would've if Altair hadn't grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back.

The Arabic man twisted so that Desmond's back was facing him and then forced him onto his knees. Desmond gulped at the warmth of Altair's chest pressing against his back and the cloth once again binding his wrists only this time behind him. Maybe he shouldn't have given that back to him. "Did you really think you could get away from me so easily?" The words were a harsh whisper in his ear and they sent a shudder down his spine.

"Well," he laughed out breathlessly. "It wouldn't have been worth anything if you didn't have to work for it." Altair seemed to consider his words for a moment. One of his hands lingered on Desmond's bound wrists while the other rested on his stomach.

"Perhaps you are right." He conceded at last. Desmond grinned triumphantly only to choke on a moan as the Arab's words were followed by a sharp bite to his throat. "I enjoy a chase, but I would prefer to enjoy my prize." Desmond's eyes fluttered shut as Altair began to mouth harsh nips and sucks up the expanse of his neck.

"S-so," he groaned twitching as his teeth scraped a particularly sensitive spot. "What, I'm your prize now?"

"I had to win you didn't I?"

"I'd," he cut himself off with a hiss as one of Altair's hands slid under his shirt to scrape across his abdomen. "I'd prefer to think of myself as, you know, not a prize."

Altair hummed rubbing his hips against Desmond's backside. He let out a quiet growl and bit the younger assassin's neck hard. Desmond twitched and his head fell back against Altair's shoulder. "I would prefer to think of you naked," he licked the newly forming bruises on Desmond's throat, "and screaming."

"Sadist." Desmond accused in a breathy, amused voice. The older man's response was to scrape a fingernail across one of Desmond's nipples making him shudder and groan. "See? Sadist."

Altair chuckled and the hand on Desmond's back moved to his front, cupping him through the fabric of his pants. Desmond grunted as his ancestor squeezed and simultaneously arched his hips forward, rubbing his own very prominent erection against his ass. Fuck there were too many layers. Altair moaned quietly into his ear as his fingers slid under Desmond's pants to dig into the muscled, bony curve of his hip. The hand under his shirt left and wound up on the back of his neck, forcing him down so that his shoulders and the side of his face scraped the roof.

Desmond winced. "Ow." He said simply and could practically see Altair rolling his sharp, gold eyes but he was otherwise ignored. Both of Altair's large hands tugged his pants down to his knees, exposing and presenting his bare ass. The older man made a sound halfway between a growl and a sigh and slid his hands slowly up Desmond's thighs.

Desmond shifted enough to look over his shoulder. "Enjoying the view?" He asked.

Altair's lips twitched. "Yes." He replied parting his descendant's cheeks and rubbing the bulge in his robe between them. Desmond twitched and groaned, eyes sliding shut at the hard friction against his sensitive hole.

"F-fuck just do it."

The master assassin's eyes narrowed. "You are very demanding for a man so helpless." He pushed his thumb against the American's hole, just hard enough for the tip to disappear inside.

Desmond laughed, it was a quiet sound that seemed almost punched out of him. "It's part of my charm."

"Indeed." Altair agreed, pushing more of his thumb forward into that tight, dry heat before pulling it out. He bent himself over Desmond so his chest was flush against his back. "But for now," he breathed into his ear, "be silent."

"Silent?" Desmond asked and his question was rewarded with a sharp bite to his ear. "Nn, don't you want to hear me beg?" His words were teasing and serious all at once and he let out a low long whine. "Oh, A-Altair, please," he rocked his hips back against Altair's choking a surprised moan from the man. "Yes, harder, please."

Altair growled and bit the back of Desmond's neck hard enough to break the skin. The younger assassin let out a quick cry of surprise and shuddered. "Do not tease me boy," he snapped, "or I will put a length of cloth in your mouth to assist your silence."

Another quiet laugh. "Kinky." Altair's eyes narrowed and he shoved three fingers into Desmond's mouth. The younger man made a surprised noise at the sudden intrusion.

"Put your mouth to better use." Altair hissed, golden eyes flashing and Desmond smirked. He made a show of bobbing his head forward so the fingers hit the back of his throat and then licking a slow stripe up the middle finger. Groaning he sucked hard and wrapped his tongue around the digits as much as he could while still moving his head. Altair hissed quietly and pressed said fingers into Desmond's tongue, holding it still.

"Petulant brat." He grunted when the American bit him. "Would you rather I go in dry?"

Desmond laughed around the fingers and then twisted his head so his mouth left them. "Well you could, or you could reach into my pocket and pull out the vile of oil I found."

Altair raised an eyebrow but shoved his hand into the pocket of Desmond's jeans and slipped the vial out. "Found?"

"Found may be a bit misleading." Desmond admitted, watching as Altair poured some of the oil over his fingers.

"I'm sure." The older assassin murmured, slicking his fingers together to allow the oil to spread. He then slid the tip of one finger slowly along Desmond's hole.

Desmond jerked. "Y-yes." He took a deep breath as Altair repeated the motion. "I took it from some handsy guard." He admitted and then yelped as the finger slid suddenly and completely inside of him.

Altair leaned over his back and practically growled into his ear. "Handsy?"

The American rolled his eyes only to close them and shudder a moan as Altair pumped the finger in and out of him. "No-not towards me. A woman, he was being," Altair cut him off with a kiss.

"Good." He breathed against his descendants lips.

"Possessive." Desmond accused with a hiss as the finger was twisted a bit harshly.

Altair pressed his mouth harshly against the other assassin's. "You are mine." He growled against Desmond's mouth before nipping his lower lip. As he did so he pulled his finger almost all the way out and then shoved it back in along with a second one.

Desmond let out a half pained groan, eyes closing automatically. "Not," he started, twitching when the fingers scissored apart. "Not a fucking possession. Bastard." Even as he said that Altair shoved a third finger inside of him without warning. "Ah! You-"

"Do not play games with me boy." Altair's voice was level and deadly and right in his ear. "You are mine." He spread the three fingers apart once before pushing them in up to the third knuckle. "I chased you down and captured you," he briefly bit the back of the younger man's ear earning a moan, "you are bound and at my mercy, to do with as I please. Unconnectedly you are," his fingers gave another sharp push, "mine."

Desmond nearly whimpered as the fingers inside him twisted again, crooking and thrusting and- "Bastard."

Altair chuckled. "Concede Desmond." He purred and pressed a chaste, sweet kiss to the younger man's cheek. "I promise to be good to you."

Desmond let out a disbelieving snort that turned into a grunt as Altair pressed just there. "F-Fine. I'm yours, possessive ass."

Altair hummed contentedly and finally slid his fingers free. He sat back on his knees and once more picked up the vial of oil, his other hand pulling down his trousers. "Good boy." He murmured as he poured some of the oil onto his cock. The assassin then set the bottle down and wrapped his hand around himself, stroking just enough to spread the oil.

When he was sure he was ready he released himself and gripped the younger assassin's hips, thumbs spreading his cheeks apart. "Are you ready?" He questioned, the head of his cock sliding against his descendants rim.

Desmond hissed and rocked back a bit, trying to encourage Altair to just- "Fuck, I'm ready. Just go already."

Altair chuckled and his grip tightened and pushed. Beneath him, Desmond grunted and he smoothed his thumb in a soothing circle. His eyes were glued to where they were slowly fitting together, watching as his cock disappeared inside of Desmond until his hips fit snuggly against the younger assassin's backside. Desmond groaned and Altair let out a shaky breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "Desmond," he breathed.

This time it was Desmond's turn to chuckle, it was a breathy, strained sound. "Knew you'd be moaning my name."

Altair huffed, amused despite himself and reached under his descendant, gripping his length at the same time he rocked his hips inside of him. Desmond let out a soft keening moan and Altair bent to murmur in his ear. "Are you so sure that it will not be you moaning my name."

Desmond snickered, the sound cut off into a moan as Altair pulled halfway out and rocked back in. "I love a challenge." The American admitted with a sharp, flushed grin.

"I'm aware." Altair groaned, burying his face into the back of Desmond's neck as he began to thrust in earnest. Desmond released quiet moans that sounded almost punched out of him with every hit or brush to his prostate and Altair stifled any sounds he may have been making into his descendants skin. Several times his teeth clamped down hard on the American's neck causing Desmond's moans to arch in volume sharply.

"Hey! What are you doing up here!" An angry voice cut into their activities and Altair's hips stuttered to a halt as Desmond pointedly smacked his forehead against the roof.

"Are you serious?" Desmond sounded half incredulous and half annoyed. Altair could sympathize.

"Get down from he-agh!" The guard was cut off by a knife burying itself in his throat and Desmond looked back at Altair whose hand was dropping back down to Desmond's hip.

The older assassin's hips began to pick up their rhythm from where they left off before Desmond could make a smart ass comment. "Fuck," he grunted, "I probably," a gasp, "god, probably shouldn't find that as hot as I do." He admitted. A stuttered moan left his lips as Altair wrapped his callused fingers around his cock and began to stroke him in a half hazard rhythm. "A-Altair."

"Shut up," Altair commanded sounding strained, "and come." And as the Arabic assassin gave his erection a particularly insistent tug Desmond was helpless to do anything but obey. It was with a throaty, "Good boy," that Altair came seconds later.

They lay there for a moment, panting on the rooftop, still joined together at the hips before Altair pulled out. His hand quickly tugged off the red strip of cloth he'd used to bind his descendant and Desmond groaned as he say up, working feeling back into his wrists. "You really don't show any mercy do you?" Desmond questioned sounding satisfied and amused. Altair's only reply was a quiet hum and Desmond laughed.

Reaching over, the American snatched the cloth from Altair's grasp. His ancestor let it go with a raised eyebrow. "You know," he commented, turning the cloth about in his hands, "I don't really mind you calling me yours." He shot Altair a sly grin as he said this and leaned over to wrap the cloth about his ancestor's throat. Lips quirking, Altair allowed Desmond to tug him closer by the red cloth until their lips were mere centimeters apart. "So long as you don't mind being mine as well?"

Lips turning up into a smile, Altair closed the distance between their mouths. "Agreed." He muttered against the younger's lips. Desmond yelped into the kiss as Altair's hands found the hems of his pants, pulling them back up around his waist in one deft motion.

"What the hell, warn a guy!" Desmond snapped, doing up the zipper and button himself as Altair fixed his own clothing and stood.

"I'll consider it." Altair snarled back, running his hand through Desmond's hair affectionately as he walked past him. Desmond rolled his eyes as he hopped to his feet and followed after him. He caught up to the Arab at the edge of the roof and gripped the collar of his shirt. Altair allowed the action, almost seemed to expect it, and turned to meet the kiss Desmond offered.

"You're an ass." Desmond muttered into Altair's lips. Altair's answering grin spoke for itself.