Disclaimer: I still don't own AC or Altair.
AN: For those of you waiting for an update for Breaking and Entering, fear not! now that this is out of my head, I should resume work on that fiction. Thanks to everyone's reviews I think I've now got the next part figured out.
WARNING! This chapter contains a lemon.
Lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes.
–Marquis de Sade
Dawn, the morning after Al Mualim's death.
Nothing stirred in the predawn stillness as the line of gray defining the horizon slowly brightened, chasing away the darkness of night. An indistinguishable statue perched on the upper recesses of the Assassin's stronghold above Masyaf, Niari did not move either, save for her perceptive gray eyes, having already held her position for nearly an hour. This was a frequent pastime of hers, to swing out her window early in the morning and climb to the top of the towering fortress, facing east to greet the rising sun, letting the light spill over her and watching as it picked out shapes on the ground in stark relief. It was a habit she enjoyed, both because the gray skies of early morning was her favorite time of day and because she relished in her physical prowess as she scaled the outside of the bastion, fingers deftly finding holds in the spaces between the bricks. It had taken her long years of training to accomplish the feat, and she was proud of it. To her, it was representative of the strength she had gained since joining the Assassins.
A strength that had been the only thing to see her through the past day. It was true that the Creed had never been rocked to its core so thoroughly before. Of course, leaders had been killed before—the Creed trained men how to kill; it was only natural that at some point someone ambitious would use those skills for his own gain. But she had never thought to see it in her lifetime, and she had never thought that Al Mualim's steady and comforting presence could prove to be so horribly wrong. She was fortunate—she had not been in Masyaf yesterday morning, having left on a mission in Jerusalem two days prior. She had returned to Masyaf with Malik and his companions when he had caught wind of the disturbance and come to offer assistance—though how exactly Malik had learned about the events at Masyaf, she did not know.
Niari still wasn't entirely sure what had happened in the battle between Altair and Al Mualim. Of course, the man had betrayed them all by working for the Templars, and Altair had slain him, as was expected when one so thoroughly broke the Oath. But all of this business with the 'Piece of Eden'… Something about that relic, a simple ball that could have such an effect on people's minds… She was repulsed by the object. Altair had taken it and stored it away somewhere safe, she knew that. She wasn't sure if she wanted such a thing to continue to exist, but Altair valued freedom over nearly anything else, and he had been as repulsed as she was. Arrogant Altair might be, but she trusted him not to make Al Mualim's mistakes. He was the natural one to take over the mantle of Mentor now that Al Mualim was gone; he had led them through this disaster and even before that many of the other Assassins were used to following his orders. She did not envy him his current position one bit. He now had an unruly and chaotic Order to control and convince to follow him.
The gray had lightened considerably now, and the slightest tinges of other colors—pink and gold—were present now. She let her gaze drop from the sunrise to the sprawling city below as the inhabitants began to rise. Only her eyes moved, however, her balance not so much as shifting. Being inconspicuous—that was something Niari had succeeded at her entire life.
Because she couldn't deny that she had lusted after Altair for many, many years, the same way she had lusted after many men, although he presented a challenge that certainly captivated her a bit more than the others did. He had always made it clear to her, when he had even noticed her at all, which was only in the past two years or so, as her own status within the Order had grown, that her 'whorish' activities were repugnant to him, and his insults had not made staying in his presence very rewarding—not that Niari did not have a thick skin, but that didn't mean she subjected herself to insults. Besides, there were other Assassins who were very grateful for her presence, and she was never lacking for bed partners as equally as lust worthy as Altair. His subtly changing attitude over the past few weeks had made her wary, and that was why she had not taken what had seemed like an invitation in his room while recovering from his fever, because for the first time in years Niari did not understand Altair Ibn La-Ahad. Her power lay in knowledge. Her job, her most valuable asset, lay in reading men, understanding their wants and needs and how to use them to get what she wanted, and she had seen Altair's kind many times before.
Dammit, she should have fucked him a week ago, when she had the chance, and to hell with the consequences! At least then she would have the memories to dwell on, or better, something to gloat over him, to make him another of her conquests. Now…
Now, there had been a change in power, and for her to enter his bed could seem to the others to be an attempt to gain favor from the new leader of the Creed. For the first time in a very, very long time, the recent events had thrown Niari's emotions into an uproar. Perhaps she was fixating on Altair at the moment as some sort of savior, a rock in a storm, the one unchanging constant? Her mind seemed numb. She didn't know, but she guessed it would be some weeks before everything went back to normal. No, that was wrong; things would never be back to normal. A new normal, maybe, but one did not learn about a power such as the Apple and then not have their entire worldview shaken. No wonder she had not slept well the night before, lying in a strange doze filled with whirling dreams.
The first rays of the sun suddenly and gently spilled over the horizon, and Niari narrowed her eyes to a squint. She remained there for several more minutes, watching the golden light spread across the landscape before her, fairly chasing the darkness into a few stark shadows, and the silence of the dawn finally broke with an eagle's cry. Then she unfolded herself nimbly from her position and swung herself off the roof, climbing the walls back down to her window.
Unfortunately, the dawn had not been as calming as it normally was—that might be expected though, as yesterday's events were anything but normal. As such, she remained distracted as her sure feet found her window sill and she crouched and slid inside, and so she didn't notice the silent dark shadow standing near the door until she had taken two steps into the room. She froze as her eyes landed on Altair.
The taller Assassin stood near the door to her room, though it was closed. He had changed in the dark robes of mentor already, she noted. She was annoyed to find the private sanctum of her room breached, but she kept the tension out of her shoulders and face, presenting him with a calm and curious but wary façade. There was a strange tension in his shoulders, and he was not taking his gaze off of her, though she could not see what sort of expression lay on his face due to the darkness in his hood.
"Altair," she greeted nonchalantly, and continued across her room towards the lone table, as she had intended upon stepping off the sill, pushing her hood back as she went. He moved forward as well, closing the distance between them—stalking towards her, she realized quite suddenly, and she froze, her next sentence dying on her lips as she tried to discern his intention behind his threatening manner. "Altair," she said again, this time a warning as she took two steps back, and this time she could see a smirk under his hood. Anger blossomed in her chest, and she straightened her shoulders and stopped her retreat, reaching to her back to grasp the hilt of her short blade.
He moved faster than she did. As she was still braced for his next move, not wanting to strike but unafraid to defend herself, he closed the distance between them with a sudden leap, immediately twisting and shoving her up against the wall, holding her there with his stronger body. She managed to unsheathe her blade but had no time to attempt to dissuade him with it before he gripped her wrist and twisted until she dropped the hilt, and the blade clattered to the stone floor. Niari took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down, despite the shiver sent down her spine as she felt his hard body against her own. The intense look in his eyes was unnerving, as always, and she turned her face away to stare over his shoulder, trying to think of a way to break his hold on her—and nothing came to mind. The man was much stronger than her. For now she would have to play his game. He clearly did not intend to kill her, or he would not have even let her see him in the room.
Altair was pleased. He had Niari off-balance for perhaps the first time. The wary look on her face—true respect, true fear of him, also for the first time—was quite enough to get his blood hot, but now, feeling her body pressed against him so that the loose robes could no longer hide her shapely woman's curves, he knew he was going to enjoy this encounter. But he wanted it to last as long as possible, now that he had control of the situation, the upper hand. Sex was only half the fun. Toying with her was the other. He did not just want to take, although he would, but he wanted to wear down her reserve, to make her choose to be with him, make her want it, make her commit. Defiance was the challenge Niari presented Altair, and he was going to strip it from her.
The woman was still fast on her feet—figuratively speaking, of course. "Do you normally disrupt the privacy of your acquaintances?" she asked, but though her voice was steady, her eyes only glanced at his face before flicking away again. His smirk widened infinitesimally into a small smile, and he was pleased with the small bit of worry that flitted across her face.
"As I recall," he started, voice quieter than normally due to their nearness, "someone was very vocal as to her opinion of my stamina not very long ago. I'd very much like to have that opinion disproven."
Niari felt her breath catch. A part of her had begun to suspect his intention may be such, and quivered with excitement, but she held that part deep inside her. She knew Altair; he always had several motives for everything he did, and she would discover them all or damn it all, her training had all been for naught. Although part of her was remembering her lament not long ago on the rooftop for not having him when she could, and she certainly wanted him more now that she could feel how nice his body felt against hers, her mind remained in control.
The war between body and intellect was one she had won long ago, when an assassination depended on a clear mind no matter what was sheathed between her legs. His breath on her cheek and neck and the rumble from his chest as he spoke caused her gut to tighten, but she fought down her ardor, as much as she didn't want to. And why should she? Perhaps she could have a bit of entertainment from this too, then. How fun it would be to see the great Altair Ibn-La'Ahad fall to seduction, like any normal man?
Instead, she forced a smile on her face. "Did I damage your pride, then? Odd. I didn't know you cared so about the blade between your legs. In fact, I thought perhaps you practiced with your steel so much to make up for the fact that you lacked the equipment with which to fuck someone."
Absolute fury filled Altair at her insolence, and the triumphant smile she wore with it. He hissed curses at her through his teeth and pushed her harder into the wall, wedging a knee between her thighs, the motion serving to prove to her that his natural manhood did indeed exist, the hardness and heat felt clearly through both of their trousers. The woman grunted, as her shoulders and spine ground painfully into the walls, her smile dissolving as he pressed his forehead against hers, as she concentrated to hide her lust for him. "I assure you," he said, slowly, deliberately, "I do in fact possess the means to fuck you, and I am going to show you exactly how I like to do it."
"You forget," she retorted just as strongly, "that I only bed the men I choose. I would not make such a claim if I did not truly possess the means to resist when under pressure."
Instead of further anger, as she expected, however, his smirk returned. "Oh, I have not forgotten, dear Niari. I fully intend to make you beg for me." And he crashed his lips down on hers before she could fully comprehend his meaning or that the way his forehead pressed the back of her head against the wall prevented her from turning to avoid him.
Despite her words meant to spite him, Niari had never doubted that a man of Altair's age, attractiveness, and confidence had enjoyed the companionship of many women over his lifetime, and the commanding way he kissed confirmed it. There was little passion in their embrace; that hardly surprised her, this was Altair after all. His kiss was hard and rough, straightforward with little finesse. He pressed down on her mouth almost painfully, relentless, dominating, and completely in control, and it sent a shiver down her spine. When a woman was as strong as she, and normally courted drunkards, it was rare to find a man that took charge, and she found herself growing wet after only a few moments.
Altair was completely in control of their kiss, and he was as deft with his mouth as with his hidden blade. He muscled her mouth open, his tongue immediately sweeping into hers in a thorough investigation. His sheer strength, his sheer masculinity, was an incredible turn on for her, Niari discovered. Despite his roughness and the pain from her shoulders and head where they met the wall, she was immensely enjoying his kiss.
But. She was not about to just give into him, to become another conquest. She understood now. She presented a challenge to him, and Altair had been trained to overcome challenges his entire life. They fuelled his passion. The women he normally took were completely dazzled by his attractive body and his confident, compelling demeanor, and were so pleased to have his attention that they did whatever he wanted. He'd never had a woman trained as an Assassin as himself, one just as confident and used to being in control as himself, but instead of shying away from the fire, Altair's natural aggression demanded that he control it.
Niari could not deny she was incredibly aroused by Altair. But her pride demanded that she not be used and tossed aside, but hold her own. With that thought in mind, she closed her teeth on his invading tongue.
She did not draw blood, as his reactions were still sharp and fast and he darted out of reach before she did much damage with something akin to a growl, and she felt a thrill of satisfaction. It was very short lived, however, as he glared at her and then ducked his head again, and her breath caught as his lips caught her earlobe, followed quickly by his teeth, grazing across her sensitive skin.
Her head was beginning to get foggy, but she had worked under these conditions before. She could not let him win, even though she really wanted to fuck him right now. So be it, why not? But if she was going down, then she was going to make sure he wanted her just as badly, and that was something else she had ample practice in doing.
Using all of her flexibility, she slipped a hand between their bodies, sliding down in order to press against his trousers, rubbing her palm against his erection and closing her fingers around as much as she could reach. She was rewarded almost immediately—the man jerked in such a way that he pressed himself against her hand, and she almost thought she heard him moan, but it was eclipsed as he dropped his mouth lower suddenly and nipped hard at her neck, dragging her skin through his teeth. At the same time, the leg between her own thighs pressed up harder her, rubbing her most sensitive spot, and she couldn't resist a shudder.
Without removing his body or mouth from being pressed against hers, his hands began to undo the catches of her robes. Her hood was already thrown back, but he worked to loosen the laces and reveal more of her neck to his mouth. His lips and teeth seared a line down her skin to the divot at the base of her throat as it was revealed. She was certain he was going to leave bruises but she did not care. Her own hands began to mimic him, unwilling to be outdone, pushing his hood off his head and deftly unlacing the front of his tunic until she could slip her hands inside and trace the planes of his chest, muscles rippling beneath his tanned skin.
Turning her head, she dragged her own teeth down his neck, nipping at the flexing tendons. She felt him shift and his hands left her body, and a moment later his vanguards—including his hidden blade—clattered to the floor. Niari wasted no time sliding his tunic open wider and then off his broad shoulders, leaving him bare to the waist. Her mouth followed along his collar bone, and she felt her breath coming faster as her fingers explored the corded muscles down his back and sides. Altair's body was magnificent.
The taller Assassin had opened her own tunic to the waist, and suddenly pulled her arms away from him, growling quietly in frustration as he began tugging on one of her vanguards. Niari pulled the hand away from him impatiently and unbuckled the leather herself, letting hers fall to the floor beside his. Altair grunted in satisfaction at the sound and immediately yanked her tunic off her shoulders and stripped it from her body, leaving her only in the makeshift brassiere of linen strips she wrapped around herself to provide support. His mouth fastened onto hers again, pressing her hard against the stone while his hands explored her brassiere with jerky movements born of frustration, until he finally managed to find the knot that held it and dragged the offending material from her, exposing her breasts.
Immediately his mouth left hers and she gasped as his lips closed over her left nipple, arching her back into him, incredibly pleased to have a skilled lover. His tongue danced over her skin, tracing circles around her pert flesh before his teeth nipped her and she groaned, head thrown back. Without wasting a moment, Altair slid his mouth across her skin to find her other pink nipple and suck it into his mouth, his tongue artfully teasing her again before his teeth tugged on her nipple.
His mouth still fastened to her breast, his hands skimmed down her ribs, enjoying the smooth, soft skin and the curve of her slender waist, to stroke her hips, and the feel of his rough hands on the sensitive skin there sent shivers down her spine. In one smooth movement he undid the clasp of her trousers almost before she realized what he was tugging on and yanked the white fabric and her undergarments down her legs, revealing more smooth, toned skin to the calluses on his fingers. Without anything holding them up her trousers fell to the floor and she stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. The taller Assassin's hands were on her immediately, running down and tracing her thighs and then she gasped as one slipped between her bare thighs.
Altair paused his ministrations on her breast, leaning his head back in order to watch her face as he worked. He had greatly enjoyed stripping her clothes from her, revealing her to him piece by piece, and she wanted him badly now. She was still pinned against the wall, head thrown back in a way that pressed her breasts up, and her eyes were half lidded as he ran a finger over her folds. He felt a triumphant smirk spread across his face as she quivered in front of him, completely at his mercy. He enjoyed this more with every passing moment. He was pleased to find her already soaking wet from his previous attention to the rest of her body. Her stroked her silkiness slowly, teasing his finger back and forth. Niari groaned and thrust her hips against his hand, but he pulled back as she did so, denying her. With a cry of despair she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his forehead against hers, one hand running through his hair and the other digging her nails into his muscular shoulders. "Altair," she moaned his name breathlessly.
Niari's body was exquisite, tanned and slender. In truth she had too many scars and muscle compared to his normal taste in women, but at the moment he hardly cared, his member throbbing painfully behind his trousers. Their eyes met as he found the heat at the juncture of her long legs and he explored her wetness, causing her body to quiver in pleasure. He leaned forward, mouth near her ear. "Beg," he ordered simply, voice deep, and she shivered. She wanted, very, very badly, to do as he said, and feel his fingers moving against her again. But that little word, and all it's connotations and the defeat it would symbolize, revolted her.
Niari was in heaven, but she refused to let Altair have all the fun. Through the haze of lust she managed to slid her hands down his body to his belt, nimbly undoing the leather holding his sword to his hip—had that stayed on so long?—and sending that to join the disarray of articles on the floor, and then she opened his trousers and slipped a hand inside, immediately meeting his hard flesh and firmly closing her fingers around him. To her joy, Altair actually froze and then groaned against her neck , nipping forcefully at her skin, and he pushed against her. Niari deftly stroked his length and felt him shudder, and he couldn't wait any longer. He needed release, now, and nothing was blocking him anymore. He kicked his trousers off hurriedly, and Niari's hands slid down, exploring his hips and closing on his manhood again.
Suddenly his hands moved to the backs of her thighs and he lifted her roughly, sliding her up the hard stone wall, holding her up with his own hips and then forcefully pulling her legs around his waist. She gasped as she felt his manhood pressing against her heat. Altair leaned into her, his tip teasing them both as he pushed against her heat. Unwilling to go slow, Niari rolled her hips and thrust herself onto him, prompting a groan from them both as he stretched and filled her. He was surprised at her eagerness and angry at himself that she had managed to gain the upper hand, however briefly. Altair refused to let her set the pace, his strong hands settling firmly on her hips, fingers digging in to keep her still and give him leverage.
Now that he was sheathed inside her he wasn't able to hold back, and he began thrusting into her in earnest. His strength would have shoved her up the wall had he not held her in place. Her nails dug into his back, needing something to anchor herself among the tide of need coursing through her, and pulled his forehead against hers, lips parted as they both panting, breath mixing. He filled her fully, stretching her pleasurably, and every movement hit a place deep inside her that was quickly unraveling any sense of their surroundings, obliterating every thought but the man grunting against her. She arched her back, throwing her head back as his movements tore a strangled cry from her throat. Within moments both of them were panting hard, straining towards the pleasure they could feel spreading from the slick friction as he thrust into her. The rhythm increased to a desperate tempo.
Altair could feel release building at the base of his spine, the heat from their union spreading and growing to consume him. His throbbing length, buried deep in her, was aching for release, and he didn't plan on denying that instinct. He no longer remembered the real reason he had come here; his attention was completely focused on the feelings coursing through him and the woman against him from which they stemmed. Bending down, he kissed her roughly again, but it was short-lived as they were both breathing hard. Frantic for release, Altair thrust into her harder, the way she writhed under him and groaned encouragement making his head spin. Her inner muscles jerked and clenched around him as she arched her back, and the sensations sent him over the edge.
The tangled Assassins came together, crying out unintelligibly as their bodies climaxed, shuddering uncontrollably as their orgasms rolled through them. Altair collapsed against her, letting the wall hold them up, hands releasing her hips and coming forward to catch himself against the wall. Her body suddenly boneless, Niari relaxed against him, head on on his shoulder. Both of them were still gasping for breath, dripping in sweat and still shaking slightly. Leaning down, he kissed her neck, tasting the sweat on her skin. Niari's arms came up slowly, tracing over the planes of his back, still enjoying the feeling of the hot body pressed against her, at seeing the man under the hood. She had lusted after this man for so long, hoping the having him just once would satisfy her longing; now that she knew what being with him was like she wanted him even more.
After another moment the man pulled back, carefully pulling himself out of her, and set her on her feet, hands still resting on her waist. Their bodies disconnected smoothly, and her breath hitched as she suddenly felt empty. In truth, the Assassin was far more spent and satisfied than he had been in quite a while, not that he was about to tell the woman next to him that. Now that the lust was clearing from his mind, he remembered the real reason he had come, . The fact that she had not given into him was not lost on him and he was terribly angry at himself for failing. Eyes narrowed, the taller Assassin glared down at her. Her hands still on his shoulders, Niari returned the look just as fiercely.
"Do you ever do as you're told?" he demanded angrily, voice gravelly.
"Do you always have to be in charge?" she retorted back quickly, not giving in an inch. They still stood on even ground.
His fingers tightened on her waist. "This isn't over," he said quietly in what he undoubtedly believed was a threatening tone, but it only made her smirk. She knew Altair. The fact that she had made him want her and lose control hung unspoken in the air between them. Finally, he released her and turned away to find his clothes, and she reached down to retrieve her trousers from near her feet, both of them knowing that nothing had changed.
~The thrill of the kill
You feel is a sin
I lay with the wolves
Alone, it seems,
I thought I was part of you~
AN: Italized lyrics are from the song 'She-Wolf' by David Guetta featuring Sia. Not sure about the song lyrics, just trying something new. Hope you enjoyed, please review! I would love suggestions for how to improve. Even though it's a one-shot and marked as complete, I could probably find a way to continue if anyone wants some more. ;) Let me know!