Chapter Text
Desmond didn’t necessarily like to talk about his past.
To be perfectly honest, he’d prefer to not even remember it.
But it clung to him.
No matter how far he ran away, he could not let go of it even if he wanted to.
He could still hear his father’s voice, calling his name.
“Desmond…”
The very sound of his name brought him such fear that he would always freeze.
His hands would begin to tremble and his lips would begin to quiver.
Their god was one that reveled in pain.
From pain would god’s salvation be given.
That was what his father’s teachings were.
When Desmond ran away, he learned that he had lived his entire life in a cult.
And it had been hard.
Learning how to live like a normal person.
No.
Learning how to be human.
But he like to think that he was getting the hang of it.
Working as a bartender helped.
It was the kind of job that forced him to pay attention and to remember everyone and how they act.
To understand what they liked and what they didn’t like.
There was a curve-ball he had to contend with when he started out but he liked to believe that he was doing okay.
His coworkers thought he was weird though but that was to be expected, to be completely honest.
While he wasn’t working from scratch, he knew that his odd upbringing made him weird and his coworkers saw it when he was just starting out. His boss saw it as well but he had thought that Desmond’s pretty face was enough reason to hire Desmond.
He was sure the fact that he was okay with being paid lower than the average wage bartenders should receive also had a hand in his hiring.
But Desmond had been desperate and his boss didn’t push for too much information of where Desmond currently living and he was fine with paying Desmond cash.
Desmond had been living in a condemned building back then and he had to stay there for a few more months until he got the hang of how to actually make use of his pretty face.
He learned quickly, a feat that he had since he was young thanks to…
No.
It wasn’t right to say ‘thanks to’.
… He learned quickly because he grew up knowing that learning quickly and doing the job well at first go were the best way to not incur his father’s disappointment.
His father’s disappointment meant pain and Desmond was a regular tribute for their weekly offerings to their god.
So Desmond was a quick learner and he was observant. With just a few weeks, he could mimic the other bartenders’ personalities to suit his need.
A few months later, he was raking enough tips each shift that he could rent out a small apartment in a seedy part of the city.
It was perhaps dangerous but it wasn’t like Desmond had anything worth stealing and he kept to himself, always wearing a hoodie to hide his face.
Not only that, his shift started at 5 PM and ended at 6 AM so, by the time he was walking back to his apartment, it would be too risky to try and mug him anyway.
He led a quiet life and Desmond knew that it was a lonely life as well.
But…
Compared to the time he had been surrounded by his father’s cult…
The isolation was a welcome change…
Or so he thought.
Desmond first noticed him because of his order.
Old-fashioned.
Nothing else.
He would nurse that glass quietly all night and Desmond never heard any other orders from him nor did he ever see him talk to anybody else.
Anyone who tried to approach him were deterred by his glare.
He made no small talk and he would leave just as the bar was about to close, leaving behind a hundred dollar tip.
His drink cost less than that but Desmond couldn’t really say anything about it, quickly pocketing the tip before anyone could see it.
The employees of the bar all agreed that they get the tip given to them. The term sharing meant nothing at all to any of them.
But Desmond knew that such a large tip would have gotten everyone’s attention.
And, as far as everyone was concern, the man was a weird businessman who probably needed to feel sorry for himself once a week. The other bartenders were just glad he always sit on Desmond’s side of the bar.
And nobody bothered to ask Desmond what was up with that man.
Still…
It was only a matter of time before Desmond’s curiosity would get the better of him.
The man always paid in cash and always wore a suit.
He always came at 9 PM and order an old-fashioned.
His voice held an accent that Desmond couldn’t place and he had the same scar on the right side of his lips like Desmond.
He wondered where he got his scar but he didn’t dare ask.
All he could do was continue to smile and welcome him back.
He didn’t even tried to ever ask “Old-fashioned, right?” in fear that the man would not appreciate it and would even leave if Desmond tried to make small talks. It seemed like he didn’t like to talk to people if the numerous attempts of trying to chat with him by the other customers were any indication.
At least… he was good-looking and a familiar face that stayed in Desmond’s side every time. Other than the fact that Desmond absolutely appreciated the huge tip he always gave, he was also a comforting presence. He might not know it but Desmond appreciated him being there, keeping one seat occupied meant that Desmond didn’t have to keep tabs on another person and keep his facade up in front of that person.
The first time they talked had been…
Desmond would like to say a coincidence, to be honest.
He had finished his shift and had just stepped outside of the bar when he saw him standing there, glaring at the sky.
Desmond turned to look at the sky and…
Well, okay.
He could understand why he was just standing there.
It was pouring hard and he didn’t look like he had any umbrella or rain coat with him at the moment. That suit jacket must be too expensive to be drenched in rainwater.
Maybe?
Desmond stepped towards the man and asked, “If you’re okay with it, we can share an umbrella and I’ll take you to your car?”
He turned to look at Desmond with those strange dark brown eyes as he asked, “Shouldn’t you be more concerned that I’ll be driving?”
Desmond blinked, having not expected that question.
Still, his lips curved into an easy smile as he answered, “I like to think it takes more than a glass to get you drunk.”
The man stared at Desmond for a moment before he nodded as he said, “Yes, I suppose so.”
A strange answer but, for some reason, it suited him.
Desmond showed him his umbrella and raised an eyebrow. The man nodded as he said, “I’d appreciate it. My car’s that black one over there.”
Desmond looked at where he was pointing and saw the car. Desmond wasn’t really all that knowledgeable about cars, more of a motorcycle guy himself and all he could describe the car was that it looked… plain?
It looked a lot like all the other black cars Desmond had seen around the city. If he was asked to point it out from a line-up, he wouldn’t have been able to give an accurate guess at all.
“Okay then. Get closer.” Desmond said cheerfully as he opened the umbrella. The man took a step towards him and Desmond had to raise an eyebrow once more as he commented, “You’ll have to get closer than that if you don’t want to get wet.”
The man stared at him for a moment before he stepped closer, their shoulders bumping slightly. Desmond lifted the umbrella between them and began to walk towards the car.
The sound of the rain hitting his umbrella was a familiar sound yet it sounded weak against the loud beating of Desmond’s heart.
His cheeks were reddening and he didn’t understand why.
It wasn’t like this was the first time he had been close to another person.
He knew he was attracted to the man next to him and Desmond wasn’t new to such feelings.
Yet…
This close…
He could feel his warmth.
He could smell his aftershave.
And…
He could feel his eyes on him.
He felt watched and…
There was a heat that seemed to be swirling in Desmond’s stomach, slowly seeping to the rest of his body.
He didn’t know why he was feeling like this.
There was something about this man that made him feel… something he could not explain at all.
The walk to the man’s car had been too long but also too short for Desmond. A part of him had wished it had ended sooner for he could not handle the loud beating of his heart. But a bigger part of him wished that time had stood still for that moment as the both of them stayed in the safety of his umbrella.
He waited as the man unlocked his car but before he opened it, he turned to look at Desmond as he asked, “Where do you live?”
Desmond knew he shouldn’t.
He didn’t know this man.
Hell. He didn’t even know his name, for god’s sake.
But…
He couldn’t stop the words that escaped his lips.
His real address.
Something not even his boss knew about.
“Get in. I’ll take you home.” The man ordered and Desmond’s heart skipped a beat at the way he spoke. He wouldn’t be able to say no even if he had wanted to.
And the strangest part was that Desmond didn’t even want to.
“As a thank you for letting me use your umbrella.” The man said before he entered the car. Desmond stood there for a moment before he walked towards the passenger’s seat, opening the door.
The car was cool but it was the kind of cool that Desmond enjoyed. He closed his umbrella but stopped before he could take it inside.
Seemingly understanding his hesitance to take a wet umbrella inside, the man said, “It’s fine.”
Desmond nodded and took the umbrella inside the car before closing it. He watched the man as he drove them off the parking lot.
Unable to stop himself, he said, “Desmond.”
The man glanced at him before focusing on the road as he replied, “Altaïr.”
Altaïr…
Desmond had a feeling he’d never forget his name.
Nothing much change after that.
Altaïr drove him to his apartment and waited until Desmond was inside before driving away.
Come next Wednesday, he came to the bar once more and, this time, Desmond greeted him with a smile as he placed the Old-fashioned he had been preparing the moment he saw Altaïr enter the bar. Altaïr gave him a quiet ‘Thank you’ and Desmond’s smile brightened just a bit.
They didn’t talk and Altaïr still stayed until it was closing time, nursing his one glass of Old-fashioned and leaving a hundred dollar tip for Desmond to quickly snatch and hide away.
It went for months…
Until…
They met once more as another downpour stopped Altaïr from going to his car.
This time, Desmond simply showed Altaïr his umbrella and smiled at him.
His heart skipped a beat when Altaïr’s lips curved into a small smile as he nodded.
This time, Desmond didn’t hesitate in entering Altaïr’s car.
This time…
Desmond didn’t come home to his empty apartment.
The morning after, Desmond woke up in Altaïr’s bed, warm with an aching body that he welcomed.
Altaïr was in bed with him, sitting up as he held a sketchbook and a pencil in his hands. He placed both of them aside and leaned closer to capture Desmond’s lips.
And Desmond sighed as he felt Altaïr’s hand on his hip.
That morning, Desmond stayed far longer than he usually did with any of his previous sexual encounters.
Had Altaïr ordered him, he wouldn’t have found the strength to leave.
He left with a pleasant ache in his body and Altaïr’s number saved in his phone.
Altaïr only visited on Wednesday before but, after that rainy night…
He didn’t come to the bar any longer.
But every end of Desmond’s shift, Altaïr’s car would be waiting in the bar’s parking lot and Desmond would always get inside.
Altaïr worked for a tech company as a head researcher for one of their research and development teams. Desmond didn’t really understand Altaïr’s explanation as he used a lot of technical terms and jargon that flew over Desmond’s mind. All he knew was that Altaïr was super smart and he was also a workaholic. His day offs were supposed to be Saturday and Sunday but he regularly ignored it. Their company had a mandatory no-overwork Wednesday and his boss would nag him and stay to annoy him until he actually leaves, bemoaning how Altaïr staying meant he couldn’t come home to his wife and two children yet.
He had come to the bar Desmond worked in because he had been a bit annoyed by his boss’ actions but he didn’t have any alcohol in his home so he thought he’d just drink a glass before leaving.
Then…
“You smiled at me.”
Those simple words made Desmond’s cheeks red. He felt a vulnerability in Altaïr’s voice as he admitted he kept going to the bar because he wanted to see Desmond’s smile.
Desmond knew that Altaïr realized that it hadn’t been a genuine smile.
That it was just the smile that Desmond used to get tips.
Altaïr simply laughed when he told him that.
… and smiled as he caressed his cheek, “I don’t mind. As long as you smile at me… that’s all that matters.”
And Desmond knew then and there…
That he had fallen for Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.
Altaïr didn’t just work all the time.
He actually had a hobby.
He liked to paint.
It was apparently one of the few subjects he actually enjoyed in boarding school according to him.
And he wasn’t as good as one of his friends but Desmond seriously doubted that.
He had seen his sketches and they were mostly Desmond sleeping but they look… He made Desmond look…
Desmond knew it was him but there was something in the way that Altaïr sketched that seemed to make him look… more.
Desmond didn’t really know how he could explain it.
All he knew was that he wanted to see Altaïr’s paintings.
Altaïr looked a bit hesitant at first but he unlocked the room that held all of his paintings without Desmond even begging.
And most of them were all… incomplete… except for one.
Altaïr told him that he had lost interest in them before he could finish them.
The only painting he finished had been hung on the wall.
It was a painting of figures of light turning into grotesque monsters as they fell into the ground.
It was…
Beautiful.
Everything in Altaïr’s apartment had been pristine and in order but this painting…
It was chaotic.
The colors themselves blending into one another to create a cacophony of browns and black mixed in between vibrant colors.
Desmond didn’t really know much about art but he…
He liked it.
It must have been meant to be horrific but Desmond didn’t feel that.
It felt like…
Freedom.
He must have stared at it for a few minutes in silence before he turned to look at Altaïr and he asked…
“Can you paint me?”
It was a selfish request. Desmond knew that.
But he couldn’t help but request it nonetheless.
And Altaïr agreed.
So Desmond let him pose him any way he wanted.
He let Altaïr take off all of his clothes and wrap a blanket around him.
Made him sit on the only chair in the room where he kept his materials and paintings.
“What expression should I make?”
“Whatever expression you like.”
That wasn’t helpful at all.
Still, Desmond didn’t say that out loud.
Instead…
He watched as Altaïr used some kind of black… Chalk? Charcoal?
Desmond didn’t know the names of the materials Altaïr used. He did know that he was sketching out Desmond’s pose, maybe even his expression.
So he tried to keep his face still.
But…
It was hard.
There was an intensity in Altaïr’s eyes that ignited Desmond’s body.
Especially now that Altaïr didn’t try to hide the true colors of his eyes.
He had explained before that it always unnerved people when they saw Altaïr’s golden eyes. That was why he wore brown contacts.
But Desmond loved his golden eyes.
He loved everything about Altaïr.
He had never felt this way for anyone before.
And he knew that it had just been three months since he had started to warm Altaïr’s bed every single day.
At first, he only stayed on Wednesday… no. Technically, Thursday mornings…
But then… Altaïr started picking him up after every shift even when it wasn’t Wednesday and he kept getting inside.
Kept staying in…
Losing himself in Altaïr’s arms and waking up to the smell of breakfast and coffee…
Until it just seemed natural to pack up and just live with Altaïr.
He knew that they were moving too fast.
Hell, he knew that he was playing a dangerous game living with a man he had only been seeing for three months.
But…
Desmond had never had a place he felt like he could call his home until he started to wake up in Altaïr’s apartment.
And Altaïr didn’t mind it when he would redecorate his place.
It had looked so… pristine before.
So… cold.
The only personal touch Desmond saw was in the bookcases that decorated two of the walls of his home office, filled with so many different books.
Altaïr was an avid reader after all and it showed with the vastness of subjects in that bookcase, from fiction to astrophysics. Desmond knew then that Altaïr liked to hoard knowledge.
And now…
Altaïr had shared to him another side of himself.
He only painted to amuse himself but he was sharing that part to Desmond nonetheless.
And Desmond…
Desmond loved the focus in his eyes.
Like all that mattered in the world was Desmond.
Nothing else existed but Desmond.
The only time he had looked at Desmond liked that was when…
Altaïr’s hand stopped and Desmond knew it was because of the way he was looking at him.
At the way his body had began to heat up…
He couldn’t help himself.
He couldn’t control the way his body reacted to seeing Altaïr focus so much on him.
Altaïr placed down the tool he had been using to sketch and walked towards Desmond. Desmond raised his head just to see Altaïr’s face and closed his eyes when Altaïr captured his lips, making him moan. Their kiss deepened and he felt Altaïr push open the blanket around his shoulders. It fell from his left shoulder but Desmond didn’t care, placing both hands on Altaïr’s cheeks. He could feel Altaïr’s hands all over his body, caressing him, as his breath was taken away from him.
Desmond arched his back and his eyes opened as he felt Altaïr’s hand on his cock. They pulled away just enough for Desmond to rest his forehead against Altaïr’s as moans left his lips while Altaïr began to stroke Desmond.
His breathing grew faster as he saw the dark marks left by Altaïr’s hands all over his body.
They felt like Altaïr had branded him.
And Desmond couldn’t help the sudden desire for Altaïr to truly brand him.
Unfortunately, all he could do was pant, eyes trained on the marks on his skin as Altaïr continued to stroke him hard and fast. His entire body began to tremble when he felt Altaïr’s nail press against his slit. Whatever pain he felt only heightened the pleasure he felt, Altaïr’s other hand holding him steady by keeping a firm grip on his waist. Desmond arched his back and threw his head back when Altaïr’s fingers dug onto the sensitive skin of his waist, making him cum.
His back hit the chair as he began to breath heavily. He had always felt like he was floating after cumming and his body would grow lax. He could barely focus, unable to do anything as Altaïr pulled his pants out just enough to free his aching cock.
“Inside…” Desmond mumbled, wishing to feel Altaïr’s cock in him even in this state.
He knew if Altaïr fucked him right now, he would slip into that wonderful space where he felt so much and not enough. Where nothing else exist but the two of them and the pleasure and pain they share with one another.
“Ssshhh…” Altaïr hushed gently as he kissed Desmond’s forehead, making Desmond’s eyes flutter. He could see Altaïr stroke himself, fast and hard, and Desmond whimper. He could feel his hole ache, wishing to be taken.
He always wished to be taken.
But Altaïr was in control and Desmond would give Altaïr what he wanted because nothing brings him more joy than satisfying Altaïr’s every desire.
Because if he did, he’d be rewarded.
So Desmond would be a good boy and watch with jealous eyes as Altaïr came into his hands.
Another whimper left his lips when Altaïr didn’t even give let him have a taste nor order him to clean him.
Instead, he marred his cum onto Desmond’s skin.
Marking him once more.
A sigh left his lips as he felt Altaïr coat his lips with the remnants of his cum but he didn’t lick it off.
He wasn’t given permission after all.
Altaïr pulled his pants back up as he kissed Desmond’s eyelash.
He walked back to his canvas without bothering to help Desmond make himself look more presentable.
And Desmond didn’t move.
Not because his body felt too heavy.
If he wanted to, he could still move.
But he didn’t want to.
He simply laid there, watching Altaïr as he picked up his brush and…
Began to paint.
Desmond was late for his shift but he didn’t care.
He still had the dark marks and their combined cum in his body but he didn’t mind.
When his shift was over, Altaïr took him home and fucked him in their bed until he couldn’t move. He saw the way Altaïr’s eyes darkened when he saw the marks on his body, the way his thrust became wilder when Desmond begged him to mark him more.
When he woke up, his body held the light marks of Altaïr’s fingers in his skin. They would disappear soon enough, maybe in a few hours, a day at most.
Oh, how Desmond wished they would stay forever.
And then… when Altaïr came home during his lunch break so they could have lunch together, he showed him the painting he made after they had their lunch.
A painting that he had finished yesterday after work, while waiting for Desmond’s shift to be over.
It was a painting of Desmond lying on a throne, golden wings folded where the blanket that was meant to hide his modesty should have been. Instead, darkness enveloped his lower half, like hundred shadowy hands were touching him.
Dark tendrils slithering towards the places where Altaïr’s marks and their cum had been.
The dark background and the fallen crown cast a dark atmosphere yet…
The expression on Desmond’s face in the painting…
… was one of euphoria.
And Desmond couldn’t help but moan loudly while Altaïr fucked him from behind as he stared at the expression on the painting’s face.
Knowing that he would have the same expression soon enough.
That painting seemed to have opened a floodgate that Desmond didn’t even know existed.
No.
That wasn’t exactly correct.
He knew there was a darkness in Altaïr’s eyes that he had been hiding all this time.
It was just… Desmond didn’t mind it.
He knew of its existence so it wasn’t like he was ignoring it but he also didn’t push Altaïr to tell him the truth.
Desmond believed that everyone has a darkness inside them that they wished to hide.
Desmond’s darkness was the dark thoughts he held ever since he was young. Those dark desires that he always tried to snuff out whenever he was in the presence of his father and his ‘congregation’. Now, they would come and go whenever something reminded him of his past.
Like an ache from an old wound that didn’t heal correctly.
He knew he couldn’t share that darkness with anyone so he never tried to push others to share their darkness with him.
With Altaïr though…
It always felt like his darkness was… alluring.
The brief moments were his face would darken and his eyes would grow cold.
Desmond knew a part of the allure he felt was because Altaïr never aimed such coldness to him.
Altaïr had always been kind and gentle to him.
It was only when they would engage in sexual activities that Altaïr would treat him roughly.
And even then… Desmond could feel a gentleness to his touch.
Even as he fucked him hard enough that the headboard would smack against the wall or when he would grab his hair and fuck his mouth…
Desmond held this unquestioning trust that Altaïr would take care of him.
So when Altaïr requested him…
“You want to record us having sex?”
Altaïr nodded with an impressive poker face that held no embarrassment at all.
Desmond would have been impressed had he not been too focused on wondering why Altaïr would ask such a thing.
This was… a kink, right?
Desmond had his fair share of kinky lovers.
Okay.
He had one kinky lover but she was more on the side of liking Desmond to be handcuffed which he didn’t mind as long as he held the key.
Recording a sex tape…
That was definitely kinkier than just being cuffed to the bed, right?
“To be more exact, I want to record you while we’re having sex.” Altaïr clarified, making Desmond tilt his head. Desmond was glad that Altaïr knew him enough that a single movement was all Desmond needed to do for Altaïr to expound, “I want to paint you again but the expression I want you to make is one I usually see when we’re having sex. Since it would be hard for you to keep such an expression, recording you and replaying it to find the right timing would be a better alternative.”
Desmond could understand that.
Wait.
Did that mean that Altaïr wanted to paint him having another ‘debauched’ expression?
“Of course we can play the recording soon after and you can delete the only copy after I have sketched it.” Altaïr turned his gaze at the ground as he admitted, “It would be better if I have a picture of it as reference but…”
Altaïr raised his head to stare back at Desmond as he said firmly, “I will be willing to just have a sketch of it if that would make you feel better.”
Desmond rubbed the back of his neck and turned to look at the locked door of the painting room. His hesitation must have shown through because Altaïr said, “You can take as long as you want to think about this, ya omri. And I’m willing to compromise as much as possible to make you comfortable and, if that’s impossible…”
Altaïr held his hand and Desmond turned to stare back at him as he said softly, “Then I will lay this request to rest and we’ll never talk about it again.”
“Altaïr…” Desmond squeezed his hand as he replied, “I’ll… think about it.”
Altaïr nodded as he said with a small soft smile, “That’s all I ask, ya omri. Whatever decision you make, I will accept it.”
His decision was made the following day.
After their daily lunch and Altaïr had left to return to his work, Desmond had visited the painting room once more.
Altaïr kept it locked as usual but he did give Desmond a copy of the key to do as he pleased.
“You can even rearrange it or decorate it if you want.”
Altaïr had said it so casually but the key felt heavy in his palm.
This was a part of Altaïr that he rarely shared with anyone. He even admitted that among his childhood friends (which he preferred to call his boarding school mates), only two people had even been allowed to see them.
And now…
The painting that hung on the wall directly in front of the door…
The painting that would catch the eyes of anyone who would enter the room…
It was his painting.
And just seeing that expression on his painting’s face…
Remembering Altaïr’s hands on his body as he pleasured Desmond…
Remembering how Altaïr fucked him right in front of the painting the day he hung it…
Desmond could help the burning desire to see what Altaïr would paint next.
And…
What reward he’d give Desmond for indulging him…
They recorded having sex in the bedroom.
Altaïr had brought a few equipment that lit the room brightly and explained that he had actually bought them after watching a few ‘how to’ videos from YouTube about how to light up a room so that the recording would be as clear as possible.
Desmond knew Altaïr was telling the truth when he said that he had done all of these preparation so that they wouldn’t need to redo any recording because of a lighting problem. Altaïr did need to see Desmond as clearly as possible to be able to sketch him.
It made the room hotter than normal.
And everything was so bright.
Desmond wasn’t sure why Altaïr decided to fuck him while he was lying on his back but he knew that video recorder he had placed on a tripod would be able to capture his face from that angle.
It would be an awkward angle but it would get the job done.
And, soon enough, Desmond even forgot about the camera as waves after waves of pleasures assaulted him.
Desmond could only moan and grip the bed sheet tightly as Altaïr fucked him hard. One leg had been thrown over his shoulder while the other leg was curled around Altaïr’s waist, Desmond’s body begging Altaïr to fuck him more.
To keep fucking him until he could no longer remember his own name.
And Altaïr indulged him.
He always did.
And Desmond knew he would never be able to let Altaïr go.
They watched the recording after showering and taking a nap. Desmond realized that Altaïr had planned the recording on the day that Desmond and Altaïr would both have the same day off on purpose.
Well, Desmond didn’t mind.
He loved it when their day off would coincide with one another, after all.
But then…
He didn’t expect Altaïr to play it while Desmond was sitting on his lap, his half-hard cock deep inside him.
… keeping it warm.
Desmond couldn’t help the way his own cock grew hard at their current position. Sitting in the living room, watching the recording on the same widescreen TV that they used for movie nights.
Altaïr sitting comfortable on the sofa with Desmond on his lap, his cock deep inside him and his back resting against Altaïr’s chest.
The recording played and Desmond couldn’t help but be embarrassed when he saw the way he acted in the recording.
His moans of Altaïr’s name was louder than he remembered. The words that left his lips, begging for more and loud incoherent moans…
They were embarrassing to hear.
But at the same time…
Desmond felt it once more.
That burning desire to be taken by Altaïr…
It felt like jealousy.
… and anticipation…
Desmond couldn’t help himself, grinding against Altaïr’s lap as he felt Altaïr’s cock harden inside him.
He felt Altaïr grab his hips to stop him and all he could do was breath with an open mouth as Altaïr whispered right to his ear, making him shiver as he felt his warm breath against his ear, “Stay still, ya omri. Just a bit more…”
Desmond whimpered and he felt one of Altaïr’s hand wrap around his cock, “Sshhh… I’ll take care of you, ya omri. Just…”
He wrapped his other hand on Desmond’s waist and pulled him closer. Desmond felt like Altaïr was caging him in but that only made him feel safer. His body grew lax and soft moans left his lips as Altaïr began to stroke him slowly. His half-lidded eyes focused on the recording of him getting fucked hard and fast made his entire body hotter as he felt the languid pace Altaïr stroke him.
But he stayed relax.
Altaïr gave him an order and Desmond wanted to do it.
Because he knew that the reward he’d receive for being a good boy would be worth it.
That day, they watched the recording to the very end before Altaïr whispered, “Ride me. Go on. Use me, ya omri.”
It was a bit awkward to fuck himself on Altaïr’s cock in their current position as he couldn’t hold onto Altaïr’s shoulders for balance. Instead, he held onto the armrest of the sofa while his other hand grabbed the back of the sofa behind him. It was an awkward position but it gave Desmond enough leverage to bounce up and down Altaïr’s cock, taking his reward as he used Altaïr’s cock to cum once more.
It didn’t take too long for him to cum, his entire body already buzzing with anticipation and the desire to finally reach that peak ever since they started to watch the recording.
Still, he begged Altaïr to take him once more because he was greedy.
He wanted more.
And he knew Altaïr would grant his wish.
Altaïr still haven’t cum after all.
Altaïr gently laid his upper body on the coffee desk, forcing him kneel with his upper body pressed on the smooth cool surface of the coffee desk.
Then he took him from behind, fucking into him so hard the coffee table would move with each thrust.
Desmond was left powerless, his body too sluggish to do anything but take what Altaïr gave him.
Just as he wanted…
One hand wrap around his soft cock and Desmond whimpered for his cock was still too sensitive.
But he didn’t say no.
He didn’t stop it.
Because the uncomfortable feeling he felt only heighten the pleasure he received from being fucked like this.
Powerless.
Completely at Altaïr’s mercy.
Trusting everything to Altaïr…
And only focusing on all the pleasure and pain he was receiving.
He accepted them all.
Because they were his.
He could no longer grow hard but cum dripped from his cock as both pain and pleasure blur all around him, assaulting him until nothing else mattered but Altaïr.
He let out a breathless moan when he finally felt Altaïr cum inside him.
He was too weak to even raise his head and he stayed slump on the table.
He heard some rustling and he felt something be placed on his back.
His face heated up when he heard the recording be played once more, this time it was fast forwarded for a while before being played.
He could hear his own voice moaning Altaïr’s name loudly but he didn’t bother to raise his head.
He couldn’t even if he wanted to.
Instead, he kept his head turned to the side, his cheek pressed against the cold surface of the coffee table.
The recording stopped and there was silence for a few seconds before…
He heard the sounds that he had grown quite familiar with.
Altaïr was sketching…
While still inside of Desmond.
Desmond moaned weakly, feeling the slight movements on his back.
He was using Desmond to…
Oh.
Desmond’s cock twitched pitiful but he was simply too tired and too far gone to truly be aroused at the moment.
Still…
The idea of being treated like this…
Desmond couldn’t help but admit that he quite liked it.
Altaïr’s next painting was much more…
Indecent?
Maybe?
He had depicted Desmond as he was in bed but had changed the angle so it looked more like he was about to fall out of bed.
Once more, shadows wrapped around him to hide his lower body with shadowy tendrils marking him as if trying to slowly slither to his chest.
The bed sheet was vibrant red that complemented his skin and the background was shrouded in darkness, with fallen golden feathers littering the ground.
On top of Desmond was a figure shrouded in shadows…
And golden eyes that Desmond was familiar with.
Still, he couldn’t help but ask as he watched Altaïr place the painting next to his first painting of Desmond, “Do you think you’re corrupting me?”
Altaïr turned to stare at him as Desmond said, “Just a little to the left.”
Altaïr tilted the painting to the left until he heard Desmond say, “Stop.”
Altaïr kept his eyes trained on Desmond as he looked over the painting before nodding, “Yup. That’s better.”
Altaïr let go of the painting and turned around as he stepped back. He stared at the painting as he asked, “Do you think that’s what this painting is meant to show?”
“I’m not really one of those art critics who look at symbolism and stuff.” Desmond walked towards the painting until he was standing next to Altaïr. They both stared at painting at he said, “It’s just…”
Desmond turned to stare at Altaïr as he admitted softly, “I want to see a painting of you too…”
Altaïr’s eyes widened at those words and Desmond looked away, focusing his attention back to the painting in front of them, “It feels a bit unfair that I’m the only one being painted when…”
Desmond looked at his expression in the painting as he mumbled, “You’re the reason why I’m making that embarrassing face.”
“It’s not embarrassing.”
Desmond turned to face Altaïr, his breath hitching when Altaïr leaned closer. Their lips just inches away from one another, so close that he could feel Altaïr’s warm breath against his lips. Desmond’s lips parted and his cheeks reddened as his eyes start to drop, feeling his breath be taken away from him by the intensity of Altaïr’s golden eyes staring straight at him.
“It’s beautiful.” Altaïr whispered. His voice was gentle yet held such conviction that left Desmond unable to deny it.
Not that he wanted to.
He knew he was attractive.
He had used his pretty face to get tips after all.
But…
The way Altaïr said it…
The way he looked at him…
Desmond leaned closer and closed the gap between them, capturing Altaïr’s lips to a searing kiss that threatened to consume his entire body and soul.
And Desmond knew that he would happily let Altaïr consume him.
His heart was already his, after all.
Desmond still worked in the bar but it was…
Well…
Desmond knew that many would see his relationship with Altaïr as being more on the side of him mooching on his lover.
The apartment they lived in was in Altaïr’s name and it was in one of the expensive parts of the city.
Altaïr bought it and his friend’s family owned the building as well.
Altaïr was loaded and he came from old money.
He had a distant relationship with his grandfather but he was still his grandfather’s heir and he had already taken over the family’s finances due to his grandfather’s advanced age. He was in charge of making sure all of his family’s investments were doing well and he was taking care of his grandfather’s living expenses as well.
Altaïr never did say it outright but Desmond was sure he became head researcher because he enjoyed it.
Both the research and the development aspect of his work.
Desmond, on the other hand, had been working to meet month’s end every month, sometimes having to cut some things off (usually food) to just scrounge up enough money for his living expenses.
Then Altaïr came into his life and Desmond followed him without any hesitation.
Financially, Altaïr was supporting Desmond. The tips and salary Desmond got went to his ‘emergency funds’ which felt more like secret money he had stashed away in his cabinet at this point.
Altaïr had even opened a bank account in his name and would deposit monthly to it for Desmond’s personal use.
Desmond knew what this meant.
He was a sugar baby.
There was no other way to see it.
And his sugar daddy was only a year older than him.
To be fair, Desmond wouldn’t have minded if Altaïr was much older. Hell, he’d definitely still beg Altaïr to fuck him even if they had a huge age gap.
But Desmond could only say that so confidently now because he was in love with Altaïr.
And he knew that Altaïr loved him back.
So if he was to say that he didn’t want to work anymore, Altaïr wouldn’t even bat an eye.
Hell, he’d probably enjoy it because it meant that they wouldn’t have just a few hours to be together in between the end of Desmond’s shift and before Altaïr had to go to work. Desmond’s off days were erratic most of the time but he was trying to get it to an actual workable schedule that would coincide with Altaïr’s own off days. It was just hard because Desmond had been working in the bar long enough that people knew that they could easily trade day offs with him if they needed to.
The first few times he had said no, they didn’t think much of it.
But now…
He was sure they were thinking that something fishy was happening.
They didn’t ask Desmond outright though because they weren’t exactly close enough to Desmond to make casual talk.
Honestly, Desmond didn’t need to work if he wanted to.
It was just…
He didn’t really have anything to do if he didn’t work.
He wasn’t like Altaïr who had a hobby.
He had tried as many hobbies as he could possible do to find out if any of them could keep his attention long enough but…
To be completely honest…
Desmond had a feeling the only hobby that would ever hold his attention for as long as he lived would be…
… sex.
Okay, that sounded a bit like Desmond was a sex addict but that wasn’t exactly correct.
To clarify, Desmond enjoyed sex and everything connected to it.
The foreplay…
The actual act…
Afterwards…
Sex always made Desmond feel like he was connected to his partner.
And it was easy for him to lose himself to the pleasure of the act.
To be in that floaty space that left him unable to function like a normal human being for an hour or more, depending on how intense or how long he’d been drowning in pleasure.
His partners had always varying reactions to his state afterwards. It made quickies impossible and, to be completely honest, Desmond had never been satisfied with such quick encounters anyway.
But Altaïr…
Altaïr was the first person to see him in that state and ask…
“Can I keep going?”
And Desmond always said yes.
Because it felt so good.
So wonderful.
So much…
It was too much but Desmond still loved it. The way Altaïr would mix both pain and pleasure, making Desmond feel so much and still want more.
More, more, more.
Desmond never realized it before he met Altaïr but he was greedy.
Greedy for affection.
Greedy for a connection.
Greedy for more.
Always more.
And Altaïr… always gave him more.
So much more.
And all he asked was Desmond to stay by his side.
To smile at him…
Desmond sometimes felt like he was taking advantage of Altaïr’s feelings for him.
But then…
They would do things like this…
And Desmond would remember that he also could never say no to Altaïr.
“Ah!” Desmond arched his back and his entire body trembled as Altaïr continued to fuck him from behind. His hands remained above his head, wrapped in ropes that restricted his wrists and kept him dangling an inch off the ground. Not that it mattered since Altaïr was holding him by the waist. Being unable to hold onto Altaïr was a torture. Even his legs were unable to do anything, bent to the knees and tied together with ropes.
He was immobilized, completely at Altaïr’s mercy.
And he relished in his powerlessness…
Because he knew all he had to do was say their safe word and Altaïr would stop.
He never did though.
He didn’t want this to stop.
He didn’t want Altaïr to stop.
God.
How he wished he could remain like this, forever encased in an eternal loop of pain and pleasure…
He knew it was impossible but Desmond couldn’t help the way his mind wandered to such strange places.
Wanting nothing more than to be filled with Altaïr’s every desire and wish.
And be rewarded for being such a good lover and be cared for afterwards.
All the while being used over and over again.
And endless cycle.
Oh.
How wonderful it would be if that was to come true.
Of course, they watched this recording as well.
Desmond didn’t even delete the first one and simply placed the SD card of the video recorder on the case that Altaïr had bought after Desmond admitted he wouldn’t ‘mind’ if they were to rewatch it some time. The case could hold 20 more cards and there was enough space to write something above each case. Altaïr let Desmond write whatever he wanted so he just wrote whatever came to mind.
Which turned out to be the date…
Hey, Desmond never said he had any creative juice in him.
Altaïr himself never bothered to name any of his paintings!
And so… this would be their second recording.
And this time, Desmond didn’t mind not seeing it. Just hearing it…
Hearing himself…
It was enough.
Instead, he focused on warming Altaïr’s cock in his mouth.
It was a familiar weight in his mouth and Desmond didn’t even know how it was possible but he was starting to drop into that floaty space he always went to whenever he had sex by the midpoint of the recording.
The only thing that kept him from fully dropping was watching Altaïr.
Seeing the intense look on his face as he watched the recording.
Feeling his cock harden in Desmond’s mouth.
Leaning into the gentle caresses Altaïr rewarded him when the recording was over.
He watched as Altaïr replayed the recording, fast forwarding to the middle part before pressing play. A minute later, Altaïr paused the video and took out his sketchpad and pencil. Desmond watched him sketch and time meant meaningless. He couldn’t even feel the ache of his jaw nor did his drooling bother him.
By the end of it, Altaïr rewarded him by fucking his mouth until he came in Desmond’s throat. Desmond greedily swallowed his cum, ignoring his own hard cock.
Until Altaïr gently laid him on the couch and took his cock in his mouth. Both of his leg rested on Altaïr’s shoulders and his hands gripped Altaïr’s dark brown curls as Altaïr sucked and bobbed his head.
Desmond didn’t last long, cumming into Altaïr’s hot mouth. He tugged on his hair before Altaïr could swallow and Altaïr crawled towards him. Desmond captured his mouth and greedily swallowed his own cum before licking the drool on the side of Altaïr’s mouth.
His greed was rewarded with the two of them spending the rest of the day lazily kissing and holding each other as they laid on the couch until Altaïr’s cock could harden again so he could fuck Desmond again.
That painting turned out to be more… revealing than Desmond expected.
Not in the risque kind of sense but…
The shadowy figure that had always been Altaïr’s substitute had more form now. It was still shrouded in shadows but Altaïr made use of the light to accentuate the actual figure instead of letting it appear more or less like a blob of shadows and smokes.
Instead of ropes, the painting had shadowy tendrils wrapped around his wrists and Altaïr had chosen a latter part of the recording where he had untied the ropes from the beam that ensured Desmond’s hands would be above his head at all times.
This did mean that Altaïr was carrying Desmond’s entire weight and the painting had him resting his back against the shadowy figure’s front, his head turned with an expression that was just begging to be kissed.
He remembered Altaïr kissed him. It had been a long filthy kiss that had muffled his moans as Altaïr continued to fuck him.
And now, seeing the moment before that frozen in time, painted by Altaïr’s talented fingers…
Desmond could see the love in his expression.
The complete trust…
It was dangerous.
So dangerous that a small part of Desmond was whispering to him to run.
Instead, he stared at the shadowy part that was meant to be Altaïr and his heart soared at the intensity of those golden eyes.
Altaïr stood next to him and crossed his hands, staring at the painting.
Scrutinizing it…
Did he see any imperfection? Anything he’d like to change?
Desmond couldn’t see any of that though.
In this eyes, these paintings were perfect the way they were.
They showed Desmond’s real self.
The disgusting filthy man that he truly was. How he begged for affection and attention. How he relished in the pleasure and pain given to him.
They showed just how weak Desmond was for Altaïr.
And that was what gave him courage to finally speak.
Altaïr had already painted Desmond’s true self. It didn’t matter now if Desmond was to confess about the truth of his past.
Because he trusted Altaïr would accept him, no matter how many cracks he had in his very soul.
Just as he knew he would accept Altaïr, regardless of what was underneath that shroud of shadows around him.
“My dad’s the leader of a cult.”
Altaïr turned his head to stare at him.
“The Children of the True God of Salvation.” Desmond said, his voice bearing a cold calmness to it that surprised even him, “It’s in Black Hills, South Dakota… near Rapid City.”
“At least… I’m sure it’s still there.” Desmond shrugged, “It’s one of those completely isolated ‘community’-”
He couldn’t help the way the word ‘community’ held such venom that it had surprised him as well but he didn’t falter, “- that grew their own food and shit. It doesn’t even have electricity so when the sun sets, the only light I’d see was from the candles and…”
Desmond took a deep breath before continuing, “It was close to Rapid City enough that I could see the lights at night. Growing up, I thought it was a sea of stars far off the distance.”
Desmond wrapped his arms around himself as he continued, “The cult has this… tradition. Every Sunday, they’d gather around at the center of town and they’d bring the ‘sacrifice’.”
“Everyone would take turns, whispering the sins they have committed to the sacrifice that week and then they’d take this thing dad calls the ‘cane of salvation’ and they’d hit the sacrifice to rid themselves of the sins they had whispered to the sacrifice.” Desmond felt like… he was just telling a story.
Like it happened to someone else.
And in some ways, it did.
He wasn’t the sacrifice anymore because…
“I became the sacrifice when I was seven years old, I think?” Desmond shrugged, “I don’t even remember anymore. All I remember is that… I took the sacrifice role from my mom. She died that year.”
Desmond sighed before admitting, “I don’t even know if being a sacrifice had anything to do with it. Dad just told me that mom died… I don’t remember if I ever saw her body…”
“Anyway…” Desmond waved his hand like he was just swatting a fly, “I wasn’t the only sacrifice but I was the main one. I would be the sacrifice unless the beating I took the week before haven’t healed enough in dad’s eyes.”
“Then…” Desmond wrapped his arms around himself again, “After everyone had taken their turns, my dad would take me back to our home, the god’s chambers he called it, and he would clean and treat me…”
“But… only if I can remember every single sin they whispered to me.” Desmond added, “He always knew when I forgot something or when I tried to lie. It got easier when I grew older but… well…”
Desmond sighed before saying, “It was definitely hard when I was just starting.”
“When I turned thirteen, I ran away.” Desmond said lightly, “The people in Rapid City thought I was… you know… one of those religious ‘no technology’ type?”
“But some of them still helped me, gave me a bit of food… a group of girls on a road-trip thought I was cute and let me hitched a hike and…” Desmond waved a hand over himself as he said, “Here I am.”
Desmond finally turned to look at Altaïr, heart beating fast as a small part of him was afraid to see Altaïr’s reaction. His breath hitched when he saw the blank expression on Altaïr’s face.
And the burning fury in his golden eyes.
“Sometimes… I still hear dad calling me… telling me it was time to be the sacrifice again.” Desmond admitted as he turned to face Altaïr, “Just someone calling my name… ‘Desmond’… and for just a moment, I’m back in that hell again… hearing my dad call me.”
“But then you…” Desmond took a step towards Altaïr and gently grabbed both of his hands, “You came to my life and… you have me a new name.”
“Ya omri.” Desmond whispered, perfectly mimicking Altaïr’s pronunciation, “My life…”
“You probably don’t know how… accurate your name for me is, Altaïr.” Desmond let go of one of his hands to caress his cheek, “I never knew what it meant to be alive until I became yours…”
“If I’m your life, Altaïr, then you’re mine because you…” Desmond leaned closer. They noses touched as he whispered, “… you’re the reason why I feel alive.”
“So keep calling me ya omri and…” Desmond’s lips touched Altaïr’s as he whispered, “Keep me.”
He felt Altaïr’s free hand wrap around his waist as he whispered, “Never let me go.”
“I won’t.” Altaïr whispered as he promised, “I’ll never let you go, ya omri.”
“And I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you away from me.” Altaïr darkly promised before their lips finally met.
Desmond closed his eyes and eagerly accepted Altaïr’s kiss, his heart soaring at the dark promise Altaïr had just given him.
He knew it was a dangerous promise but…
Desmond couldn’t help but feel that it was the most wonderful promise he had ever received his entire life.
Desmond finally met Altaïr’s boarding school mates about a year and a half since Altaïr first came to the bar.
They were an entertaining bunch.
And he will admit, he found himself quite fond of Kadar Al-Sayf almost immediately.
He had heard of them, of course.
They were one of the few people Altaïr talked about and he didn’t exactly show it but Desmond could feel that Altaïr truly cared and respected them all.
He definitely talked about them with a lighter tone that he had ever talked about his grandfather, that was for sure.
And it wasn’t like this was the first time he was meeting some of them.
Malik Al-Sayf was Altaïr’s coworker and, if Malik was to be believed in, it had been more or less an accident on their part, their school rivalry building until it all erupted with the both of them aiming for the top company of their respective fields. Malik was a chemist though while Altaïr was more on the side of engineering (although Malik had complained how Altaïr liked to meddle in other department’s projects at times, especially Malik’s).
And he also met Ratonhnhaké:ton before. He had visited their apartment a week after the bondage painting (as Desmond liked to call it) was placed in the painting room. He and Altaïr talked in the office while Desmond made lunch and Ratonhnhaké:ton stayed to eat with them. He was a bit on the quiet side but he indulged Desmond’s questions of what Altaïr was like when he was in boarding school.
They were familiar faces and Malik had whispered to him before they entered the restaurant one of their friends, Arno Dorian, owned that his brother used to have a crush on Altaïr and he had made this silly promise to his younger self to try and hate Desmond after Altaïr told them about him.
Desmond had been worried but Altaïr just sighed and placed a hand on his waist, telling him that he can just ignore Kadar if he wanted. He’d stop when he get bored.
The fact that Kadar’s own brother didn’t refute it helped calm Desmond’s nerves.
Then he met Kadar and saw how hard he was trying to be mean but it came out more like apologetic and awkward made Desmond feel bad for him.
By the end of it, he was making plans to have lunch with Kadar, making Altaïr sulk because that meant there would be a day where he can’t have lunch with Desmond.
Maybe some people would be annoyed or concerned of how much Altaïr liked to monopolize Desmond’s time but Desmond relished it.
He loved being the center of Altaïr’s world even if it was just a few hours in a day.
Also, he had an excuse to visit Altaïr at his work to drop off his lunch after every lunch with Kadar since Malik called him and told him that Altaïr’s team had asked him if something was wrong because, not only had Altaïr not went home for lunch, but he had actually skipped it and was now grumpier and more easily irritated than usual.
Plus…
Desmond had an excuse to suck Altaïr off quickly before leaving. The thrill of being caught paled in comparison to the tingling sensation he felt over not being able to cum himself, forcing himself to not take matters into his own hands, knowing that Altaïr would reward him when they were both home.
It was during one of his lunch dates with Kadar (which Malik always joined although Altaïr never did, a fact that Desmond liked to think was Altaïr’s way of silently giving Desmond time to build connections on his own) that Kadar asked him when their anniversary was and…
Desmond couldn’t give him an answer.
They didn’t really celebrate anniversaries.
For one, Desmond was pretty sure Altaïr and he didn’t even know when they should celebrate their anniversary.
The first time they met?
The first time they spoke?
The first time they fucked?
And they couldn’t exactly just place it on the first time they had a date because they didn’t exactly date.
When their relationship was only beginning, Altaïr would stay until closing time and get less than two hours of sleep before he had to leave for work. Desmond had to put his foot down and make Altaïr promise to sleep once he was home and just set an alarm so he’d wake up to pick Desmond after his shift was over.
During that time, they’d spend their time together, eating breakfast, sometimes having sex when there was time, other times, Desmond would just watch as Altaïr prepare for work and they’d relax for a bit before Altaïr had to truly leave. Then Desmond would sleep the day away until Altaïr returned home for lunch.
Then Desmond would join him in leaving the apartment and return to his own apartment.
So…
They didn’t exactly go out on dates and such.
And that didn’t really change when Desmond started to live with Altaïr.
But…
They both had a soft spot for rainy nights.
It was the rain that gave Desmond the chance to talk to Altaïr, after all.
And… there was something simply soothing, hearing the rain pitter-patter against the window while Altaïr’s warmth envelop him.
It was during one of those rainy nights that they had another recording session. Desmond had started to get excited during these times, partly because he always enjoyed the second round they would have whenever they would watch the recording and partly because he really liked Altaïr’s paintings.
The rain started when they were kissing while taking off their clothes and Desmond couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face, making Altaïr pull away just enough to look at Desmond with a questioning gaze.
Desmond simply grinned and kissed Altaïr once more. This time their kiss was slow and Desmond sighed, his entire body relaxing as he felt Altaïr’s warm hands on his waist.
That night, Altaïr took him slow. He left soft kisses all around his body that Desmond knew would leave him marked for days. Fucked him slowly with his fingers as he sucked his cock until he came.
Desmond was left unable to move, only able to moan and accept the slow pace Altaïr had set. He could feel Altaïr’s cock inside him slowly thrust and it was a different kind of torture.
Such sweet torture.
Gentle and kind.
Yet teasing and sadistic.
Altaïr knew how Desmond liked to be fucked.
He was doing this on purpose.
And Desmond couldn’t even beg properly, still riding the high of coming into Altaïr’s mouth.
The meaning of time was lost to Desmond. The sweet torture of Altaïr’s slow pace keeping him floating yet never reaching that peak that Desmond so wished.
He was left at Altaïr’s complete mercy.
And all he could do was cry and moan when Altaïr finally quicken the pace, placing both of his hands on Desmond’s waist and pulling him towards him at the time of his quickening thrusts.
He felt so used.
Simply a doll for Altaïr’s pleasure.
And he loved every second of it.
He didn’t need to do anything.
Altaïr used him as he saw fit and Altaïr always made sure that Desmond would feel so much pleasure that he wouldn’t want anything else.
When Altaïr came inside him, Desmond’s own cum was already cooling on his stomach and his eyes were unfocused, staring at the video camera but not really seeing it. He felt Altaïr rest his head next to his and hold him close.
And Desmond’s eyes shut as he welcomed Altaïr’s warmth.
Watching the recording had been… an experience?
Sorta?
Desmond was still boneless from their recording session so Altaïr had to carry him to the living room and set up everything while Desmond just sat on the couch, not really sleeping but still a bit out of it.
By the time Altaïr sat next to him, Desmond was lucid enough to rest his head on Altaïr’s shoulder.
He had been planning to warm his cock later once he felt like he wasn’t just going to drool on Altaïr and the couch but…
The recording only got as far as the two of them kissing when Altaïr pressed the rewind button.
He stopped it around the time when Desmond was chuckling. Desmond wasn’t sure what happened during that time.
Did Altaïr say something?
No.
Altaïr had been kissing his neck and… Desmond wasn’t sure but maybe one of Altaïr’s curly locks had grazed Desmond’s jaw and that tickled him?
Desmond did have quite a sensitive jaw.
Altaïr began to sketch while Desmond just stared at the paused video.
Staring at the Altaïr in the video.
His stomach grew warm as he stared at the soft smile on Altaïr’s face as he looked up to Desmond in the video.
He had seen Altaïr make that face a few times before.
And it was just how he remembered it.
A softness that only Desmond had ever seen.
That painting would be the most tame of the three paintings so far.
… four if Desmond was counting the one where Altaïr painted him sitting on a throne all by his own.
It was…
Soft.
That was the best way Desmond could describe it.
Altaïr’s form was still shrouded in shadows and smokes and the background was still dark with a large window showing the rain to the right. That was the only source of light in the painting and it mainly stayed on Desmond’s form. Altaïr captured him when he was laughing because Altaïr’s hair had tickled his jaw. His arms were wrapped around Altaïr’s shoulders and his eyes were closed. As usual, his lower half was shrouded by shadows with tendrils making their way up to his chest but…
It still held that mysterious darkness in it.
Yet Desmond felt some kind of… softness in the entire thing. The intensity of Altaïr’s golden eyes were the same kind that Desmond would always see when Altaïr would smile at him. It was a different kind of intensity and focus that made Desmond feel lighter. He was the center of Altaïr’s world and he felt…
Treasured.
Altaïr had managed to capture it in his painting. With Desmond being the only being lit by the rainy weather outside the window, it was easy to believe that Desmond was the light in the darkness.
Yet…
The darkness that shrouded his lower half.
He had always assumed that it was meant to provide him modesty and maybe it was meant to be some kind of symbol of Altaïr’s possessiveness but…
He realized…
It was meant to signify Desmond’s own shadows.
The darkness in him.
Altaïr knew he was hiding something and he showed it in his painting.
But he never said anything.
Because he knew…
No.
Altaïr wanted Desmond to tell him when he was ready.
And…
“You can tell me everything when you’re ready.” Desmond said softly just as Altaïr stood next to him, staring at the painting.
Altaïr remained quiet and Desmond continued, “I’ll accept your darkness…”
Desmond turned to stare at Altaïr as he stated, “No matter what it is.”
And he would.
He had fallen too deeply for Altaïr that nothing could ever change his feelings.
He was sure of it.
Altaïr was quiet for a moment before he said, “Next year…”
“We should go hunting.” Altaïr turned to stare at him as he said, “Just the two of us.”
Desmond blinked at the randomness of it before he admitted with a small embarrassed smile, “I’ve never… I don’t know how…”
“I’ll teach you.” Altaïr slowly lowered his hands before taking one of Desmond’s hand into his, “If you’d like?”
Desmond stared at Altaïr for a moment before he smiled as he whispered, “I’d like to go hunting with you.”
This would be the second time he would be accompanying Altaïr to the basement parking of their apartment building on his way to his yearly hunting trip with his boarding school friends. The first time, Desmond had spent the entire elevator ride asking him questions of where they were staying, what they were hunting, how long they’ve been doing this…
Just…
Desmond wanted to know more about Altaïr back then.
Now…
“You remember to pack your emergency food, right?”
“CalorieMate is not emergency food.” Altaïr reminded him with a small fond smile before he said, “But I did pack it. You saw me pack it, remember?”
“In your bag.” Desmond clarified as he shot Altaïr a look, the elevator letting out the same sound it had been making every time they dropped down a floor, “I’m telling you to pack it in your hunting gear.”
Altaïr kept his eyes on Desmond as he unzipped his duffel bag and took out the box of CalorieMate that Desmond had bought when he was in the groceries and placing it on the bag that held his compact crossbow, his eyes never leaving Desmond’s face even as he zipped both his duffel bag and the bag of his compact crossbow.
Desmond simply nodded to show that he was satisfied. Altaïr stared at him before chuckling, shaking his head fondly before leaning in to kiss Desmond’s cheek.
Desmond turned to face him and closed his eyes. He felt Altaïr’s lips press against his and parted his lips just in time to hear the elevator ding.
Desmond sighed and opened his eyes just as Altaïr pull back. He kissed Desmond briefly before he walked out of the elevator, followed closely by Desmond.
Desmond placed his hands on the front pockets of his hoodie as he watched Altaïr place his duffel bag and the bag of his crossbow on the backseat of his car before walking towards the driver’s seat. He opened the door but didn’t get in, instead turning to face Desmond once more. Desmond walked towards him and rested both of his arms on Altaïr’s shoulders at the same time Altaïr placed his hands on Desmond’s waist. Desmond leaned close and pressed their foreheads together as he whispered, “You’ll be careful, alright?”
“Always.” Altaïr replied confidently, making Desmond chuckle.
“And have fun?”
“I’ll try.” Altaïr dryly stated, making Desmond let out a burst of loud laughter as he threw his head back.
Desmond leaned close once more and placed both of his hands on Altaïr’s cheeks as Altaïr whispered, “I’ll bring back my last kill.”
Remembering the fresh meat that Altaïr brought back after their hunting trip, Desmond grinned as he said, “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Altaïr…” Their noses touch as Desmond closer, “Take care, okay?”
“I’ll be back soon, ya omri.”
“I know.” Desmond closed the short distance between their lips and closed his eyes, sighing as Altaïr deepened their kiss.
He always knew…
Altaïr will always come back to him.
Just as he will always stay with Altaïr.