Undress Me

Desmond Miles was bored.

He was climbing up a stack of crates that were held in the warehouse area, wondering idly if he was as fast as Ezio or Altair, before a voice called up to him, "Don't fall, Spiderman!"

Snorting, Desmond finished climbing the stack before turning to grin at Lucy. "You guys off out?"

Lucy smiled. "Rebecca and I are. We're gonna do some grocery shopping, there's no food left." She turned towards the door. "Don't kill Shaun while we're gone!"

"Har har." Desmond let himself fall down the side of the crates, bending his knees to absorb some of the shock. He landed, and began to wander up the ramp, towards the Animus 2.0's resting spot.

And Shaun.

Desmond grinned, and slid right up behind the historian, his arms slipping around his neck, and pressed his palms flat against Shaun's chest.

"Hello, Desmond." Came the flat greeting. "Stop touching me there."

"Daw, you're no fun. You want some tea to loosen up?" Desmond teased, swiveling the chair Shaun was sat on. The Brit frowned, glaring over the top of his glasses.

"I don't have time to play, Desmond." He glanced about, nervous, as the American leaned down, carefully pulling the glasses to rest on the top of Shaun's forehead.

"Becca and Lucy are out shopping." He smiled. "You really should listen when people talk to you, Hastings."

A witty reply was bitten back as a soft kiss was pushed to Shaun's lips, Desmond bracing himself on Shaun's shoulders. After a few moments, Shaun glared at the man in front of him. Desmond drew back, licking his lips.

"How about you keep your promise, Shaun?" The tanned brunet asked, his face flushed. Shaun smirked, his hands reaching around Desmond's waist.

"What promise would that be, Miles?" The historian grinned, his hands barely brushing over the hem of the soon-to-be-assassin's hoodie.

"You said...you'd help me undress." Desmond swallowed thickly as the words left his mouth. Hands quickly unfastened the button of his jeans, and they fell to the floor, along with his underwear.

Shaun pushed Desmond down to the floor, his hands unfastening his own jeans as he held the brunet down. Desmond squirmed as the English assassin slicked two fingers, and slid them carefully into his body.

Desmond panted as he was stretched, Shaun's fingers working their magic, careful and soothing as he twisted his fingers into the heat of Desmond's body. The American hissed as the fingers withdrew, his body bucking.

"Damn it, Shaun, don't tease me..." He whimpered, his hands braced against the floor.

"Maybe if you weren't so fucking impatient-" Shaun hissed, and pressed himself forwards, elicting a cry from the man beneath him. Desmond's eyes closed against the pain, and then Shaun moved.

Pleasure spiked through Desmond, and he blinked as Shaun thrust again, hard. A slow, almost agonisingly slow pace, Shaun snarled ferally, holding the brunet down as he wrung moans and groans from the novice's lips.

Desmond braced his hands against the floor, his fingers slipping uselessly as he tried to find purchase against the wooden flooring. Shaun was thrusting in a way that made his vision spark white, that sent pain flooding up his spine with the pleasure, and all Desmond could do was take it, his own release so close...

A hand gently reached around to stroke the American, who whimpered, his cheek pressing harshly into the wood. Shaun snarled, and heat shot into Desmond, who finally fell to the floor as he came, his entire body falling slack.

Shaun laughed from somewhere above him. "Can you dress yourself, or do you need more help?" Came the jibe. Desmond rolled onto his back, and flung his arms around the Englishman's neck, pulling him back down with an "oomph".

"I think I'm happy like this." Desmond whispered, pressing a kiss to Shaun's cheek, his eyes closing blissfully.