Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Couldn't Think of A Warmer Welcome
“Shay?”
Liam’s voice comes hushed from the other end of the line. It’s almost as if he’s there in the dark bedroom with Shay, standing by the window overlooking the park. The street is damp from the earlier rain, the cars come and go, their orange headlights illuminating the room for mere moments each time.
“You there?”
Shay inhales sharply. His lips tremble, eyes closed as he swallows, trying to find his voice. The hand that holds the phone shakes. How long has it been since his hands had last shaken?
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I’m here, Liam.”
The other man chuckles sadly. “When did you become so proper?”
When, indeed. That’s the question that’s been plaguing Shay’s mind as of late. When did it all become so difficult, so different? Undoubtedly, he had been the one to change but the realization had hit him like cold wind on a winter day. He’s still numb to it, unable to open his eyes and wrap his hands around it. But it’s there, The Truth, laying before him for the first time.
Really, it shouldn’t have been so difficult. This was meant to be his redemption, his true show of allegiance and loyalty to the Creed. A mission only he could carry out. He had wanted this, wanted to give his own beliefs a second chance. Perhaps foolishly, what he wanted was to see if his faith was still strong, even after everything that had happened.
The task itself had been quite straightforward, though its execution was anything but: work as a mole in Abstergo Industries and kill Haytham Kenway. He didn’t even have to earn the man’s trust or anything, just corner him in the printer room one night and stab him, shoot him, rid the world of his existence. Kill Haytham Kenway, his superiors had all said, and you will be made a Master Assassin, and your loyalty to the Brotherhood will never again be questioned.
That’s all he had to do. Kill Haytham Kenway.
The same Haytham Kenway that’s currently down on his knees in front of him, Shay’s cock in his mouth.
“Shay?” Liam calls again, this time a bit more alarmed.
Haytham grins, his eyes pinned on Shay. The younger man watches in silence, desperately trying to hush the sounds that threaten to spill from his mouth. Haytham moves his head back, running his tongue across the entire length of Shay’s cock.
“I’m hearin’ ya,” responds Shay hurriedly. “Sorry, line’s kinda wonky.”
“It’s probably late over there. What are you doing still awake?”
“Thinking,” is the simple response Shay offers. That seems to be the only thing he can't do right now, entranced as he is by the way Haytham swallows him whole, sucking in his cheeks to hold his cock tightly. His mouth is warm and wet, his tongue devilish as it moves ceaselessly, tasting every inch of him. “Thinking hard.”
“That’s surprising,” Liam teases. “Took you for the type to just jump into action, no?”
“I’ve changed, Liam. I’ve…grown.”
Haytham pulls back, releasing Shay’s cock with a filthy pop. He wraps his hand around it, kissing it softly as he jerks it, his eyes unmoving from Shay’s own. His lips are glossy with precum and spit and Shay’s has never wanted anything more in his life than to reach down and just kiss him until they’ve both gone blue.
“I knew you would. I’m…proud of you, Shay.” Liam’s words are honest, if a little embarrassed. “I return next month.”
Shay swallows thickly. He gasps as Haytham wraps his soft lips around the tip, sucking on it like it’s a piece of hard candy.
“Ah,” he groans, bucking his hips forward eagerly. Haytham keeps him pinned with his gaze and soft touch alone, smiling coyly around his length. “I know. Achilles told me.”
In truth, he didn’t know because he hadn’t spoken to Achilles in a while. When his Mentor sent the occasional catch-up message - just to inquire about the mission, really, no personal interest involved - Shay only gave telegraphic responses, citing security measures as the reason for his laconicism or flat-out silence. The news of Liam’s return is a valuable piece of information, too valuable to even think about it falling in the wrong hands. Templar hands.
Haytham hums, pleased, the vibrations of his throat making Shay gasp and tremble. He feels the pleasure bubble in the pits of his stomach but it’s nowhere near enough. Haytham has absolute control over all of his senses, giving him just enough to keep him on the edge, teasing him, torturing him.
“You don’t sound excited.”
“Oh, Liam,” he moans. He hopes that the signal is bad enough for his voice to be interpreted as emotional. “I’m getting a little tired of being questioned all the time.” He inhales through his nose. “I love you, what more do you want me to say?”
There’s complete silence, broken only by the sounds of Haytham sucking earnestly and Shay’s shaky breathing.
“I love you, too, Shay. And… I want to try again when I get back.”
“I was hoping you’d say that - Ah!” Haytham opens his mouth widely, swallowing the entire length until the tip hits the far back of his throat. He takes it like a fucking champ. “I wanna try again, too.” Haytham’s eyes gleam in the dark. It amazes Shay just how smug this man can look, even with a cock in his mouth.
In any other case, Shay would’ve been crushed by the weight of his lies. Liam is his lover, his partner, and cheating was never something Shay even considered. Sure, he’s flirty and playful but above all, he’s loyal. What Haytham is doing to him is practically witchcraft, binding him with some spell that has him speaking in a voice he can’t recognize. Oh, but it’s so good. All he thinks is how good it feels, heaven down to his very bones.
Shay tips his head back, falling against the wall with only one hand to keep him steady. Haytham starts moving quicker, obviously annoyed that Liam is taking up so much of their time together.
“Liam,” he gasps. “How’s Italy?”
“Oh, you know. Sunny, crowded. I mostly go out at night but there’s still crowds everywhere.” He laughs. “I’ll bring you back a magnet.”
“Fun,” Shay murmurs. “How’s the search for the Templar vault going?”
“Not that great, to be honest with ya. Every time we’re about to make a breakthrough, it slips right between our fingers. It’s as if someone’s ahead of us and we have no way to fucking see them, let alone catch them."
Haytham urges Shay with a meaningful look. “You don’t think anyone’s leaking info, do you?”
Liam sighs wearily. “This La Volpe guy certainly does. I overheard him talking to Claudia, saying he suspects Machiavelli. It’s… Christ, it’s a mess here, Shay. I fear things are gonna get ugly soon. Ezio is doing everything he can to keep the balances but I can’t even begin to imagine what’s gonna happen if we uncover a Templar mole. It’ll be a relief, on one hand, that's for sure.”
“And on the other?” Shay presses on.
Liam falls silent once again. “There’s nothing worse than betrayal. I can’t even think about it…”
“I’m sure,” begins Shay, “that this will be all resolved soon.”
“Yeah, well. I plan on coming back, anyway. I’m done here, the Italians can deal with their own mess. I have to take care of mine.”
Shay manages a wry, bitter grin. “Would that be me?”
“You’ve always been my mess.”
Always something bad, a scourge, something to be dealt with. Never an equal, never much more than a problem.
“Goodnight, Shay. I’ll think of you.”
“Goodnight, Liam. I-” He never completes that sentence, his voice drowning in one loud groan as Haytham pulls back, letting the cool air hit Shay’s throbbing cock. He quickly ends the call and lets his phone drop to the floor.
Haytham grins at him. He tilts his head against Shay’s member, still jerking it slowly with his hand. “Good boy,” he praises.
Shay just stares at him, panting and wide-eyed. “You’ll be the death of me,” he whispers, half-horrified, half-mesmerized.
Slowly, Haytham rises. In the dim light pouring through the window, Shay can appreciate just how debauched the image of him is. His lips are swollen, precum leaking off the side of his mouth. His lashes are dark, his blue eyes shine like gemstones. His high cheeks are dusted pink and his hair a mess from where Shay pulled on it. “Thank you for this, Shay.” He wraps his arms around the other man’s neck, his hot breath tickling Shay’s mouth. “You’ve shown loyalty, devotion and efficiency. All great qualities for a Templar, and above all, for a man to possess.” Closer still he comes and Shay’s eyes roll to the back of his skull as Haytham’s hand squeezes his aching length as his tongue darts over the shell of his ear. “I should reward you.”
Unable to hold back any longer, Shay slams the older man against the wall and claims his lips in a bruising kiss that knocks the air out of Haytham’s lungs. He tastes himself on Haytham’s tongue and soft lips and still yearns for more. They kiss each other open-mouthed and greedy, their bodies tangled and pulling each other’s clothes off. Haytham wraps his legs around Shay’s waist and allows himself to be carried and thrown onto the bed. He laughs, arching his body to beckon Shay to come to him, claim him. Shay hastily discards any clothes he still has left on him, eagerly joining the other man in a heated embrace. Their naked bodies are flush against each other, their hard cocks rubbing together. Haytham spreads his legs to accommodate Shay and moans wantonly as the other man rolls his hips forward. Shay cups Haytham’s face, kissing his cheek, his jaw, down his neck and nibbling along his collarbone. Haytham trembles at his touch, arching into it.
“How may I serve you?” Shay breathes into Haytham’s ear. “How do you want me tonight?”
Haytham searches Shay’s face, his eyes drunkenly skimming over his features. “I want…I want your mouth.”
An animalistic growl claws its way from Shay’s throat. “Where, love? Show me.” His voice is dark, demanding, the way it can only be when the two of them are like this, together in the throes of satisfaction and staring into each other’s eyes. As equals.
Haytham swallows thickly. Even in the dim light of the room, Shay can see his cheeks turn pink, up to the tips of his ears. He spreads his legs wider, reaching one shaking hand close to his puckered hole. “Here,” he gasps. “I want to feel you, Shay.”
Shay grins widely. He scoots to lay on his front, his head between Haytham’s things. He runs his hands along the hard muscle, teasingly inching closer to the tight rim. Oh, those gorgeous legs. He’s seen them snap necks and squeeze the life out of weaker men, but Shay Patrick Cormac is not a weaker man. If anything, dying in such a way only sounds heavenly to him. “Your wish is my command, Grand Master.”
A sharp yank in his hair forces him to meet Haytham’s gaze. How a man can look so domineering even in such an undignified position is beyond his understanding. “Careful,” he tuts. “I still haven’t decided if you should join the Order.”
Shay’s smile only grows. It’s been a while since he’s felt such strong, giddy joy. “Then allow me to prove my worth to you.” Slowly, he brings his wet lips down on Haytham’s inner thighs, kissing a path along the supple skin, down to the tight heat so readily presented to him.
He gives the twitching hole a long lick and Haytham gasps, spreading his legs wider to have more of Shay. His tongue prods against it, his lips sucking on the tight muscle. It’s filthy and good, just the way he likes it. He spits into the entrance, kissing the small amount of liquid into Haytham’s tightness. The older man shudders, his hand tightening into Shay’s hair. Shay shivers at the stinging pain. The smell, the sounds, the taste - every sensation goes straight to his cock.
“Oh, Shay,” Haytham breathes. The pull on Shay’s hair acts as a warning, telling him that it’s enough for now, that Haytham needs him urgently.
Shay wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and before Haytham can protest, he brings his smiling mouth down to his own, catching him in a deep, sloppy kiss. They moan into each other, intertwined in a tight embrace.
“Nightstand,” gasps Haytham. Shay nods, shifting his attention to the nightstand. He finds the conveniently placed bottle of lube and a small, velvet box next to it. He casts Haytham a questioning glance, to which Haytham responds with a small nod.
He makes a show out of coating his cock with lube, bringing his slicked hand from root to tip in a languid display all for Haytham to savor. He leans back down, kissing Haytham slowly and sweetly as he aligns himself with this puffy hole.
“Give me your hand,” urges Haytham. Clumsily, he opens the box and pulls out a gleaming silver ring adorned with a red cross. Shay gasps softly
Haytham swallows, trying to find his words as Shay begins pushing into him. “Do you swear to uphold the principles of our Order- Ah!” His voice is cut off by a soft hiss when Shay sheathes himself fully into him. “- and all for which we stand?”
“I do,” groans Shay. Deeper and deeper inside he pushes until his cock is brushing against Haytham’s sweet spot, their foreheads touching.
“Never to share our s-secrets, nor divulge the true nature of our work?”
“I do.” Shay pulls back and slams back in, grinning wolfishly when the sacred oath comes out of Haytham’s mouth quicker, a drunk murmur in the haze of his feverish pleasure.
“A-And to d-do so until death - whatever the cost?”
Shay kisses the edge of his mouth. “I do,” he breathes into his skin, his voice melting with lust. He thrusts again and again, his eyes fixed on Haytham’s own. It’s an entirely unique kind of pleasure to see a man like Haytham come undone like this. Shay watches in awe and reverence as Haytham’s face is twisted into a wanton mask, his husky voice broken and sweet as more sounds are fucked out of him.
“Then we welcome you into our fold, brother.” Haytham spits the words out hurriedly. Shay laughs - he’s gonna say the whole fucking thing. Always the one for proper etiquette, even when he’s shitting on tradition. “Together…oh, God…Together we will usher in the dawn of a new world, one defined by o-order and pu - ah! - purpose.”
With shaky hands, he slips the ring onto Shay’s finger. He holds Shay’s face in his hands, gazing into his eyes. Shay keeps pounding into him, the look in his eyes adoring. “You’re a Templar, now.” Their hands reach for each other in desperation, exploring and hugging tight enough to evaporate even the air between them. “May the Father of-”
Shay shuts him up with a deep kiss, stealing his words and his very breath. He smiles when he pulls away and sees Haytham’s small frown. “A thousand apologies for the disrespect, Grand Master. It’s just that I can’t get enough of you.”
Any protest dies in Haytham’s mouth as he’s fucked hard and fast. His cock bounces against his stomach, and he cries out when Shay wraps his hand around it and begins pumping in tempo with his thrusting. The headboard slams against the wall, the bed creaking under the weight and force of their coupling. A musky, heavy scent floats about the room, thick with their sweat. Shay licks and sucks on every bit of skin he can find while Haytham bites into his neck, his blunt nails raking down his back. His black hair sticks to his face, his lips, the very ones Shay can’t stop kissing.
“You belong to us now,” he hisses with satisfaction. “To me.”
His ankles lock behind Shay’s hips and he pushes him deeper inside of him. The stretch is just divine, the pleasure of it just right to blunt the soft pain. Every thrust is perfectly placed, aiming at that little spot that makes him lose it little by little. He’s aware of how debauched he must look but he can’t find himself to care about anything when he’s with Shay. Blue eyes meet brown and Haytham cries out as he climaxes over his own belly and Shay’s fist. His lover doesn’t stop, fucking him through it, milking him to the last drop. He’s rough and faster than before, fucking him in a frenzy. His strong arms push Haytham’s thighs farther apart, allowing him to bury himself as deep as deep can go when he cums with a guttural groan of Haytham’s name.
Silence falls over the room like a thick blanket, interrupted only by their heavy breathing. Shay looks down at Haytham, admiring his gorgeous form. The Grand Master is a handsome man, but Shay considers himself truly privileged for being able to witness his beauty at its rawest form. His lips are pink from all the kissing, his neck decorated with red and purple spots, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Slowly, Shay pulls out. The sight of his cum dribbling out of the other man’s hole makes him shudder.
“Pretty,” he mumbles, using two fingers to push it all back in. Oversensitivity has rendered Haytham quiet and pliant. He watches with glassy eyes, moaning quietly as Shay pushes his fingers in and out of his tender insides. “I could do this for days. I could have you until there’s nothing left of you and still I wouldn’t be satisfied.”
“Shay...Oh, Shay...” Haytham calls out to him in desperation. He can only whine and quiver as another orgasm is finger-fucked out of him, his cock sputtering weakly as his whole body convulses with raw pleasure.
Shay collapses on the bed next to him, gazing at him from behind a curtain of disheveled hair. Haytham reaches over, brushing it out of his eyes. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Let me see.” Shay gives Haytham his hand, both of them admiring the ring. It seems to absorb what little light is in the room. “Suits you.”
Shay hums. “Fucking the Grand Master isn’t part of the induction ceremony for everyone, right?”
Haytham snorts and bursts into laughter. Shay’s heart swells at the sound. “Afraid not. Consider it special treatment.”
“Much obliged, sir. And good to hear, because I really couldn’t imagine you and Charles Lee-”
“Shay!”
“As much as he’d love to, to be honest.”
“Shay Patrick Cormac!”
“You know he does!”
Haytham shakes his head, refusing to entertain this stupid conversation any further. Still, he laughs. He takes Shay’s hand, idly playing with his fingers. “Technically,” he begins, “you’re still part of the Brotherhood. You need to end this by the time Liam O’Brien returns.”
Shay nods, saying nothing. They stretch their linked hands toward the ceiling, their rings aligned. He tries to think of Liam, of their home he’s abandoned for months now, of the life they used to share. He turns to the side, looking at Haytham. In his heart of hearts, he knows that part of this is wrong. But no matter how hard he tries and begs, he can’t bring himself to care.
“Are you using me, Haytham?”
“A little bit,” admits Haytham. He props himself on his elbow, his other hand resting on Shay’s chest. “You are very good. I’m not entirely sure you’re even aware of just how good you are.” His fingers trace idle shapes, feeling the hard muscle. “And I want you, Shay. I want you like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. I want you for the Order and I want you for myself.”
Shay strokes his cheek tenderly, his gaze soft. “Thank you for the honesty.”
“You…” Haytham clears his throat. He’s avoiding Shay’s gaze like a misbehaving child, or worse, a teenager in love. It’s with some satisfaction that Shay realizes he, too, has a strange effect on Haytham. “You’re a good man, Shay. It saddens me to say this but there seems to be a shortage of those in the Order. I, myself, am an example.”
They’ve had this conversation countless times before, in several forms, as well. Usually, Shay would reassure Haytham of his own goodness. Haytham is good in a way that’s entirely unique to him. There’s kindness and caring and devotion, but not niceness and a sweeping cruelty that obscures his best qualities. In times like these, it’s easy for Shay to notice it.
He brushes a lock of hair behind Haytham’s ear. “I’ve burned all my bridges for you,” he mumbles. The realization bears no weight, the admittance of it doesn't either. Achilles, Hope, Liam. Their faces pass through his mind but he can’t remember what they looked like, can’t recall the sound of their voices. There he stands, alone with Haytham, away from everything he's ever known and unable to feel anything other than relief and hope.
“Just us now,” says Haytham, taking hold of Shay’s hand that’s caressing his face and bringing it to his lips. He shifts, moving to straddle Shay’s hips. Slowly, he impales himself on Shay’s half-hard cock, the two of them sighing with the same breath. His hands roam over the expanse of the other man's chest, his lips curve with a sly smile. Shay's hands glide over his hips and Haytham reaches for them, holding him as he begins to move his hips along that gorgeous length. “Better make it worthwhile.”