Bootlicker

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Malik struggled against the ropes that bound his one arm to his side and glared up at Altair, horribly aroused. A lesser man would have burst into flame at his glare, but Altair just smirked at Malik’s bound and kneeling form. Malik looked absolutely delectable, his one arm pinned to his back, his wrist connected by a length of rope to the cords wound around his neck, preventing him from struggling; the ropes were already uncomfortably tight. His feet were tied together with rough rope and his pants were tenting from his arousal. His ankles were already reddening from the chafing.

Walking around him, Altair let his fingers trail across Malik’s skin as he inspected him like a piece of meat. His skin was covered in love-bites and hickeys from their previous times together. Two lips were already swollen and bruised from the fierce kissing the two had been doing before Altair had managed to put Malik in this embarrassing position.

Coming back around to his face, he traced the older man’s stubbly jaw before pulling back his hand and backhanding Malik across the mouth hard enough to make him fall on his side. His stump gave a throb of pain as he landed on it, and he tasted blood in his mouth, but he refused to give Altair the satisfaction of making him cry out.

A boot pressed down on the side of his face. “So, Malik,” murmured Altair, “I thought you said that you were going to take me like a woman earlier this morning.” The boot began to grind Malik’s face into the dirt floor of the bureau. “I almost find it amusing that you actually thought that I was the woman in this relationship.” Pain began to build as Malik’s jaw creaked under the pressure that Altair was exerting. “Do I have to remind you who the man is in this relationship?”

The pressure thankfully weakened and disappeared after a moment more. “I think I do,” Altair continued silkily. Malik struggled to his knees as Altair jumped up slightly to sit on the bureau’s desk and crossed his legs like a woman, leaning back. One dusty, brown leather boot was extended slightly until it was nearly touch Malik’s lips. “I’ve been walking around Jerusalem all day, Malik,” Altair said, “my boots need a good polishing.” Malik’s nose wrinkled at the thought. It was dusty enough in the Holy Land; he didn’t need to lap it off of someone’s boots to taste its grit on his tongue. Glaring up at the seated man, he muttered rebelliously, “Like hell I’ll lick your boots. I’m not like you and the Master.”

Altair smirked again and slipped off of the bureau. “Really?” he said pleasantly as he walked behind him. Malik tensed up. Altair only acted pleasant when he was about to do something horrible. He was right. Behind him he heard clothes rustling and the loud thud as Altair’s belt fell to the floor. The red sash was then draped over his eyes and tied painfully tight. Malik was no longer able to see what Altair was doing to him.

A hot, muscular chest pressed up against his back. Two clever hands attacked Malik’s body. One drew lazy patterns on his chest, slow loops that dipped teasingly close to his hardness and flicked at his hardened nipples, eventually settling on playing with one nubs. The other slowly undid his pants’ lacings and teasingly drew out his swollen cock, giving it a few playful strokes. Malik’s hips twitched helplessly, silently begging for more.

The hand that had been toying with a nipple gave it a final twist and drew away, moving up to his lips. A rough thumb brushed lightly against Malik’s full lips, gently tugging down the lower one. Hot breaths from behind tickled an ear before a hot, wet tongue slowly dragged itself along its edge. “You won’t help a hard-working assassin clean his equipment?” Altair breathed into his ear before dipping in his tongue and making Malik squirm with pleasure. “You’re not a very good dai, are you?” This was punctuated with a rough tug and a twist at the head of Malik’s cock. A whimper escaped his lips and he bucked into that skilled hand. Altair’s full lips sucked wetly on an earlobe. Sweat from both the heat of the day and the younger man’s attentions dripped down Malik’s temples.

Altair’s fingers dove into Malik’s mouth, meeting no resistance. He sucked on them feverishly, swirling his tongue around them and trying to give Altair a hint of what to do with the hand on his cock. Malik’s dignity had fled like all the other times the moment Altair’s hand landed on his dick.

Suddenly, too suddenly, those hands and wet tongue left him, only to return to quickly pull out the string that had held his pants closed and wrap it around the base of his cock. It was quickly knotted tightly, stopping Malik’s orgasm in its tracks. A cry of loss escaped from his lips as the body behind him stood up and walked around to his front. He had been so close to finishing!

He heard a low chuckle and the sound of cloth shifting as Altair sat down again on the bureau’s desk. Again, the tip of a boot was pressed against his lips; this time, however, Malik needed no urging. Softly and reverently, he kissed the toes of the boot. Altair didn’t need to speak, Malik knew the deal. Just a little submission and he could get that damn piece of string off and his cock back in that incredibly skilled hand. It didn’t take long before kisses were replaced by long wet licks and for drool to start dripping down Malik’s chin, soaking his stubbly beginnings of a beard. The sound of his lips smacking together echoed throughout the bureau as he switched to the other foot. Wet, open-mouthed kisses were placed along the sole of the foot, moving up to Altair’s ankles. When Malik pulled back for air, a string of saliva kept him connected to the tough leather.

“Enough,” Altair finally said. His voice held the slightest quiver. Malik immediately ceased and spread his legs eagerly for his reward, his cock jutting out proudly. A low laugh above him sent shivers down his spine. “Quite the slut, aren’t you, Malik?” he murmured amusedly.

A hand cracked across Malik’s face, making his teeth rattle and reopening the cut in his cheek. Despite himself, his hips twitched forward. Precum dripped onto the floor. Altair gave another long, low laugh. He slapped him again and again, until Malik could barely think. All he could concentrate on was the pain and the steady throbbing of his cock that begged for relief. Finally, the beating stopped. Altair’s boot nudged Malik’s still-swollen dick. “Such a slut,” Altair murmured, “such an eager little slut.” There was the sound of Altair undoing his own lacings, and then something hot and hard pressed against his lips. “Here’s a reward for being such a good little whore.” he jeered.

Altair forced his turgid shaft through the barrier of Malik’s lips and down his throat, choking him with his girth. Malik’s nose was buried in the hair that surrounded Altair’s cock. He struggled to breathe, his throat working frantically andd Altair’s musk filling all of his senses. Finally, just when he was about to pass out, Altair allowed him to move back. He coughed as strings of saliva snapped free from Altair’s cock and plastered themselves to his chin. Said cock was slapped against his cheeks, leaving a mixture of precum and drool behind as it dove down Malik’s throat again.

Altair began to fuck Malik’s throat, forcing himself in deep every time and choking him, reminding him of who the real boss was here. Despite the abuse he put Altair through when he visited, part of Malik always remembered how Altair could tear down his walls any time he wanted to, and how he could take Malik so hard he couldn’t breathe or remember his name. Malik found his throat relaxing and welcoming its master, his tongue lapping at its head when it pulled back to allow him air, enjoying the bitter taste of precum.

Finally Altair pulled out and didn’t immediately push back in. The wet sound of foreskin moving and Altair grunting warned Malik of what was coming. Obediently, he opened his mouth and waited for Altair to cum. He didn’t have to wait long. There was a drawn-out moan as ropes of salty cum splattered across Malik’s face, only a few strands landing in his mouth. The rest landed on his nose and chin, stinging his reddened skin. What little found its way into his mouth, he swallowed eagerly and licked his lips.

Altair grabbed the rope, chafing terribly against Malik’s skin and breaking it some spots, and pulled him to his feet. He eagerly kissed the older man, nipping and slipping his tongue through his lips and tasting himself as his hands roamed Malik’s body. Each touch made his body burn, despite his clothing. Eventually those wicked hands settled on pushing his pants down and playing his ass. Malik whimpered as each squeeze and slap rubbed his neglected erection against Altair’s rough clothing.

Altair broke off the kiss and dragged Malik over to the desk, pushing him onto his front and scattering the remaining maps on the floor. Malik’s hips twitched fruitlessly, searching for friction. He felt his coat and the tail of his shirt being lifted up, exposing him to the world. He groaned at the thought and rolled hips.

He froze as heard the unmistakable sound of Altair’s short sword being unsheathed. Cold steel was placed on the inside of his thigh, making him jerk slightly from the contrast with his fevered skin. It slid up his thigh and stroked along the side of his shaft before moving to his balls, tight and probably purple in colouring at this point. Hefting them on the side of the blade, Altair laughed. “Look at you,” he teased, “not even a knife to your dick can make you go soft.” He kneeled down to give his balls a quick kiss. A sob burst through Malik’s lips. He was so hard!

Still caressing the insides of his thighs with the dagger, Altair kissed first one ass cheek, then the other. Lightly kissing, sucking and biting, he slowly worked his way down to Malik’s asshole. The first long lick across the tight muscles caused Malik’s hips to roll back, pressing desperately. He could feel Altair smirking at his desperation, but he didn’t care as long as that tongue kept licking him! He shouted incoherently as the tongue entered him and wriggled. If he hadn’t had that ribbon tied around the base of his cock, he would have cum right then and there.

The cold of the blade and the wet heat of the tongue left to be replaced by the warm handle pressing against his entrance. Malik bucked, trying to impale himself, anything to finish! Altair obliged him and pushed it in quickly, not waiting for him to adjust. Malik groaned and began to fuck himself on the handle, getting it to brush against a particular spot inside of him. The younger man didn’t need to move a muscle as Malik’s feet scrabbled, trying to brace against something so that it could be forced in deeper. Altair was watching him fall to pieces and he didn’t care.

Finally, Altair took pity on the older man and removed the tie around the base of his dick. Malik’s back arched as the handle nailed that one spot in him ruthlessly and he came, screaming Altair’s name as darkness swallowed him.

* * *

Malik awoke to find himself lying on his back on Altair with his head pillowed on his chest and having the feeling massaged back into his arm. The soft, overstuffed pillows were piled up against the wall, keeping them half-lying, half-sitting up. An affectionate kiss was placed on his temple.

“A knife?” Malik finally managed to say. He felt Altair shrug behind him. “You said you liked it rough. You’re just lucky I stopped short of actually cutting you. I really thought about it when you said you’d take me like a woman.” Malik grumbled. “Still, did you have to nearly chop my dick off?” he questioned, craning his head to look up at the man behind him. Altair leaned in and stole a kiss. “You enjoyed it,” he said, grinning, and stopped massaging Malik’s arm. Wrapping his arms around Malik, he kissed the top of his head. “If you really feel that strongly about it,” he whispered in his ear, “you can do it to me next time.” Malik grasped the hand around his chest and leaned back mollified. They enjoyed the remaining afternoon sunlight in each other’s arms.