Naughty Girls Get Spanked
Pairings: Assassin’s Creed 3: Haytham Kenway X Reader (female)
Summary: Haytham Kenway enjoys being in charge and takes full pleasure in disciplining you.
Warnings: Adult only, nsfw, NC17…blah blah blah, oral, spanking, fingering, sex
He has called you in to his study. He is the Grandmaster and the boss; you have no reason not to go. Standing in the dim, candlelit room, he paces around you, boot heels clicking softly on the hard wooden floor.
His posture is ridged, hands clasped firmly behind his back as he saunters around you. You don’t dare turn your head to follow him when he moves out of sight, but you can still hear the click of his shoes and his soft breathing.
Haytham is dressed neatly and formally, as usual. You notice he has allowed himself the luxury of removing his hat, something he does not often do, even when in doors. His dark ponytail is flecked now with grey, a few more lines around his mouth and eyes but he still has the speed and stamina of a man half his age. You swallow, memories creating a sudden pang of arousal throughout your body. God! You can certainly attest to his stamina.
‘You have been naughty.’ His voice is deep, rich; you can almost feel it caress your skin like a silk glove. Haytham appears back in your line of sight. ‘Nothing to say, hmmm?’
‘Um-‘ You trail off, wondering just what response he is looking for.
He smirks at you, the corners of his mouth rising ever so slightly. In one step he has closed any kind of distance between your bodies; you can now feel the hem of his long navy coat brush against your legs.
It is very distracting having him so close. You inhale deeply, slightly spicy cedar wood smell of him. You can feel the warmth radiate off his body. He barely raises his voice above a whisper, ‘Your behaviour has been…unacceptable.’
You clench, his tone a distinct threat. The back of his hand slowly rises and he caresses your cheek lightly. Long, elegant fingers caress down to your lips, thumb trailing over your bottom lip before he leans in to capture your mouth with his own.
You melt into his kiss, his mouth moving under you, lips firm and wet and full of passion. You can’t help your reaction; he has always been so damn attractive and arousing to you.
Haytham pulls away looking pleased with himself as your eyes flutter open, lips slightly parted. Smiling, you know what he wants, what he has called you here for and it has nothing to do with the Templar Order. You inch forwards, trying to close the gap, looking for another lovingly hot kiss but he pulls back further, a smugly arrogant smirk playing across his face.
‘I said you are in trouble.’ Turning his back on you, you watch those broad shoulders head further towards his desk. He casually glances back, tone playful, ‘You think you deserve a reward for such behaviour?’
You chance rebelliousness and aim for a flirty response, ‘Yes.’
The Grandmaster halts and turns fully, looking at you, amusement filling his eyes as a small smile plays across his lips. He enjoys your backchat and your independence, your playfulness with him.
You work well for him, for the Order, you know full well Haytham indulges you and only ever so occasionally decides it is time to pull you into line, to teach you a lesson.
Unbuttoning his jacket, he drapes it across the back of his chair, cool grey eyes never leaving you. You lick your lips and try not to squirm in anticipation, your brain crying ‘oh yes’, over and over in eagerness, knowing full well what is coming next. You love seeming him undress, watching him take off all those layers during the small intimate times you manage to spend together. Haytham never removes clothing unnecessarily; outside of your relationship he never so much as removes his jacket. Shirtsleeves indicate informality, a casualness that is unacceptable to him. He is the Grandmaster and never anything else, all others submit to him.
He surprises you by not removing any more clothing, instead sitting down in his desk chair, posture upright and formal.
‘Take your clothes off.’ It is not a request; his tone indicates nothing but command.
You blurt out before even thinking about it, ‘What?’
He raises one eyebrow in the most sinister way imaginable; the look he gives you is unimpressed.
‘There should be a “Sir”, in there.’
So this is where it’s going. He is in the mood to put you in your place. You make a small noise in your throat as you watch him slowly roll up the sleeves of his white shirt, folding them neatly up to his elbows, enticingly exposing muscular tanned forearms. You try again, a little breathy, ‘I’m sorry, Sir?’
Haytham cocks his finger at you, beckoning towards him, ‘Take your clothes off-you may leave your underwear on, for now-and come here.’
You hesitate, the fact he is telling you to take your clothes off suggests you will at least be getting sex tonight, but you wonder what he has planned before then, you aren’t even in his bedroom.
A loud sigh startles you from your contemplation, his voice sexually malicious,’ If I have to get out this chair, you are going to be sorry my dear.’
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