men

These past couple of days had been frustrating - to say the least.

It began with an Assassin meddling in your plans, to your warehouse being set on fire, to losing half your men. It was ridiculous. You had armies, men who trained years for this, to fight for this and one singular man was taking them out! It didn't make sense, this Assassin - even the word on your tongue made you feel sick - he was trained far better than any man you come across. And what made it worse? Is that you knew he were coming for you, that he was going to kill you. You had spent weeks hiding behind others, unable to face him, losing yourself to the idea that death could be accompanied with any overturned table or broken in window.

The past months had been damning, the revolution which was carried on this Assassin's back was going to be your downfall. And damn to him! Damn to the cause! You wanted him dead, paced your bedroom everytime, flinched at every shadow that passed your window. He was driving you mad. The men suffered the worse, while death was their biggest enemy, they dealt with your madness. Your peril, the way you shouted at them, ordered them to do things that began to not make sense.

You felt sick with nausea as you ran down the alleyway, boots hitting muddy cobblestone which caused you to slip each turn you took. Your heart was in your throat, your lungs ached for some rest. But he kept a steady pace behind you, tailing you, mocking you. He did not chase on foot, no, he hopped from rooftop to rooftop; watching you closely, predicting each turn you would take.

"Someone kill this man!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, man quickly pushing themselves off their post to come to your defence. And while you ran, you took a fleeting look over your shoulder. Watched the men raise their muskets, only to be struck down with an arrow or tomahawk that went piercing through the air.

This man was going to kill you, whether it be today, tomorrow or the day after that. It was going to happen today.

Everything in you screamed to stop, to give up, to let your legs rest or worse - just beg for mercy already. How could you? You had spent months devoting yourself to this cause, to the Templars, proving that despite being a woman, power and a little money got you everywhere. Why couldn't this Assassin be merciful? Why could he not spare your life and allow you to live another day?

Quickly, you shot around the corner, foot just slipping as you quickly steadied yourself on a wall and continued down toward the docks. The next ship will carry you home, you'll live, forget about him, forget the order. Maybe you'll settle down, have children, forget about the pain and suffering you inflicted onto others. Another look back, he was hot on your tail and this time; he ditched the rooftops. He was faster than you, pushing past people that you threw his way.

The docklands had always been full of your men, men who devoted their lives to you and the cause; some unknowingly than others.

"Get this man!" you choked on your words, barely able to force them out as you steadied your breathing and it was there, more men emerged.

He was outnumbered. You knew this, he knew this and with a quick spin on your heel, you doubled over to catch your breath. Soldiers stood before you, others on rooftops with muskets raised. It was a trap, it had always been, he was too blind to see that and god, you played the helpless act ever so well.

"Hah," you began with a chuckle, shaking your head and glancing up from the strands of your hair. "You Assassins," you waved a hand in his general direction. He wasn't paying attention, why would he? He was counting how many men there were, feeling the weight of the tomahawk in his hand. "You never learn, do you? You just walk right into it. It's pathetic, really."

The hooded man stepped forward and more muskets raised.

"Oh, now, boys," you chuckled, pressed your gloved fingers to your lips and made a motion with your hand. "Don't shoot him," you sighed gently, pressing your hands to your hips. "I want him locked up." Then, with a firm nod to the man nearest your left, a group of men began bustling their way toward him. The Assassin counted well, waited for them to draw nearer and then metal began to clash with metal. Admittedly, watching the thing set out before you was mesmerising, the way he moved, the flurry of robes, a spin, slice and one was dead. Whoever trained him was somebody that made you fear him most.

Another spin, turn, dodging a bullet and then he jumped up, allowing his tomahawk to connect with the skull of another. He was dropping your men like flies, as if they were nothing but vermin and admittedly, you felt a little nervous.

Then another man dropped to the floor with a yell and now, you didn't like this. With a snarl, you turned and your fist connected with the nearest soldier beside you. Another man with a higher ranking than the others - hence why he stood so close to you.

"I want that man alive," you snarled before bundling up his uniform and pushing him out toward the small circle where the battle continued. "Somebody bring me that man alive!"

More soldiers began to move, boots against cobblestone and despite losing about four to six men, he was suddenly restrained. The Assassin snarled, his tomahawk ripped from his hands, his arms held securely behind his back and it was there he dropped to his knees. You wanted to laugh, to cheer, to clap your hands; but all you could do was grin. There was nothing that satisfied you more - a man on his knees.

Pushing past men that surrounded him, you approached cautiously. He was rather casual about this, not fighting back, just letting it happen. Almost like he knew that this was a better scenario than any, that this was how he'd get close to you, to kill you and you were plain blind to that.

"It's just you, isn't it?" you asked, shooting a few glances up at the rooftops above. From what you knew, he was the one who caused you all that damned trouble. The only Assassin you knew of, the white and blue robes. Quickly, you shot a hand up and yanked the hood off his head. Ah, yes, it was him. His glare was unmoving, his brows furrowed with a thin layer of sweat coating the top of his forehead. "You're the one who set my warehouse on fire, hm?"

You could have sworn you saw a small smirk in the corner of his lips, but it disappeared as soon as it came.

"Your control here is over," he remarked and you laughed, you actually laughed.

"Over? You are a man on your knees before me, are you not? Do you not see?"

"I think it is you that cannot see. The people have spoken."

"I do not care about people," you spat, stepping closer to him. His gaze remained unmoving, full of hatred, passion, fight for a man who seemed to have so little. As you stepped closer, he jerked and instinctively you flinched, cowering how he wanted you too and you were quick to scoop up the mask that slipped. The last thing you wanted was your men knowing how utterly terrified you were of this man. "Take him away and lock him up, with security! If I lose this man, I will have your heads."

Then with that, he was hauled to his feet. It took four men to ensure he remained captive, that his arms remained behind his back. He towered over you, over the men and yet, he allowed them to escort him to the nearest cell where you'd deal with him later.

"Boss will be happy to hear you've caught him," one of the generals spoke, approaching you. You couldn't help glancing over your shoulder, noticing that his gaze remained on you until he was forced around a corner.

"Mmh, yes," you hummed softly, lost in thought all over this Assassin.

-

The cells were dark, cold and it smelt damp. The walls were wet, so was the cobbled flooring, either from rain or piss; yet you didn't care to find out. Two men accompanied you down there and as you stepped further down, you knew that he was held in the cell further down than most. He had four guards posted there, swapping rotation each twelve hours. The reports back to you about him didn't surprise you much. At times he was aggressive, others he was quiet. As you stepped down the final step, you saw the cell to your left and each guard around you nodded their head out of respect. It seemed he knew of your arrival, already stepping close to the bars to glare at you through them. His arms remained behind his back, wrists chained with heavy metal that had to have rubbed his skin raw with each move he made.

"Leave me with him," you ordered and respectfully, most of the men looked around in confusion. "Do you not understand? I said leave me with him!" The command was simple enough and they nodded, moving to hurry past you. The gate keeper himself passed and it was there you plucked the key from his belt before hearing the doors above the staircase close.

A silence settled between the both of you, his shoulders seemed more relaxed upon being here alone and slowly, he approached the bars again. The chains rattled with each step he made and it was enough to make you cringe.

"Oh, Connor," you sighed gently, approaching the bars to quickly push your hand up between the gap, caressing his cheek slowly. He nuzzled into it like a cat and your heart broke.

Playing an act was easy, you see? Climbing up Templar ranks, infiltrating their systems, their meetings, gathering information behind their backs to feed to him. But you hated this, hated seeing him hurt, hated pretending that you hated him when the both of you knew that wasn't the case. The Templars welcomed you with open arms, praising you for being a woman, for your work, for betraying the Assassins; both you and Connor knew that wasn't true. You wished nothing but to end your task here, to go back with him, to put your own robes on and help him fight - not allowing him to do it alone.

"Did they hurt you?" you whispered, checking over his face for any sign of injury. Connor only shook his head, but he always did that - downplayed everything as to not worry you. You weren't stupid.

"I am fine," he replied, moving his head to press his lips against the palm of your hand. Admittedly, you wanted to cry.

"I cannot do this anymore," you admitted, choking on words already and he was quick to catch your gaze, bending down just a little to match your height.

"Yes, you can," his words were reassuring, kind and yet stern. Though it was hard to believe them, hard to imagine more days without him. To live with these men, who drooled over you.

"When will this be over?"

Connor's face said it all. He didn't know and for once, he felt stuck. He wanted to know, wanted to give you answers, to reassure you. But how? Burning that warehouse had proved efficient, yes, but how long did you have to stay in the hands of men he did not trust? He knew and acknowledged how hard this must be for you, but for him? To watch you out there, with men that could easily break your secret apart. Even he knew you shouldn't be here.

So, he just pressed another kiss to your palm. It was worse than the truth, than knowing that even he didn't know and yet it reassured you.

"It's difficult, pretending to hate you," you admitted with a soft smile, meeting his gaze after blinking away the tears that you wished to shed. You felt his smile touch the palm of your hand.

"Yet, you play the act well."

It was hard to not allow your heart to swell at his words, hard to not just give up the act right there and then. Everything in you screamed to just release him, to give him the key; allow him to run. But the both of you knew that would only give away your intentions right there and then.

"He wishes to kill you," you began slowly, keeping your voice low as you glanced up at the stairwell. "Tuesday, that is the day of your execution." Connor bristled at your words just a moment, but allowed you to continue. "There will be a guard change on Monday, the gap will be great. Enough for you to escape." He nodded along to your words, already plotting his escape route. "There's a door to your left, up the stairs. It is not in use, the latch is broken. You can leave there, but this fortress is heavily guarded. Your weapons sit in a chest at the top of this stairway."

You gave him as much information as you could. Mentally putting the map of this place into his head, giving him each swapping of guard shifts, when was the most quiet, what days the men drank. All Connor could do was drink in the information you poured to him, exchanging a nod, a soft furrow of his brow before he sucked in a steady breath. It wasn't that he were particularly anxious, but he worried more-so on your part than anything else. His expression told you that, from the way his fingers ached to grasp something - your wrist or cheek?

"I see your worry, Connor," you remarked softly, feeling a tug of a smile twitch at the corner of your lips and upon hearing your words, he turned his chin away. He was always stubborn like that - though the both of you knew that you were more than capable of looking after yourself. You had managed this after all. Admittedly, you wanted nothing more than to just hand him the key and let him put a mark on you; though he'd never actually lay a hand on you at all.

"How will I be sure that you will be safe?" His words echoed in the dungeon like prison and for once, you could not provide a steady answer. You wanted to give a witty remark - something about how you'd made it this far - but was it a good idea meddling with your luck in such a way? "Where will I find you?"

"You won't," the words came out quick and you sucked in a breath of air, already feeling his stern eyes on you. "As far as these Templars are concerned, you and I are enemies. I will need to find a way to.. leave, without raising suspicion."

"Or I can just take you."

It was hard to not feel your heart flutter at his words, the idea of Connor lifting you up, throwing you over his shoulder and essentially kidnapping you in the eyes of the Templars. It would be hard to not act, difficult to imagine how wet that scenario had just made you feel.

"That won't be necessary, I am more than capable of looking after myself," your words made him cock an eyebrow, a questioning one and you could tell that he wanted nothing more than to remind you of the times where he had to save your sorry ass. Alright, you were getting cocky a little. You could see the urge on the tip of his tongue, reminding you of the time where he had to rescue you from a cell yourself, or the time he had to help you escape a sinking sink - one on which, you had demanded to board because you were certain your target was there. Which he actually wasn't and Connor's crew had sunk a ship for nothing. "Either way, you need to leave here before your execution. If you.." your words were cut off with a heavy breath of idea, the sudden idea of Connor perishing make a heavy ball of anxiety hit you square in the chest.

Before you could find yourself dawdling in the constant mess of worry, his hand slipped out from in-between the bars and caught your wrist just how you liked. His large fingers swallowing your wrist whole, fingers curling and his thumb poking and caressing just above your pulse point slowly. The motion made the chains rattle against the cobbled flooring and you cringed.

You could see from the dim lighting of the fire from the torch on the wall nearby, his wrists were red and oozing some sort of blood or fluid from the chains alone. They were so heavy, though you knew he were partly at fault with how much resistance he gave.

"When will this be over?" you repeated, more so to yourself than to him. Honestly, you weren't sure what 'this' was, was it the concept of this act? Or the fact that he was chained here? Or just the idea of Templars altogether? Either way, you just wished for none of it. That you and Connor could live a domestic life, with a child or two. He would be an amazing father, oh, you were sure of that. With a rustle of metal biting cobble, he moved and now his large hand enveloped the expanse of your cheek. He thumbed your cheekbone feverishly, wanting to offer some words but not having an answer himself. You relished in his touch, leaning into his thumb and palm of his hand which brought you more comfort than you could have ever imagined.

Connor moved, resting his forehead against the metal bars. It was an open invitation and with the specific look in his eyes, you noted that he wanted nothing more than for these bars to disappear. To close the distance between the two of you, to feel you - really feel you. In the ways he had done before you left for months on end to complete this gruelling task at hand. Even the simplest touch on your cheek reminded you of the last night you spent with him, a small camp by an embankment, riding his cock amongst blankets and furs in the small tent you both resided in. The way his hands guided you down, the way his eyes watched you carefully as you felt his cock slide between your slickness with ease.

Pushing forward, you press your lips against his though the bars did little to fulfil the want that lingered between the two of you. It was odd to feel such feelings toward him, to want him in such a way given the circumstances yet with the way his hand moved down and around your shoulder, toward your breast to give it an appreciative squeeze; you knew that the feelings between the two of you were mutual.

As soon as your lips connected, there was a soft groan that emerged from him and his hand slipped around to press against your lower back, urging you closer in a way that felt borderline feral.

"Connor," you spoke his name in a gentle warning, giving the situation; this was the last place where you wished to get caught.

"It's hard to be away from you," he admitted in a soft whisper, pushing his cheeks against the bars in a weak attempt to nuzzle his nose against your neck. He damned this barrier, damned this situation, the bars, the prison, the restraints - he damned it all in the back of his head because right now he wanted nothing more than your comfort. Not just your touch, your kisses, your words of praise as he nestled himself between your legs; he just wanted to feel you. It was achingly frustrating. Despite the bars of the cell creating an awkward distance between you both, you took the opportunity to shoot a glance back up toward the stairs. The men would have no doubt listened to your previous orders, yet the anxiety of someone lingering in the dark was a haunting idea that could not ease the weight off your shoulders.

Despite that, you were moving your hand between the bars to rest your palm on his chest. Everything beneath that thin layer of fabric felt taunt, barely contained restraint evident beneath each twitch of his muscle. A part of you couldn't help but wonder how he'd managed to survive this long without you, how he was head over heels for the idea of you and that wasn't just sex alone.

"Connor," you spoke his name again, brows furrowing as you tried to make some sense of what he wanted behind those pretty brown eyes. Tried to make sense in the way he looked up at you, the way he tilted his head as if he were mimicking the same actions as you; trying to understand.

The want and desire between the two of you was there, it lingered in the air between the two of you, making you curse at the notion of how desperate you were for the idea of him. And seeing him there, tied up? It didn't help but stir the ideas that began brewing in your mind, like, how long could it take for you to get him to cum with your mouth and tongue alone? If he was so pent up as he were putting it out to be, then surely it shouldn't take long at all? And after all, you enjoyed taking a little risk every now and again.

So, your hand moved. From his chest, down to his lower abdomen before your fingers slipped down between the fabric which hid his deliciously large cock from you. Of course he was already hard, that came to no surprise as you immediately hooked your fingers around his shaft and let his cock settle in the palm of your hand. Connor was the type of man to get hard over almost anything and everything - which was humorous at times.

"You shouldn't.." his words bled out into another shallow breath as you began to pump his cock slowly, exchanging your gaze between the stairway and his face; admiring how beautiful his flushed cheeks and parted lips looked in the shadow of the torch nearby. Of course Connor was going to try and stop you, but he made no motion for it - his hands were tied anyway. And just as he moved to grab at you - at anything - the chains gave out a large rattle and his body jerked a little at the sudden restriction.

The noise echoed out and for a moment, everything in you stopped as you quickly glanced back up toward the steps. The pumping motion on his cock however did not stop as you continued to give his cock the attention it craved, relishing in each noise and whine he made; to which he tried desperately to hold back.

"And if I want to?" you replied finally in a soft whisper, turning your chin back to him. His face was a mix of emotions, conflicted between 'what ifs' and 'don't stops.' Connor did what he did best, shot you a disapproving look despite how the look betrayed him in this moment and in response, you only raised your brows - as if asking him if you wanted to truly stop or not. His protest fell silent, as expected, and quickly you dropped to your knees before using the hand that once pumped at his cock to help strip him bare before you.

This time, Connor took turns in watching the stairs, his look switching from around the corner and the sight of you on your knees for him. It was filthy really, the floor, the idea of you sucking him off here and the fact that the pain around his wrists seemed to heighten the pleasure for him. He should be the voice of reason, to stop this before you were discovered but how could he? Not when you looked so beautiful on your knees, when you held his cock like it belonged in your hands all along and when your pretty lips suddenly wrapped around the tip of him like that?

Suddenly he groaned again, though this time through grit teeth as he tried to withdraw the urge to flutter his eyes shut. It was difficult to take the full length of him, given how hung Connor was and so you settled on suckling on his tip for the time being. You savoured his taste, slightly salty from pre-cum and sweat, giving you the information that he hadn't actually had much time to take care of himself given the act the two of you were supposed to be playing.

Slowly, you shot another glance up at Connor, watching and praising how beautiful he looked in this low light. His forehead rested upon the iron bars, using the coolness from the iron itself to help cool him; to help him try to will away this urge to orgasm. It had been too long and everything felt tight, from his muscles to his lower abdomen and he cursed at this. Cursed being tied up because he wanted to have every way with you, to make you feel as good as you were currently making him.

His lips hung agape as soft words flowed from between them, words you couldn't make out because he wasn't voicing them openly; each word getting stuck in his throat with each lick and suck you provided his cock. You savoured his taste, wanting to let it linger in your mouth so you could never forget him, never forget these beautiful features. The way his brows would furrow gently, or lift almost in surprise - or the way his fingers twitched, his mouth would close and open like a fish out of water. He'd always looked good, whether it be in battle or with his cock in your mouth, but honestly you favoured the latter the most.

Your hand that wrapped around his shaft began to pump at him slowly as you pushed your mouth down further, allowing your tongue to caress that one vein that hid itself beneath the skin of his shaft. That one vein had always been sensitive, even more now as your tongue gave it the attention it craved, earning Connor a sharp inhale of air as if to steady himself.

"Wait," he urged through grit teeth, his hand moving again to reach for your locks, though it suddenly jerked in mid-air from the restraint of the chains. You wanted to continue, yet with sluggish movement, you peeled your lips away from his cock; not before leaving one soft kiss upon his tip. Connor's chest was rising and falling rapidly for a man who had done little, his fists closing and opening as he tried to steady his knees - they felt as if they were about to fail him. It was strange how you had such an effect on him, how your mouth could make him feel and think such things. Everything in him wanted you, wanted you to pull down your own fabrics, bend over and allow him to fuck you through the bars of this cell. These thoughts felt awful given the circumstances and he couldn't help but cringe at how much of a man you truly made him feel.

"I'm- I was going-" he stumbled over his words, almost as if he forgot how to speak English for a moment and you watched each twitch of his brow as he tried to mentally translate the right words. It was hard to not feel smug, to not feel an inch of pride upon knowing how good you made him feel.

"Oh?" you cut him off and his shoulders dropped, thankful that you did because he was making a fool of himself. Slowly, your hand began to move again, giving his cock slow and tortuous pumps. "You say that like it is a bad thing." He could hear your pride in your words, hear how smug you were with yourself and a part of him wanted to shoot you a glare. It was hard not to, but he wanted to feel you again, wanted to decorate your mouth with his seed; so he only turned his chin away from you.

Then, once again, your lips reconnected with his cock and you took him more than you expected. You'd never been able to take him fully, last time the urge to gag and throw up overwhelmed you; so you'd both come to this agreement that he wouldn't push you to take what you couldn't. Releasing your hand from him, you allowed your mouth to carry most the weight. Your tongue held the bottom of his cock, while your cheeks hollowed in with each suck you gave. As much as you wanted to savour this moment, to let it continue until he were nothing but a weak, trembling mess, the risk of getting caught was too great. You daren't think about what the guards reaction would be upon stumbling upon you with your enemies cock in your mouth. So they thought, anyway.

Each time you bobbed your head on his cock, you felt his hips tremble. Coming up halfway to meet your mouth, thrusting just gently to help run that vein along the expanse of your tongue. Your mouth was so warm, so wet, that it was a delight to essentially fuck up right into your mouth like this. Even when he were chained up like some criminal, it only added more fuel to the fire that burned in his chest.

You had always taken great pleasure in sucking him off. You relished in each reaction, each noise, how he squirmed beneath you much like you did whenever he drew you to an orgasm yourself. Just watching him, feeling him twitch and throb in your mouth, it stirred your own want. You wanted nothing more than to have him take you, to feel him burrow himself deep within your walls until you were squeezing yourself around him helplessly. Connor had never made you see stars, but with his cock inside you, he brought you to an orgasm quicker than any other man had. It was hard to not take any opportunity to pounce on him, whether it be whenever you were both on business - like that one time in a tavern and you couldn't help but look upon his large hands, wondering how good his fingers would feel inside you. Or the one time he did finger you on horseback, letting you rest against his chest as his fingers pumped slowly from beneath the fabric of your pants. It was funny, really, because Connor had always seemed a man who never had much experiance with women in general. Yet, he were perfect. Perfect husband material and fucking material, you couldn't help but feel proud knowing that he wanted you and no other.

Your mouth worshipped his cock like no other, as he would have done with your pussy whenever he found his mouth wrapped around it. At this point, your jaw had gone slack, it ached and protested at his sheer size but you couldn't care. Not with the beautiful noises that now flowed between his lips. Soft grunts that were restrained behind his teeth, the way he would look at you and then force himself to glance away because just seeing you on the end of his cock like that made butterflies flutter in his lower abdomen.

And with how you were sucking upon him right now, that feeling only intensified. His hips continued thrusting in rhythm with your mouth and occasionally, you'd hear the chains clash about inside his cell. You knew he wanted nothing more to touch you and if he could, he'd rip the chains off their supports on the wall if he could.

"Iánere wáhi.." the words slipped out his parted lips, the words slurred as he tried to make sense of what he wanted to say, but frankly couldn't. "Ioiánere." It wasn't often he spoke his native tongue and it wasn't that he didn't feel uncomfortable speaking it around you, he just knew you wouldn't understand. In moments like this however? When he couldn't thin straight, it sent a shot of thrill down your spine and clit upon knowing how he openly spoke his native tongue to you. There was nothing you loved more when his mouth was muffled around your cunt and clit, speaking his tongue against your pussy in ways that vibrated against your clit, leaving you aching for more. What a man Connor was, sincerely.

Connor speaking his native tongue to you was a tell tale sign that he were about to cum, accompanied with the sloppy thrusts that his hips began to gave you. You felt how tight his cock had become, how tense it felt within your mouth as you continued to suck at him, giving your tongue some rest from the circular motion you would occasionally grace the tip of his cock with.

"I'm going-" his words were cut short completely as he suddenly gave out a loud grunt, his hips and lower abdomen twitching as you felt his warm seed fill your mouth and back of throat. It was warm, the quantity large as you tried to blink away rapid tears. It wasn't often you took him like that, hence why he gave you the warning, this time you just let your own lust consume you. You choked back each gag that wanted to come up, swallowing what you could until most of his seed began to travel down your chin and drip onto the cobbled flooring below.

Connor's cheeks were flushed, a red hue beneath his caramel cheeks as he gave out soft bursts of air, catching his breath to calm his spinning head. It had been too long since he felt an orgasm that intense, not even his own hand could provide such a feeling and admittedly, he wanted nothing more now to just give you the pleasure you had insisted on giving him. His eyelids fluttered as he caught his breath until finally his beautiful, chocolate eyes glanced down at you. You let his cock fall out your mouth with a satisfying pop before taking a chance to wipe your lips with the back of your hand. If only you could allow him to take a chance and fuck you, but alas, you knew you were stuck with just your own hand and fingers tonight.

As you pushed yourself back up to your feet, you helped make him decent once again. There was a gentle, awkward tension in the air, words you both wanted to say being left unspoken. Connor's hand moved, the chain rattled again and you heard the subtle snarl that came from him. He was just as tired of this as you were.

"Unchain me," he demanded gently, his voice undertone with a hint of want, pleading you to allow him this moment. You met his gaze, heart hurting with how much you wanted to.

"You know, I cannot." Your words made him reach again, the chain rattled as his hand was left hung in mid-air, wanting to reach out to touch you.

"Let us leave together, now."

"Connor," you tried to be the voice of reason now, your positions having swapped. You knew he wasn't thinking straight, not with the post-nut clarity that was now consuming his mind. He crouched down a little, just to meet your gaze and gosh, did your heart not hurt seeing those puppy-like eyes look up at you like that. "We must stick to the plan."

His eyes flickered from your left to your right and once again, his shoulders slumped a little in defeat. You were right, you always were right. Doing something now, something so rushed? It made no sense and would only put you in more danger than himself. Slowly, you reached out and took his cheekbone again, moving to press a desperate kiss against his lips.

"I will meet you again," you promised, words muffled against his lips as Connor chased your own for another kiss.

"Or I will find you." His words sounded like a threat and they would've to any other person, to you however? It brought a great deal of comfort and you couldn't help but give a soft giggle.

"I don't doubt you."