Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/968663.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Assassin's_Creed
  Relationship:
      Ratonhnhaké:ton_|_Connor_Kenway_&_Haytham_Kenway, Ratonhnhaké:ton_|
      Connor_Kenway_&_Original_Character(s)
  Character:
      Ratonhnhaké:ton_|_Connor_Kenway, Haytham_Kenway, Templars_(Assassin's
      Creed)
  Additional Tags:
      Attempted_Rape/Non-Con, Incest, Parent/Child_Incest, ConHayth, First
      Time, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional_Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-16 Updated: 2013-12-04 Chapters: 3/? Words: 2889
****** All Over Me ******
by PrettySami
Summary
     A trade with Jenovasilver!
      
     "A HC fic! I want Connor savaged by some fucking templar I want daddy
     Kenway to save his boy even though Connor killed the man. Bloody
     noses! Bruises! Then they do it! In the butt!”
      
     The heart wants what the heart wants! After a traumatic experience
     Connor ends up staying with his dad for a little while. Relationships
     grow and sex is had.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Connor was panting in the night air. His heart pounding in his ears as he
leaped overturned carts and ducked under carriages to avoid the persistent
Templar at his heels. He scrambled up the brick buildings, fingers still
somewhat unfamiliar with the strange surfaces.
This was meant to be a quick jaunt into the streets of Boston. A delivery for
Achilles, nothing more. It had all gone awry when he’d drawn the unwanted
attention of the Templar soldier. Connor couldn’t figure out for the life of
him why though? He cast about as he stole around corners and past bustling
shops, none of which adorned with a poster bearing his likeness. Not even the
nearby town crier was saying a thing about a ‘young native.’
Ah, an open window. Connor dove through startling the inhabitant (a woman
cradling a wailing baby) and exploded out the opposite window. He hit the
ground in a roll and rounded one last corner to an alley to ensure he was
hidden as he knelt to catch his breath.
Just like that, the wind was knocked out of him as a force slammed into him
from above. Connor made to struggle but the templar leaned down to whisper in
his ear, “Gotcha now, no need to struggle.”
Connor twisted but his hands were pinned behind his back, he could feel rope
binding his wrists. “There now,” the Templar said and Connor felt him sit up,
presumably to admire his handiwork. “That was a merry chase you sent me on! The
boss weren’t lyin’! You’re right quick you are!” He chuckled and wrestled
Connor over so that he was on his back.
Connor saw this as a chance to spit in his attacker’s face. The Templar jerked
away with a sound of disgust and immediately drew his fist back to deliver a
blow to the teen’s unprotected face. Connor felt his teeth rattle as his head
banged against the pavement. His vision swam and blood poured from
his—thankfully unbroken—nose. He uttered a curse in Mohawk.
The Templar tugged Connor roughly to his feet pulling his hands high over his
head. Connor guessed there had to be a hook or something there because suddenly
his attackers two hands were free; one was gripping his hair and the other was
cuffing his cheek. “Fiesty, ain’cha? Still…” the hand that hit him dragged
Connor’s curtains of black hair out of his face uncovering the freckled hybrid
skin beneath. “Th’ boss must see something in you. He might not mind…”
The Templar seemed to be talking himself into something. “Nothin’ wrong with
gettin’ a taste o’ wot you paid for…” The hand holding Connor’s hair traveled
to his chin. From his haze Connor could tell something was about to happen, he
just wasn’t sure what it was. It felt as though fingers were all over him,
undoing lacings, popping buttons, the hands gave up at his pants and simply cut
them away. “No,” Connor moaned and blood from his nose trickled down his lips.
The sound of his own voice made his head pound. The Templar shushed him and ran
fingers over the exposed flesh of his chest, fingering the nipples to their
full hardness. No, but this was wrong. Something horribly wrong was happening.
When the wet heat of a mouth closed over the side of his neck and the press of
a fully hardened cock nudged at his belly Connor began to struggle anew. Hands
were separating his legs. Greedy fingers searching for something…and they found
it. The unwelcome finger jammed inside Connor forced more words of Mohawk from
the boy’s unfettered lips but it wasn’t until he felt the press of something
more, the push of something much larger and more lubricated than a finger did
he seem to snap to his senses.
The man pulled back to grin at Connor who took the opportunity to smash his
face into that of the Templar. Then in an amazing feat of flexibility, Connor
kicked the man hard in the chin. He heard his skull crack as it hit the brick
wall opposite them.
There was a repetitive dull thudding. The abrupt physically exertion of killing
the man had been too much. The thudding grew louder…footsteps? Boots. Someone
was coming closer…
“Hm…” the voice didn’t sound surprised and Connor could just make out a blurry
patch of blue bending over the crumpled templar. “Well, really I suppose I
should’ve come for you myself.” The voice’s English accent was tinged with
exasperation and the face it belonged to came into focus for a moment.
“Father?” Connor whispered.
“So you know me? Let’s get you home,” Haytham was doing something to the
bindings holding his arms over his head and Connor blearily thought, home? as
the world dissolved around him.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Haytham had to drag his cape over the boy’s partially naked form as he carried
him, piggyback style, toward the large townhouse he had appropriated on the
outskirts of Boston. The boy was light (wasn’t Achilles feeding him?) he was
too gangly in some places to be a child but to round in others to be a man.
Let’s see, how many years ago had he seen Ziio…?
In his nostalgia, he nearly lost his footing on the fence he was running along
and leapt to safety just in time. Connor—though jostled—was still unconscious.
The dark haired head rested on Haytham’s shoulder. He took a moment to peer at
the boy’s slack face. His hair was surprisingly clean and free of decoration
save the braid that swayed while Haytham carried him; his skin tan and
freckled. This was his son. He had the sudden wild impulse to embrace the child
but ignored it, and continued on toward his home.
Upon their arrival, a maid greeted them at the door, offering to take Haytham’s
cloak and starting when she saw the boy’s head lolling over his shoulder. She
immediately began to fuss and tried to take him before the man shouted that
Connor was his son and shooed the silly woman away.
Haytham carried his burden up the stairs to his personal chambers and deposited
him onto his bed, taking a moment to stretch and remove his hat and coat. He
then pulled the tattered remains of the boy’s clothing from his form. The idiot
he’d sent to fetch his son had done a masterful job of making sure they were
beyond repair.
Haytham felt heat rising to his face. How lucky his lackey was that Connor had
dispatched him. Because if Haytham would’ve caught him alive…
“Mmn...” Connor moaned as his father tugged away a scrap of fabric from under
his thigh. He squirmed in his sleep. The boy was naked on Haytham’s bed and now
he could feel heat rising in his face for quite a different reason…he shook his
head as if to empty it of these thoughts. He went to the stand in the corner
that held the water pitcher and basin. He wet a cloth and set about wiping off
as much of the dirt and blood off of his son as he could; noting with some
pride that it did not all belong to Connor.
As the fabric was dragged over his skin, Connor continued to make little sounds
and soon Haytham had to stop whether the boy was clean or not. He fished a
night shirt from a drawer and dressed Connor in it. It was overlarge and
slipped from his shoulder. His full lips parted obscenely. Haytham laid him
back on the bed and leaned over to press their foreheads together.
This was his son. He remembered how the half-lidded golden eyes alighted on him
before they shut in the alley. He wondered if perhaps he should call a doctor
but no, the boy’s head was cool, his breaths even.
Haytham pressed a kiss to the slightly parted lips and Connor’s eyes opened as
he jerked awake.
His hands searched for a weapon that had been removed. Haytham pulled back
raising his empty palms to show he meant no harm. But Connor’s fist caught him
on the cheek, a glancing blow, and Haytham returned it out of pure habit. The
older man quickly restrained the boy, trapping his arms behind his back and
squeezing him in a bear hug hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
“Put me down!” came the strangled gasp. His nose had begun bleeding again and a
few red dots appeared on the collar of his father’s night shirt. Haytham made
an irritated sound.
“I’ll put you down only if you stop struggling! You’ll aggravate your head
wound!” indeed Connor was feeling dizzy and when his movements grew sluggish he
was lowered once more to the bed. “It seems you know I am your father…”
“Some father,” he said with a scoff and raised his knees so that his legs were
completely under the nightshirt. This left his ass-end almost completely
exposed, for the boy wore no underwear.
“I came to your aid,” Haytham said, calm but defensive.
“Too late!” Connor snapped back. “You came to my aid too late!”
“I’m not so sure…” Haytham said with a pointed glance at his son’s behind.
Connor blushed and tugged the shirt over his bits wiping his still bleeding
nose on his sleeve.
“Are you not the one who sent that-that-!?”
“Yes, but not to rape you!” Haytham nearly shouted. In his passion he had
jumped to his feet, almost upsetting the forgotten basin and towel. He returned
them to their proper place with a sigh. “I wanted a look at you. Only a look.”
He said over his shoulder.
Connor’s eyes grew round at the words and he absently lowered his feet back to
the bed and sat up slowly. Haytham turned at the sound of the bed clothes
rustling and saw the pouty yet resolute face. The golden eyes cast downward at
nothing in particular. “Look then,” he said quietly.
Haytham did exactly that, taking in everything from the now tousled hair to the
dusting of freckles including the ones on the exposed shoulder. His thighs and
legs were just as bronze as the rest of him and smallish hands twisted the hem
of the ruined night shirt. He blushed at the feeling of his body being
inspected thusly.
The assassin turned templar couldn’t stifle a chuckle and Connor’s blush
intensified. He turned his gaze onto his father once more. Haytham sat on the
bed beside him, gathering the boy in his lap, and earning a surprised yelp for
his efforts. He pulled his son close and smelled his skin, his hair. When
Connor allowed himself to relax he did the same. He raised a curious hand and
impetuously tugged the ribbon on Haytham's ponytail free and watched as the
hair fell to frame the man’s face.
“What were you doing,” Connor whispered, not breaking eye contact with his
father. “Earlier when I was asleep?”
“Only this,” Haytham butted his forehead to Connors like a cat would its
master.
Connor leaned into the physical contact and shut his eyes. Without thinking he
placed a kiss on his fathers’ nose. Haytham tilted his head back to capture the
boy’s lips.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry this one took so long! Nekocon, Thor 2 and Thanksgiving got in
     the way!
Connor’s eyelids drooped at the feel of his father’s lips upon his own. “Mmn,”
he breathed and threaded teenaged fingers through his father’s dark hair.
“Ah,” Haytham whispered into the boy’s open mouth. “Ah, my Connor.” He could
feel himself growing stiff. His cock was pressing through the laces of his
breeches and into Connor’s thigh. The boy had to feel it, had to know. And sure
enough, when he pushed himself closer to reach for more of his father’s kisses,
Connor froze at the feeling of hardness rubbing against his bare bottom. The
older man fought to stifle a tiny sigh, fingers tightening in his nightshirt.
Connor twisted suddenly to straddle and grind into his father. Haytham held him
at the waist and the boy leaned back and stared down at their laps, panting
open mouthed. Haytham tilted his son’s chin upward to look him in the eye and
reclaim his kiss-bruised lips.
He then reached between them and undid his belt and the laces holding his
breeches closed tugging himself free with an audible groan. Connor looked down
once more and Haytham watched his eyes widen. He squirmed to get a better look
and placed an inquisitive palm on the head of the thick flesh. He squeezed
experimentally and drew a grunt from his father, who thrust lightly into his
hand.
Connor’s own erection was tenting the nightshirt and he exposed himself
gingerly. He pressed his now-leaking cock to Haytham’s and really this was just
too much. The man lifted the boy suddenly and sat him on the edge of the bed.
He pushed Connor back at the shoulder forcing him to prop himself up on his
elbows to see what his father was doing. He had only a moment, however, before
the older man took his length into his mouth – swallowing him in one go. Connor
cried out and squeezed his thighs together involuntarily.
Haytham cupped his hands around the tops of his son’s thighs and devoured him
hungrily. Connor writhed under his father’s ministrations whining loudly and
unbidden. Haytham didn’t bother shushing him, he was busy turning his son into
a mewling mess with his talented tongue. His saliva ran down Connor’s balls and
on to more sensitive areas and Haytham didn’t hesitate to drag his finger over
Connor’s opening. The boy jerked but didn’t pull away. Good. Haytham was
worried the earlier events would’ve made him sensitive to this…endeavor. Yet he
still remained attentive, waiting to hear a ‘no’ or a ‘stop’.
Neither of which ever came. Connor sat up and buried himself ever deeper in his
father’s warm slippery mouth. He dug his fingers into his hair and keened when
he felt the tip of his cock tapping the back of Haytham’s throat. Haytham
pushed a second finger into his son. He was so tight. He moaned at the mere
thought of it and pulled his mouth away with a lewd sound. He glanced into
Connor’s flushed face, taking in his tousled hair and the cinched up
nightshirt. His mouth hung open and he breathed heavily squeezing his eyes shut
when Haytham eased in yet another finger.
“Please,” Connor begged.
“What?” Haytham whispered, lazily drawing his tongue over Connor’s inner thigh.
“Please what?”
“I don’t, I just—“ Connor pushed forward, fucking himself on Haytham’s fingers.
The older man’s cock twitched at that. The flat expanse of the boy’s stomach
tightened and a drop of precome drooled onto it. “Oh,”
Haytham pulled his fingers from Connor then stood to disrobe properly. (He even
draped his clothing over the back of a chair.) He pulled a small vial of oil
from a desk drawer and when he turned to the boy he found him stroking himself
lazily.
Haytham kneeled over Connor and batted his hand away, one foot still on the
floor. “Please,” Connor’s voice was equal parts whisper and whine. Haytham
spread on a liberal amount of the delicately scented oil and butted his slick
cock up to his son’s hole.
“Please what?” he asked as he bent to pepper his freckled cheeks with kisses.
“Please, inside…” and honestly that was all he need say. Haytham pressed
himself in as slowly as he could manage. Connor’s mouth opened in a silent cry
as he arched off the bed. Haytham closed his eyes and pushed in a bit more,
locking his mouth to his son’s. He really was trying to go slow. Really he was.
But Connor’s ass was so tight he was surprised he hadn’t come already. “Relax,”
he whispered into the kiss. Connor’s answering whine told him what he already
knew, “Easier said than done!” Haytham essentially crammed himself into his son
and then pressed their foreheads together while he waited for Connor to adjust.
The boy lifted his hips experimentally, pushing his father in deeper and almost
causing him to cry out. Connor huffed a laugh into Haytham’s neck causing the
man to raise a brow. This was the game they were playing, eh? Haytham angled
his hips and tapped that sweet spot deep within the boy. And Connor did cry out
to his own chagrin.
Haytham started a slow agonizing pace, shuddering every time he pressed the tip
of his cock into the bundle of nerves that made his son come apart beneath him.
Connor was so loud now that Haytham was sure he’d woken the entire wait staff
but he wasn’t entirely sure how much he cared. His vision was clouding as he
neared his end but the boy beat him to the punch coming lousily and messily on
Haytham’s chest and the nightshirt. The sight of him was enough for Haytham and
he filled the boy so thoroughly that drops of come squeezed out around his
softening manhood. He resisted the urge to flop down on his son in exhaustion.
Instead he gently pulled himself out and rolled onto the bed beside Connor
whose hand rested on his naked stomach.
Well, the lad really should stay for a few days, at least until he was back to
his full health.
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