Malik Al-Sayf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notambidextrous) wrote2012-08-18 01:55 am
notambidextrous) wrote2012-08-18 01:55 am
the boys get lonely after you leave
It’s the night of his sixteenth birthday when a group of boys around his age sneak into his room to inform him that it’s time for him to finally lose his virginity. Malik ignores them at first, and turns to face the wall and continue sleeping. His dreams are much more preferable to the company of a woman right now, but the others don’t seem to be happy with that reaction. They pull the blankets and pillow from Malik and talk about how great it will be, how Malik shouldn’t pass up the opportunity just for sleep. He disagrees, tells them so, but they don’t listen. They just keep whining and pushing until finally Malik grumbles and gets out of bed. They’ve already picked out his clothes for him—only the standard Assassin robes, gray to show that they still only held lower ranked positions.
Malik sighs as he dresses and wonders why they were doing this. It’s not like Malik was very close with them or like he’d even expressed an interest in doing this. He had other things to focus on, other goals in mind. Sneaking out to go to the village’s brothel was not one of those goals.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we could sneak into Al-Mualim’s gardens and lay with one of his girls?”
“Don’t be stupid. We’d never get in there without being caught. Only Master Assassin’s get to be with them.”
“I know, but a man can dream, can’t he?”
“A man can, but someone as small as you can hardly be considered a man!”
Malik rolls his eyes when he hears them start to wrestle and he debates crawling back in bed and getting the sleep he so desperately needed. Training all day and studying all evening took a lot out of him and the last thing he needed was to sacrifice a night’s sleep for the whims of some childish boys that had no hope at all of ever getting promoted to the rank of a Master. He almost does it. He almost takes off all the clothes he’d just put on and crawls right back into bed, but the moment he begins unlacing the ties of his boots one of the boys who’d woken him up peeks into his room to see the progress he’s made on getting dressed, breaking into a huge grin when he sees that Malik has all his clothes on—shoes and everything.
“Hey, guys! He’s dressed! Let’s go!”
Malik can’t understand their excitement. Are they all planning to lose their virginities tonight, too? He doubts it. He doubts even half of this group of at least ten boys is planning on following him past the main gates. But they all pull him out of his room and through the castle, still talking about how lucky he is and how they wish they were turning sixteen so that they could have their chance at this, and how he needs to have a lot of fun for them since their chances won’t be for another few months. Malik knows this isn’t true for all of them, though. He remembers waking up at night to the sound of footsteps in the halls, each of these nights he knew to be their birthday nights. It was never a big deal with them—there was never any group formed to steal away the birthday boy and bring him to a brothel, never any whispers of “isn’t he lucky?”. But Malik supposes he really shouldn’t be surprised. Sneaking out on the night of one’s sixteenth birthday had become something of a tradition around Masyaf and while most of them were eager to carry on the tradition, Malik was not so enthusiastic. He’d much rather train or study or something else that didn’t involve sneaking out when they should have been in bed and everyone knew that. Everyone knew that he thought of this tradition as pointless that that is likely when they did this.
For a moment he thinks that maybe if he could just act a little enthusiastic about this they might leave him alone and he could run back to his room to get some more sleep, but he can’t muster up the energy to do that right now. And so the group continues to lead him through the gates (at which point many of them turn back just as he expected they would—they wouldn’t take the chance of getting caught sneaking out when they were supposed to be in bed, but obviously they could let Malik take that risk) and to the village. Malik scowls the entire way there. He can’t believe he let himself go along with this. He’s tired and annoyed and he just wants to go back but he’s here now and something in the back of his mind won’t let him go.
It’s the part of his mind that remembers he is still sixteen years old, still has all the urges that sixteen year old boys usually have even if he acts like he’s forty most of the time. It’s that part of his mind that keeps him curious, that keeps him following the boys to the door of the brothel and inside even when the others have remained outside. A few of them clap him on the back, tell him to have fun and all that, but Malik brushes them off with a roll of his eyes. He continues to act as though he’s indifferent to all this, like he’s only doing it so that they’ll all stop bothering him, but now he’s nervous. He’s nervous now because he realizes that for all of his grumbling and complaining on the way here, he really does want this and now that he realizes how much he wants it, he also realizes how little he knows of what he’s even supposed to do. He’s heard the basics, knows where everything goes, but when it comes to actually acting on those things he’s clueless.
Once he’s inside it becomes abundantly clear to everyone around that he’s never been to a place like this before. He just stands by the door, silently hoping that someone will come and help him get through this night without making himself look like a complete fool. Within moments there’s a woman approaching him and he thinks his hopes have been answered because she starts talking about how many other younger Assassins come here for their first time and he starts to feel a little better about his inexperience for a moment, but that’s all it is. After a moment all of the nervousness and awkwardness come rushing back because she’s taken him to a backroom and suddenly he is very aware of what’s about to happen. It’s almost funny, really. The idea of killing a man does nothing to him, but the idea of sleeping with a woman has him ready to turn tail and bolt back to Masyaf.
The thought occurs that maybe he should introduce himself, say something before all of this starts, but then she’s lying back on the pillows spread out on the floor, her dress hanging dangerously low, and his voice seems to fade away. She motions him over and he goes. His body is on automatic and it feels like he’s not even the one doing any of this. It almost feels like he’s just watching this from someplace outside of his body and the feeling doesn’t get any better when she’s touching him. No words are spoken and Malik finds that for all his complaining when someone talks a lot, he wishes someone like that could be here now. Words are something he can handle. This? This makes him feel far too awkward.
She undresses them both, a small smile that looks more like a smirk playing on her lips the entire time. The way he touches her shows her experience, shows that she’s been in this profession for more than a little while, and he feels inadequate compared to that. His own touches are fumbling, inexperienced, and awkward. He doubts the noises she makes are genuine—simply the practiced noises everyone in this profession knows how to make.
The rest of the night doesn’t go much more smoothly. She takes the lead and he feels embarrassed by that. As the man, he should be leading her, shouldn’t he? But he’s still too nervous and just knowing where everything goes has not helped him at all and even while she’s riding him and making those noises he knows are fake and twisting her face into rehearsed expressions he doesn’t lose his awareness of how terrible he must be to her. She is good. She is really good. But as good as she is, he can’t stop himself from overthinking everything just as he always does.
The act is quick and awkward and everything he never wanted it to be, but ultimately, he is satisfied. When he leaves the other boys are still waiting for him outside, some of them have fallen asleep, but most of them spring right up to their feet the moment he walks out of the building. They ask for all the details—what was it like? What did she look like? And Malik tells them everything they want to hear and everything that didn’t actually happen. He says nothing about his nerves; nothing about the way that she had to lead him in everything; nothing about how he’s made a list in his head consisting of everything he has to work on. When they get back there are still a few hours before they have to begin their training for the day they all head back to their own rooms to get as much sleep as they can, but when Malik gets to his room he finds that it isn’t as unoccupied as he might have liked at the moment. Instead, Kadar is sitting on his bed, fiddling with a stray thread on his sheets.
Malik sits next to him and neither of them says anything even though both of them know what Kadar wants to ask. It’s the younger brother that breaks the silence first, asking the same questions the others did when he came out of the brothel, but Malik doesn’t tell Kadar the same things he told them. Instead, he shrugs and waits a moment, trying to decide if he really wants to talk about this with his brother, but ultimately deciding to tell Kadar everything he didn’t tell the others. It feels strange to talk about this with Kadar, but he wants to tell someone the truth and Malik can’t think of anyone else he likes and trusts enough to tell all of this (certainly not Altair).
They talk for a little while after that, of things unrelated to the nights event until Kadar leaves his room with the comment “maybe it will be better next time” and Malik is glad for the chance to forget it. When he finally gets back to sleep he does dream of better experiences—experiences where he is taking the lead, where he doesn’t need someone else to tell him what to do and when the next time finally does come around, Malik is all too eager to fix the mistakes he had make the first time around.
Malik sighs as he dresses and wonders why they were doing this. It’s not like Malik was very close with them or like he’d even expressed an interest in doing this. He had other things to focus on, other goals in mind. Sneaking out to go to the village’s brothel was not one of those goals.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we could sneak into Al-Mualim’s gardens and lay with one of his girls?”
“Don’t be stupid. We’d never get in there without being caught. Only Master Assassin’s get to be with them.”
“I know, but a man can dream, can’t he?”
“A man can, but someone as small as you can hardly be considered a man!”
Malik rolls his eyes when he hears them start to wrestle and he debates crawling back in bed and getting the sleep he so desperately needed. Training all day and studying all evening took a lot out of him and the last thing he needed was to sacrifice a night’s sleep for the whims of some childish boys that had no hope at all of ever getting promoted to the rank of a Master. He almost does it. He almost takes off all the clothes he’d just put on and crawls right back into bed, but the moment he begins unlacing the ties of his boots one of the boys who’d woken him up peeks into his room to see the progress he’s made on getting dressed, breaking into a huge grin when he sees that Malik has all his clothes on—shoes and everything.
“Hey, guys! He’s dressed! Let’s go!”
Malik can’t understand their excitement. Are they all planning to lose their virginities tonight, too? He doubts it. He doubts even half of this group of at least ten boys is planning on following him past the main gates. But they all pull him out of his room and through the castle, still talking about how lucky he is and how they wish they were turning sixteen so that they could have their chance at this, and how he needs to have a lot of fun for them since their chances won’t be for another few months. Malik knows this isn’t true for all of them, though. He remembers waking up at night to the sound of footsteps in the halls, each of these nights he knew to be their birthday nights. It was never a big deal with them—there was never any group formed to steal away the birthday boy and bring him to a brothel, never any whispers of “isn’t he lucky?”. But Malik supposes he really shouldn’t be surprised. Sneaking out on the night of one’s sixteenth birthday had become something of a tradition around Masyaf and while most of them were eager to carry on the tradition, Malik was not so enthusiastic. He’d much rather train or study or something else that didn’t involve sneaking out when they should have been in bed and everyone knew that. Everyone knew that he thought of this tradition as pointless that that is likely when they did this.
For a moment he thinks that maybe if he could just act a little enthusiastic about this they might leave him alone and he could run back to his room to get some more sleep, but he can’t muster up the energy to do that right now. And so the group continues to lead him through the gates (at which point many of them turn back just as he expected they would—they wouldn’t take the chance of getting caught sneaking out when they were supposed to be in bed, but obviously they could let Malik take that risk) and to the village. Malik scowls the entire way there. He can’t believe he let himself go along with this. He’s tired and annoyed and he just wants to go back but he’s here now and something in the back of his mind won’t let him go.
It’s the part of his mind that remembers he is still sixteen years old, still has all the urges that sixteen year old boys usually have even if he acts like he’s forty most of the time. It’s that part of his mind that keeps him curious, that keeps him following the boys to the door of the brothel and inside even when the others have remained outside. A few of them clap him on the back, tell him to have fun and all that, but Malik brushes them off with a roll of his eyes. He continues to act as though he’s indifferent to all this, like he’s only doing it so that they’ll all stop bothering him, but now he’s nervous. He’s nervous now because he realizes that for all of his grumbling and complaining on the way here, he really does want this and now that he realizes how much he wants it, he also realizes how little he knows of what he’s even supposed to do. He’s heard the basics, knows where everything goes, but when it comes to actually acting on those things he’s clueless.
Once he’s inside it becomes abundantly clear to everyone around that he’s never been to a place like this before. He just stands by the door, silently hoping that someone will come and help him get through this night without making himself look like a complete fool. Within moments there’s a woman approaching him and he thinks his hopes have been answered because she starts talking about how many other younger Assassins come here for their first time and he starts to feel a little better about his inexperience for a moment, but that’s all it is. After a moment all of the nervousness and awkwardness come rushing back because she’s taken him to a backroom and suddenly he is very aware of what’s about to happen. It’s almost funny, really. The idea of killing a man does nothing to him, but the idea of sleeping with a woman has him ready to turn tail and bolt back to Masyaf.
The thought occurs that maybe he should introduce himself, say something before all of this starts, but then she’s lying back on the pillows spread out on the floor, her dress hanging dangerously low, and his voice seems to fade away. She motions him over and he goes. His body is on automatic and it feels like he’s not even the one doing any of this. It almost feels like he’s just watching this from someplace outside of his body and the feeling doesn’t get any better when she’s touching him. No words are spoken and Malik finds that for all his complaining when someone talks a lot, he wishes someone like that could be here now. Words are something he can handle. This? This makes him feel far too awkward.
She undresses them both, a small smile that looks more like a smirk playing on her lips the entire time. The way he touches her shows her experience, shows that she’s been in this profession for more than a little while, and he feels inadequate compared to that. His own touches are fumbling, inexperienced, and awkward. He doubts the noises she makes are genuine—simply the practiced noises everyone in this profession knows how to make.
The rest of the night doesn’t go much more smoothly. She takes the lead and he feels embarrassed by that. As the man, he should be leading her, shouldn’t he? But he’s still too nervous and just knowing where everything goes has not helped him at all and even while she’s riding him and making those noises he knows are fake and twisting her face into rehearsed expressions he doesn’t lose his awareness of how terrible he must be to her. She is good. She is really good. But as good as she is, he can’t stop himself from overthinking everything just as he always does.
The act is quick and awkward and everything he never wanted it to be, but ultimately, he is satisfied. When he leaves the other boys are still waiting for him outside, some of them have fallen asleep, but most of them spring right up to their feet the moment he walks out of the building. They ask for all the details—what was it like? What did she look like? And Malik tells them everything they want to hear and everything that didn’t actually happen. He says nothing about his nerves; nothing about the way that she had to lead him in everything; nothing about how he’s made a list in his head consisting of everything he has to work on. When they get back there are still a few hours before they have to begin their training for the day they all head back to their own rooms to get as much sleep as they can, but when Malik gets to his room he finds that it isn’t as unoccupied as he might have liked at the moment. Instead, Kadar is sitting on his bed, fiddling with a stray thread on his sheets.
Malik sits next to him and neither of them says anything even though both of them know what Kadar wants to ask. It’s the younger brother that breaks the silence first, asking the same questions the others did when he came out of the brothel, but Malik doesn’t tell Kadar the same things he told them. Instead, he shrugs and waits a moment, trying to decide if he really wants to talk about this with his brother, but ultimately deciding to tell Kadar everything he didn’t tell the others. It feels strange to talk about this with Kadar, but he wants to tell someone the truth and Malik can’t think of anyone else he likes and trusts enough to tell all of this (certainly not Altair).
They talk for a little while after that, of things unrelated to the nights event until Kadar leaves his room with the comment “maybe it will be better next time” and Malik is glad for the chance to forget it. When he finally gets back to sleep he does dream of better experiences—experiences where he is taking the lead, where he doesn’t need someone else to tell him what to do and when the next time finally does come around, Malik is all too eager to fix the mistakes he had make the first time around.