![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: The Road
Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood
Pairing: Ezio/ Leonardo
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Ezio discovers that there are consequences to his actions, and the road to redemption is never easy.
This story continues on from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kissmytypos’s fic, “Good Intentions”, which can be read here.
A/N: My sincere thanks tokissmytypos for permission to write the sequel. Thanks to all of you still following my story! This is the second-last chapter. Almost there!
Chapter Nine.
1
Ezio’s hands dragged Leonardo into the kiss, the roughness of his lips belying a hidden warmth, and Leonardo bit back a gasp as a finger brushed over the curve of his lips, trailing lightly over his collarbone.
This was progressing faster than Leonardo anticipated. He had thought they would begin with exploratory touches, feather-light and teasing. Instead, Ezio’s arms closed impatiently around his waist, crushing the artist against him.
“Your shoulder, we should treat it,” Leonardo said, at the wince that Ezio displayed. A mediocre diversionary tactic, if anything.
Ezio waved away the concern. “I will be fine, Leonardo.”
Another kiss stifled his concerns as Ezio gripped urgent handfuls of the artist’s doublet and pushed him down against the bed. Leonardo managed an offended squawk as Ezio knocked his beret to the floor, but found it impossible to retrieve with Ezio coaxing his lips open with teeth and tongue.
With a soft sigh of acquiescence, he raked his hands through Ezio’s hair, fingertips blanching white as he dragged them down Ezio’s back. “More,” Leonardo urged, “I need—”
Ezio’s hands looped under Leonardo’s shoulders, fingers digging hard enough to bruise, as he bit down on Leonardo’s neck. “Mine,” Ezio growled, marking him as his own, and Leonardo gasped wordlessly, equal parts appreciation and pain, before Ezio bent his head to lick the bite mark in apology. He continued mouthing wet kisses and darting licks under Leonardo’s jawline, along his throat.
As he stripped off Leonardo’s doublet, Ezio murmured sweet nothings into his ear, about how he had only ever wanted to keep Leonardo safe, from the corruption and bloodshed that tainted his own life, but could never find the right words for comfort or explanation. But to Leonardo, the things Ezio said could never be nothing, and even when Ezio ran out of words, he held Leonardo tight, as if the strength with which he embraced the artist would explain it for him, would demonstrate how much he could not bear to lose him.
“Leonardo, that night…It meant more to me than…” Ezio continued to struggle for words, even though empty platitudes were not enough to make up for the lost time, and Leonardo brought his mouth to meet Ezio’s to chase away those thoughts.
“It’s all right, Ezio.” Leonardo hoped his expression showed that he understood. That the time for words was well past, and it was time for action.
He slid his hands along Ezio’s back to warm and relax the tensed muscle, his tactile memory mapping every scar as Ezio shrugged off his armored garb. His memorization was interrupted by a hand circling slowly inside the waistband of his breeches, Ezio’s hand cupping his hardening flesh.
Leonardo raised his hips, just enough for Ezio to tug off his breeches as he reached between the artist’s legs to stroke him to hardness. With a firm, sure grip on Leonardo’s cock, he pulled Leonardo toward him, leaning in close for a kiss as his other hand snaked around Leonardo’s waist to dip teasingly into the cleft of his buttocks.
“Ah, Ezio…” He bit back a soft moan, eyes sliding closed as Ezio nuzzled against him, rough beard scraping against the exposed flesh of Leonardo’s neck. “Please. Now.”
Nodding, Ezio reached into his bedside drawer for a small vial of oil.
“Wait, why do you have that?” Leonardo asked, with some measure of trepidation.
“For the blades. It keeps them from rusting,” Ezio replied plainly.
Leonardo nodded. Of course. After all the lectures he had given about keeping them intact, he was glad Ezio had remembered to clean them with oil them to prevent rusting. He lay back, letting out a grateful little gasp as Ezio slid his finger into the tight ring of muscle.
“S-slowly, please,” Leonardo panted. “It’s been a while since I…” A spark of tight jealousy flashed in Ezio’s expression before the assassin schooled his features once more, and Leonardo couldn’t help the quiet laugh that bubbled forth. “My last was you, Ezio, all those years ago.”
“Ah.” Ezio’s shoulders sagged noticeably in relief, and he followed by adding another finger. Despite the uncomfortable stretch, Leonardo could only shut his eyes and roll his hips against the sensation, sighing when Ezio’s fingers nudged against the elusive spot inside him. Ezio must have noticed, because he withdrew his fingers, spreading a fair amount of lubrication on them before they returned.
“Ezio, please…” He canted his hips forward, aching for more, wanting Ezio’s fingers to probe deeper, no—more than fingers. “I need you now.”
There was a flurry of motion as Ezio slicked himself with the oil, then pushed Leonardo’s shoulders back against the bed. “Relax,” he whispered, hands sliding up to press Leonardo’s hips back toward his chest.
With a hand down at Ezio’s cock, Leonardo led it to his body, guiding Ezio inside him. He sucked in a wounded breath as Ezio pressed into him, his voice hoarse against his throat. “More. Please.”
Ezio rocked forward, his own voice a breathy, broken moan as Leonardo clutched the pillow. “Like that?”
“Yes. Yes.” Another slow, rocking motion forward, and Ezio was in, pushing into the deepest part of him. Leonardo cried out, fingers digging into Ezio’s shoulders, which only served to strengthen the force of the thrusts inside him. “Like that, Ezio, yes—”
The slow rocking rhythm progressed to short, shallow pushes, had him balling the pillow into his fists, clawing the sheets and headboard, his breathless cries concurrent with each thrust. Leonardo’s hand stole downward, toward his neglected arousal, and he let out a surprised moan when Ezio’s hand closed over his, stroking it in tandem as Ezio pushed into him, kneading the spot inside him with short, stabbing thrusts that sent tight jolts of electricity racing through his spine and belly. At an especially hard dig, Leonardo gasped, pulling Ezio toward him, breathing in the scent of tanned hide, sweat, the rank scent of old blood, dizzy with the feeling of Ezio on him, in him and around him.
Sweat ran into his eye, stinging, and Leonardo tried to blink it away, but Ezio was already getting to his knees, pulling Leonardo up and along, hands raking over his chest and hardened nipples as he urged Leonardo’s legs apart.
Leonardo nearly fell forward, before bracing his hands on Ezio’s chest, as he straddled the assassin’s hips. Ezio was so deep inside him, his thrusts growing faster, harder, that he barely registered Ezio’s hissed, “Ride me”.
“Then kiss me,” Leonardo hissed back, unsure if he liked the grin on Ezio’s lips, before his thoughts were interrupted by Ezio bucking his hips, his strong callused hands forcing Leonardo down by the shoulders. The angle of it hurt, and a strangled sob escaped as he tried to lift himself off. “Ezio…let me…”
He readjusted his hips before sinking down again, crying out as Ezio impaled him from below. Leonardo clamped a hand over his mouth; it wouldn’t do for the other assassins or the novices to hear them.
“The walls are thick, Leonardo. No one will hear us,” Ezio reassured him, lips brushing dangerously close against his ear.
“Ezio…” Leonardo protested, shivering at the wet heat in his ear, before the next upward stroke drove thoughts of all else from his mind. His next groan of the assassin’s name was laced with desperation, as if Ezio’s name was the only word he knew. As his hands scrabbled at the bedclothes by Ezio’s neck, the assassin urged him to sit up straighter. Leonardo moaned, arching his back against Ezio’s legs, which had come up to support him, his elusive spot being grazed again and again as Ezio pushed up and in, each pulse of pleasure more dizzying than the last as he rocked against him.
Suddenly, Ezio grabbed the hands Leonardo had braced on his chest, pulling them to the side so Leonardo fell forward, unbalanced. He began mouthing hard nips along the side of Leonardo’s throat, his greedy hands raking through Leonardo’s hair, down his back and hips, before rolling them both over along the bed.
“Leonardo,” Ezio began, cradling Leonardo’s cheek in his palm. The lines at his eyes were softer now, and Leonardo brought his hand to cover Ezio’s, recalling the gentle brush of fingers on his face in the alley all those years ago.
Ezio lay a kiss on his forehead, his eyelids, his lips. Elation leapt in Leonardo’s chest, and he hoped that these touches, this gentleness was what would persist when their passion had long faded away. But now he nearly swore in frustration.
“There is time later for all of that, Ezio.” He wanted Ezio to move, to affirm that they were really doing this, and—he was ready to spare some expletives when Ezio pulled out completely, palm braced flat against Leonardo’s stomach. He slid up to pinch Leonardo’s right nipple, licking around it before flicking his tongue at the hardened flesh and blowing on it. Leonardo shivered at the sudden coolness, so different from Ezio’s mouth on him, hot and wet. Ezio moved to perform the same motion on the other side, and Leonardo could feel Ezio’s hardness drag a trail of moisture along his thigh.
Despite wanting more of Ezio’s clever hands and devious mouth, Leonardo grasped the assassin’s erection, feeling it throb minutely in his grip. Ezio looked toward him in surprise, his eyes darkening with desire as Leonardo managed, his voice strained, “Don’t…don’t pull out.”
“Fine.” He pressed back into the artist, grinning at Leonardo’s tense breath in and crushing his teeth against Leonardo’s neck, leaving a rose-colored bruise in its wake.
“Ezio, that will…” His protest was punctuated by a sharp gasp at a well-aimed thrust. “…leave a mark.”
“And?”
“And people will see,” he hissed, as Ezio bit another tender spot on his throat.
Ezio paused, as if to reconsider his actions, before a sly grin stole across his face. “Let them,” he said. “Then they will see that you are mine.” Ezio seemed unconcerned about it, and Leonardo could only surmise that it was because he had all but agreed to spend most of his time at the hideout.
Still, Ezio’s carelessness could not go unpunished. Leonardo slid his hand to Ezio’s shoulder, and feeling the jut of the bone there, pressed on it experimentally. Ezio flinched, pulling back to give Leonardo a reproachful look.
“That was painful,” he said quietly. An apology sprang to Leonardo’s lips before Ezio claimed them quickly. “I probably deserved that,” Ezio grinned. “I forget, sometimes, that you are a master of the human body.”
Riposte successful, Leonardo decided, as he smiled wryly in response. He bucked his hips to meet Ezio’s, relishing each tortured moan wrenched from the assassin’s lips as his hands gripped Ezio’s hips, pulling him forward, driving him deeper, gasping as Ezio impacted his prostate.
“Remind me not to cross you again,” Ezio said thoughtfully. “Or, perhaps I should provoke you more often?” A slight quirk of Ezio’s lips was all the warning Leonardo had before the assassin drove his hips forward suddenly, at the same pleasure-inducing angle. Leonardo flung out a hand out blindly as he cried out, hoping for contact, a touch, anything, before Ezio grasped his hand, lacing their fingers together and pinning Leonardo’s hand to the bed as he plunged inside him.
The strokes grew longer, harder still, until Leonardo gasped and begged nonsensically, grinding his hips down in a desperate attempt for more friction, before it occurred to him that a man of his age should not be moaning so wantonly. He balled his fist, biting down into it in a poor attempt to hide his face and stifle his moans.
“Let me see your face, Leonardo. Why do you hide it?”
“I…” Leonardo licked his lips nervously. “I look unsightly.” A thin streak of fluid trailed from the corner of his mouth, and he was sure the flush on his face only made his freckles more prominent. Surely he was the antithesis of the epitomical image of eroticism.
“Nonsense,” Ezio disagreed, lifting Leonardo’s hand from his face. “I want to see your face as you take me deep within you, hear you moan my name as you release, while your body will only know the touch of mine, and mine alone.”
With that, he shoved his mouth against Leonardo’s, taking it roughly, and Leonardo parted his lips readily, greedily, to take all that Ezio had to give.
He was drowning in a maelstrom of sensation, and as it pulled Leonardo ever downward, he had a hope, a wild hope—that for a moment, Ezio could forget about chasing after Cesare, forget the pressures and responsibilities associated with being the Mentore, and upholding the honor of the Auditore family. That Ezio could just be himself, here in their chambers, as they made love.
Seeing his tentative expression, Ezio spoke. “It’s Ezio. Ezio Auditore.”
When Leonardo raised a bemused eyebrow, he was met with a frown. “You said,” Ezio began tentatively, worrying the edge of the bedclothes with a chipped fingernail, “that you only ever wanted to know the stranger’s name, and I…I thought I should own up to that name.”
“Ah,” Leonardo nodded, and soon after, when the word angelo left Ezio’s lips, he wanted to think that it was because Ezio held one in his arms, the ephemeral nature not from a gloriously tailored Carnivale costume, but from the warmth and light that suffused him. He hoped it was enough to banish Ezio’s personal demons, if only for a fleeting moment.
That thought came on the eve of one deep, liberating stroke, and Leonardo found his release, moaning through the tight clench of his jaw as his back arched off the bed, a weak, whimpering gasp escaping as Ezio sank deep and spilled within him.
After, they lay within the sheets, catching their breath as their legs tangled leisurely in the blanket and around each other, Ezio slumping against him in idle contentment.
“Again,” Leonardo demanded, when his breath had returned. He cinched his hands tightly into Ezio’s hair, pulling him down for a ragged kiss, his own face still flushed with the heat of arousal. “Take me like you did that night at Carnivale.”
It surprised him, how raw his voice still was with need, with want.
Ezio was quiet for a moment, the hint of a grin at the corner of his mouth. “We are no longer what we once were, Leonardo.” He paused. “One would think the ardour of youth should be tempered by the wisdom of maturity.”
Leonardo looked up at him, into his eyes, a mischievous smile on his lips. “A pity,” he sighed theatrically, twisting a lock of hair that had fallen over Ezio’s eyes. “You were doing so well for someone your age—”
His voice broke off into a stifled moan as Ezio claimed his lips again and obliged him once more.
2
By the end of their third coupling, Leonardo lay panting, staring blearily at the ceiling in a mixture of bliss and exhaustion, his fingers twisted weakly in the sheets. Ezio was pressing a trail of lazy kisses up from Leonardo’s navel to his mouth, his eyebrow arched in amusement. “So this is why you were so desperate to find him? Me? ”
“Desperate? Hardly,” Leonardo replied haughtily, though his eyes refused to meet Ezio’s and he hid his face to conceal the shamed flush. He decided not to mention Ezio’s desperation only a few hours prior, and was sure that Ezio was wisely avoiding mention of Leonardo’s previous indiscretion at his workshop in Venezia.
“I am sorry, Leonardo. I did not mean to tease,” Ezio said solemnly. He settled against Leonardo’s back, stroking the side of his face without commenting on the heat that had rushed to Leonardo’s cheeks.
“Though I have thought about that time. Occasionally,” Leonardo admitted in a small voice.
And when Leonardo said occasionally, he meant always, prompting Ezio to respond with his baritone laugh, one of the great many things he enjoyed about Ezio’s presence.
Ezio stretched his hand, intertwined with Leonardo’s, toward the ceiling. “The assassin and the artist,” he mused, as soft candlelight filtered through their fingers. “We make a strange pair.”
“But a good one?” Leonardo prompted. After all this, Ezio’s answer had better be in the affirmative.
“A good one,” agreed Ezio, bringing their joined hands to rest around Leonardo’s waist. He nudged Leonardo’s rump playfully with his hips. “In more ways than one.”
Leonardo swatted him, feigning outrage for a moment, before thinking better of it and retaliating instead by pushing back against Ezio.
“What, you haven’t had enough yet?” Ezio grinned. “You are insatiable, I swear.”
Leonardo made a soft scoffing noise in response. This day had been one of the few where he had seen Ezio truly smile, and a blossom of warmth unfurled in his belly at the thought. He closed his eyes, about to drift off to sleep with the notion that, yes, he could live for that smile, when Ezio wove his other hand into Leonardo’s, curled comfortably beneath the pillows, while tightening the other arm still wrapped protectively around Leonardo’s waist.
“Grazie, Leonardo,” Ezio murmured softly. “For loving me.”
Shifting hazily in the arms encircling him, Leonardo’s lip quirked at seeing the assassin at his most vulnerable, and he answered with a sleepy smile of his own.
(tbc - Chapter Ten. |End|)
Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood
Pairing: Ezio/ Leonardo
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Ezio discovers that there are consequences to his actions, and the road to redemption is never easy.
This story continues on from
kissmytypos’s fic, “Good Intentions”, which can be read here.A/N: My sincere thanks to
kissmytypos for permission to write the sequel. Thanks to all of you still following my story! This is the second-last chapter. Almost there!Ezio’s hands dragged Leonardo into the kiss, the roughness of his lips belying a hidden warmth, and Leonardo bit back a gasp as a finger brushed over the curve of his lips, trailing lightly over his collarbone.
This was progressing faster than Leonardo anticipated. He had thought they would begin with exploratory touches, feather-light and teasing. Instead, Ezio’s arms closed impatiently around his waist, crushing the artist against him.
“Your shoulder, we should treat it,” Leonardo said, at the wince that Ezio displayed. A mediocre diversionary tactic, if anything.
Ezio waved away the concern. “I will be fine, Leonardo.”
Another kiss stifled his concerns as Ezio gripped urgent handfuls of the artist’s doublet and pushed him down against the bed. Leonardo managed an offended squawk as Ezio knocked his beret to the floor, but found it impossible to retrieve with Ezio coaxing his lips open with teeth and tongue.
With a soft sigh of acquiescence, he raked his hands through Ezio’s hair, fingertips blanching white as he dragged them down Ezio’s back. “More,” Leonardo urged, “I need—”
Ezio’s hands looped under Leonardo’s shoulders, fingers digging hard enough to bruise, as he bit down on Leonardo’s neck. “Mine,” Ezio growled, marking him as his own, and Leonardo gasped wordlessly, equal parts appreciation and pain, before Ezio bent his head to lick the bite mark in apology. He continued mouthing wet kisses and darting licks under Leonardo’s jawline, along his throat.
As he stripped off Leonardo’s doublet, Ezio murmured sweet nothings into his ear, about how he had only ever wanted to keep Leonardo safe, from the corruption and bloodshed that tainted his own life, but could never find the right words for comfort or explanation. But to Leonardo, the things Ezio said could never be nothing, and even when Ezio ran out of words, he held Leonardo tight, as if the strength with which he embraced the artist would explain it for him, would demonstrate how much he could not bear to lose him.
“Leonardo, that night…It meant more to me than…” Ezio continued to struggle for words, even though empty platitudes were not enough to make up for the lost time, and Leonardo brought his mouth to meet Ezio’s to chase away those thoughts.
“It’s all right, Ezio.” Leonardo hoped his expression showed that he understood. That the time for words was well past, and it was time for action.
He slid his hands along Ezio’s back to warm and relax the tensed muscle, his tactile memory mapping every scar as Ezio shrugged off his armored garb. His memorization was interrupted by a hand circling slowly inside the waistband of his breeches, Ezio’s hand cupping his hardening flesh.
Leonardo raised his hips, just enough for Ezio to tug off his breeches as he reached between the artist’s legs to stroke him to hardness. With a firm, sure grip on Leonardo’s cock, he pulled Leonardo toward him, leaning in close for a kiss as his other hand snaked around Leonardo’s waist to dip teasingly into the cleft of his buttocks.
“Ah, Ezio…” He bit back a soft moan, eyes sliding closed as Ezio nuzzled against him, rough beard scraping against the exposed flesh of Leonardo’s neck. “Please. Now.”
Nodding, Ezio reached into his bedside drawer for a small vial of oil.
“Wait, why do you have that?” Leonardo asked, with some measure of trepidation.
“For the blades. It keeps them from rusting,” Ezio replied plainly.
Leonardo nodded. Of course. After all the lectures he had given about keeping them intact, he was glad Ezio had remembered to clean them with oil them to prevent rusting. He lay back, letting out a grateful little gasp as Ezio slid his finger into the tight ring of muscle.
“S-slowly, please,” Leonardo panted. “It’s been a while since I…” A spark of tight jealousy flashed in Ezio’s expression before the assassin schooled his features once more, and Leonardo couldn’t help the quiet laugh that bubbled forth. “My last was you, Ezio, all those years ago.”
“Ah.” Ezio’s shoulders sagged noticeably in relief, and he followed by adding another finger. Despite the uncomfortable stretch, Leonardo could only shut his eyes and roll his hips against the sensation, sighing when Ezio’s fingers nudged against the elusive spot inside him. Ezio must have noticed, because he withdrew his fingers, spreading a fair amount of lubrication on them before they returned.
“Ezio, please…” He canted his hips forward, aching for more, wanting Ezio’s fingers to probe deeper, no—more than fingers. “I need you now.”
There was a flurry of motion as Ezio slicked himself with the oil, then pushed Leonardo’s shoulders back against the bed. “Relax,” he whispered, hands sliding up to press Leonardo’s hips back toward his chest.
With a hand down at Ezio’s cock, Leonardo led it to his body, guiding Ezio inside him. He sucked in a wounded breath as Ezio pressed into him, his voice hoarse against his throat. “More. Please.”
Ezio rocked forward, his own voice a breathy, broken moan as Leonardo clutched the pillow. “Like that?”
“Yes. Yes.” Another slow, rocking motion forward, and Ezio was in, pushing into the deepest part of him. Leonardo cried out, fingers digging into Ezio’s shoulders, which only served to strengthen the force of the thrusts inside him. “Like that, Ezio, yes—”
The slow rocking rhythm progressed to short, shallow pushes, had him balling the pillow into his fists, clawing the sheets and headboard, his breathless cries concurrent with each thrust. Leonardo’s hand stole downward, toward his neglected arousal, and he let out a surprised moan when Ezio’s hand closed over his, stroking it in tandem as Ezio pushed into him, kneading the spot inside him with short, stabbing thrusts that sent tight jolts of electricity racing through his spine and belly. At an especially hard dig, Leonardo gasped, pulling Ezio toward him, breathing in the scent of tanned hide, sweat, the rank scent of old blood, dizzy with the feeling of Ezio on him, in him and around him.
Sweat ran into his eye, stinging, and Leonardo tried to blink it away, but Ezio was already getting to his knees, pulling Leonardo up and along, hands raking over his chest and hardened nipples as he urged Leonardo’s legs apart.
Leonardo nearly fell forward, before bracing his hands on Ezio’s chest, as he straddled the assassin’s hips. Ezio was so deep inside him, his thrusts growing faster, harder, that he barely registered Ezio’s hissed, “Ride me”.
“Then kiss me,” Leonardo hissed back, unsure if he liked the grin on Ezio’s lips, before his thoughts were interrupted by Ezio bucking his hips, his strong callused hands forcing Leonardo down by the shoulders. The angle of it hurt, and a strangled sob escaped as he tried to lift himself off. “Ezio…let me…”
He readjusted his hips before sinking down again, crying out as Ezio impaled him from below. Leonardo clamped a hand over his mouth; it wouldn’t do for the other assassins or the novices to hear them.
“The walls are thick, Leonardo. No one will hear us,” Ezio reassured him, lips brushing dangerously close against his ear.
“Ezio…” Leonardo protested, shivering at the wet heat in his ear, before the next upward stroke drove thoughts of all else from his mind. His next groan of the assassin’s name was laced with desperation, as if Ezio’s name was the only word he knew. As his hands scrabbled at the bedclothes by Ezio’s neck, the assassin urged him to sit up straighter. Leonardo moaned, arching his back against Ezio’s legs, which had come up to support him, his elusive spot being grazed again and again as Ezio pushed up and in, each pulse of pleasure more dizzying than the last as he rocked against him.
Suddenly, Ezio grabbed the hands Leonardo had braced on his chest, pulling them to the side so Leonardo fell forward, unbalanced. He began mouthing hard nips along the side of Leonardo’s throat, his greedy hands raking through Leonardo’s hair, down his back and hips, before rolling them both over along the bed.
“Leonardo,” Ezio began, cradling Leonardo’s cheek in his palm. The lines at his eyes were softer now, and Leonardo brought his hand to cover Ezio’s, recalling the gentle brush of fingers on his face in the alley all those years ago.
Ezio lay a kiss on his forehead, his eyelids, his lips. Elation leapt in Leonardo’s chest, and he hoped that these touches, this gentleness was what would persist when their passion had long faded away. But now he nearly swore in frustration.
“There is time later for all of that, Ezio.” He wanted Ezio to move, to affirm that they were really doing this, and—he was ready to spare some expletives when Ezio pulled out completely, palm braced flat against Leonardo’s stomach. He slid up to pinch Leonardo’s right nipple, licking around it before flicking his tongue at the hardened flesh and blowing on it. Leonardo shivered at the sudden coolness, so different from Ezio’s mouth on him, hot and wet. Ezio moved to perform the same motion on the other side, and Leonardo could feel Ezio’s hardness drag a trail of moisture along his thigh.
Despite wanting more of Ezio’s clever hands and devious mouth, Leonardo grasped the assassin’s erection, feeling it throb minutely in his grip. Ezio looked toward him in surprise, his eyes darkening with desire as Leonardo managed, his voice strained, “Don’t…don’t pull out.”
“Fine.” He pressed back into the artist, grinning at Leonardo’s tense breath in and crushing his teeth against Leonardo’s neck, leaving a rose-colored bruise in its wake.
“Ezio, that will…” His protest was punctuated by a sharp gasp at a well-aimed thrust. “…leave a mark.”
“And?”
“And people will see,” he hissed, as Ezio bit another tender spot on his throat.
Ezio paused, as if to reconsider his actions, before a sly grin stole across his face. “Let them,” he said. “Then they will see that you are mine.” Ezio seemed unconcerned about it, and Leonardo could only surmise that it was because he had all but agreed to spend most of his time at the hideout.
Still, Ezio’s carelessness could not go unpunished. Leonardo slid his hand to Ezio’s shoulder, and feeling the jut of the bone there, pressed on it experimentally. Ezio flinched, pulling back to give Leonardo a reproachful look.
“That was painful,” he said quietly. An apology sprang to Leonardo’s lips before Ezio claimed them quickly. “I probably deserved that,” Ezio grinned. “I forget, sometimes, that you are a master of the human body.”
Riposte successful, Leonardo decided, as he smiled wryly in response. He bucked his hips to meet Ezio’s, relishing each tortured moan wrenched from the assassin’s lips as his hands gripped Ezio’s hips, pulling him forward, driving him deeper, gasping as Ezio impacted his prostate.
“Remind me not to cross you again,” Ezio said thoughtfully. “Or, perhaps I should provoke you more often?” A slight quirk of Ezio’s lips was all the warning Leonardo had before the assassin drove his hips forward suddenly, at the same pleasure-inducing angle. Leonardo flung out a hand out blindly as he cried out, hoping for contact, a touch, anything, before Ezio grasped his hand, lacing their fingers together and pinning Leonardo’s hand to the bed as he plunged inside him.
The strokes grew longer, harder still, until Leonardo gasped and begged nonsensically, grinding his hips down in a desperate attempt for more friction, before it occurred to him that a man of his age should not be moaning so wantonly. He balled his fist, biting down into it in a poor attempt to hide his face and stifle his moans.
“Let me see your face, Leonardo. Why do you hide it?”
“I…” Leonardo licked his lips nervously. “I look unsightly.” A thin streak of fluid trailed from the corner of his mouth, and he was sure the flush on his face only made his freckles more prominent. Surely he was the antithesis of the epitomical image of eroticism.
“Nonsense,” Ezio disagreed, lifting Leonardo’s hand from his face. “I want to see your face as you take me deep within you, hear you moan my name as you release, while your body will only know the touch of mine, and mine alone.”
With that, he shoved his mouth against Leonardo’s, taking it roughly, and Leonardo parted his lips readily, greedily, to take all that Ezio had to give.
He was drowning in a maelstrom of sensation, and as it pulled Leonardo ever downward, he had a hope, a wild hope—that for a moment, Ezio could forget about chasing after Cesare, forget the pressures and responsibilities associated with being the Mentore, and upholding the honor of the Auditore family. That Ezio could just be himself, here in their chambers, as they made love.
Seeing his tentative expression, Ezio spoke. “It’s Ezio. Ezio Auditore.”
When Leonardo raised a bemused eyebrow, he was met with a frown. “You said,” Ezio began tentatively, worrying the edge of the bedclothes with a chipped fingernail, “that you only ever wanted to know the stranger’s name, and I…I thought I should own up to that name.”
“Ah,” Leonardo nodded, and soon after, when the word angelo left Ezio’s lips, he wanted to think that it was because Ezio held one in his arms, the ephemeral nature not from a gloriously tailored Carnivale costume, but from the warmth and light that suffused him. He hoped it was enough to banish Ezio’s personal demons, if only for a fleeting moment.
That thought came on the eve of one deep, liberating stroke, and Leonardo found his release, moaning through the tight clench of his jaw as his back arched off the bed, a weak, whimpering gasp escaping as Ezio sank deep and spilled within him.
After, they lay within the sheets, catching their breath as their legs tangled leisurely in the blanket and around each other, Ezio slumping against him in idle contentment.
“Again,” Leonardo demanded, when his breath had returned. He cinched his hands tightly into Ezio’s hair, pulling him down for a ragged kiss, his own face still flushed with the heat of arousal. “Take me like you did that night at Carnivale.”
It surprised him, how raw his voice still was with need, with want.
Ezio was quiet for a moment, the hint of a grin at the corner of his mouth. “We are no longer what we once were, Leonardo.” He paused. “One would think the ardour of youth should be tempered by the wisdom of maturity.”
Leonardo looked up at him, into his eyes, a mischievous smile on his lips. “A pity,” he sighed theatrically, twisting a lock of hair that had fallen over Ezio’s eyes. “You were doing so well for someone your age—”
His voice broke off into a stifled moan as Ezio claimed his lips again and obliged him once more.
By the end of their third coupling, Leonardo lay panting, staring blearily at the ceiling in a mixture of bliss and exhaustion, his fingers twisted weakly in the sheets. Ezio was pressing a trail of lazy kisses up from Leonardo’s navel to his mouth, his eyebrow arched in amusement. “So this is why you were so desperate to find him? Me? ”
“Desperate? Hardly,” Leonardo replied haughtily, though his eyes refused to meet Ezio’s and he hid his face to conceal the shamed flush. He decided not to mention Ezio’s desperation only a few hours prior, and was sure that Ezio was wisely avoiding mention of Leonardo’s previous indiscretion at his workshop in Venezia.
“I am sorry, Leonardo. I did not mean to tease,” Ezio said solemnly. He settled against Leonardo’s back, stroking the side of his face without commenting on the heat that had rushed to Leonardo’s cheeks.
“Though I have thought about that time. Occasionally,” Leonardo admitted in a small voice.
And when Leonardo said occasionally, he meant always, prompting Ezio to respond with his baritone laugh, one of the great many things he enjoyed about Ezio’s presence.
Ezio stretched his hand, intertwined with Leonardo’s, toward the ceiling. “The assassin and the artist,” he mused, as soft candlelight filtered through their fingers. “We make a strange pair.”
“But a good one?” Leonardo prompted. After all this, Ezio’s answer had better be in the affirmative.
“A good one,” agreed Ezio, bringing their joined hands to rest around Leonardo’s waist. He nudged Leonardo’s rump playfully with his hips. “In more ways than one.”
Leonardo swatted him, feigning outrage for a moment, before thinking better of it and retaliating instead by pushing back against Ezio.
“What, you haven’t had enough yet?” Ezio grinned. “You are insatiable, I swear.”
Leonardo made a soft scoffing noise in response. This day had been one of the few where he had seen Ezio truly smile, and a blossom of warmth unfurled in his belly at the thought. He closed his eyes, about to drift off to sleep with the notion that, yes, he could live for that smile, when Ezio wove his other hand into Leonardo’s, curled comfortably beneath the pillows, while tightening the other arm still wrapped protectively around Leonardo’s waist.
“Grazie, Leonardo,” Ezio murmured softly. “For loving me.”
Shifting hazily in the arms encircling him, Leonardo’s lip quirked at seeing the assassin at his most vulnerable, and he answered with a sleepy smile of his own.
(tbc - Chapter Ten. |End|)
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no subject
Date: 2012-07-26 01:55 pm (UTC)From:I actually thought that you had abandoned this, but now you updated and it's awesome! Thank you! :D
no subject
Date: 2012-07-28 07:08 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2012-07-26 06:44 pm (UTC)From:Surely he was the antithesis of the epitomical image of eroticism.
“Nonsense,” Ezio disagreed, lifting Leonardo’s hand from his face. “I want to see your face as you take me deep within you, hear you moan my name as you release, while your body will only know the touch of mine, and mine alone.”
This is my favourite part. Well, and this: “Grazie, Leonardo,” Ezio murmured softly. “For loving me.”
Just perfection.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-28 07:12 am (UTC)From:Thank you for reading and commenting. :D
Amazing once again!
Date: 2012-07-30 06:35 am (UTC)From:Re: Amazing once again!
Date: 2012-07-30 08:40 am (UTC)From: