Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

The Vitruvian Man	By : anyasy Category: +A through F > Assassin's Creed Views: 5217 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Purely fiction - I do not own assassin's creed or its characters and I am not making any profit from this fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-The Vitruvian Man
- 1
[A/N:
Was drinking Ribena, did not hug Leonardo. I�m sorry Leonardo! Also, the
half-English half-Italian thing in the game did seem a bit jarring (though the
voice acting was hot), but Italian is so beautiful, so I will keep a little
half-Italian half-�English� in this fic too.
Also,
I will not be following Leonardo�s real timeline. It seems he actually left for
Milan in 1482, while in the game he follows Ezio to Venezia.
For
Nescienx and other AC fangirls.]
�The
Medici made me and the Medici destroyed me� � Leonardo da Vinci
The Vitruvian Man
I
Leonardo
was just in time to drag the curtain over the bodies in his storeroom and drop
a canvas sheet over his more recent, esoteric sketches when the impatient
knocks at his door segued into the self-assured creak of its hinges.
�Leonardo
da Vinci.� Lady Maria Auditore sounded amused, when he whirled around.
He
managed pleasantries, relieved that it hadn't been one of his more...
unforgiving patrons, scooping up the completed commissions and placing them
carefully in a box, glad that he�d remembered this morning in between sketching
a bird�s wing and designing a formula for underwater ink to put the scrolls
within reach and within sight.
It
was only when he carried the box to his latest patron that Leonardo had a good
look at the youth standing behind her. Tall, lithe and broad-shouldered, his
hair an unruly shock of dark silky waves, his dark eyes sharp and playful, skin
evenly tanned from hours baked in the Firenze sun, Ezio Auditore was quite
possibly the most handsome man Leonardo had ever seen; and he has long
had the pleasure of Medici patronage and access to the courtiers and
philosophers and painted youths entertained in the House of Medici.
Lorenzo
de� Medici had introduced the Auditore family to him. Right now, unabashedly
staring, Leonardo thanked God for the Medici.
He
swallowed, as Ezio took the box from him with easy strength, looking bored,
blithely unaware of how Leonardo�s fingers itched suddenly for a brush, a
pencil, inks and papers. Lady Auditore sensed her son�s impatience, the
pleasantries swept short, and they leave, leave Leonardo staring after them as
the door closed, with his mouth dry and parted like a peasant child and his
fingernails curling tightly into his palms.
Leonardo
cast an eye behind him to the yet unfinished Adoration of the Magi, sighed, and
took to his desk, putting quill to ink and drawing a sheet of paper to himself.
The
treatise on violent, sudden emotion he burned, later, deeper into the night,
but the sketch he could not bear to crumple. Pencils shaded and shaped the
Auditore youth with painful precision onto paper, his dark eyes bright and
piercing, his smile inviting, here Leonardo�s �gift� turned both blessing and
curse.
Leonardo
considered giving it to Lady Auditore in her next visit, glanced back at the
fire, and sighed again, tying it instead into a tight scroll and hiding it in
the pile of his journals. Women tended to be perceptive, particularly where
their sons were involved, and Leonardo was quick to understand social
restrictions. He had long learned his lesson, in Firenze, and it had been a
harsh one.
II
Ezio
fell into an exhausted slumber while Leonardo worked on the hidden blade
mechanism, and not even the remarkable intricacy of the design managed to hold
his full attention. Guiltily, Leonardo set the blade aside and took up quill
and paper, sketching.
Ezio
looked vulnerable now where he had not at the door, murder in his eyes and
betrayal writ in the tension of his shoulders. The youth Leonardo had so
admired was gone, murdered along with his brothers at the gallows, something
more primal left in its wake, a newborn hunter mewling for its first kill. And
now he would give it fangs.
Leonardo
was at heart and in practice a pacifist, respecting all life and disdaining
meat at his table, and yet for a man he did not know well, he was about to
provide a silent instrument of death.
He
put fists at his head, bowing it for a long, pained breath, and began to sketch
long, dark lashes, fluttering in sleep. Leonardo dared not linger on this work,
managing only the barest of frames before tucking the scroll away in a drawer
to be finished later in privacy, returning his attention to the blade.
Later
he cannot help pulling a prank on Ezio, serious, brash Ezio, as though he could
ever put a blade to those perfect, nimble fingers.
III
Since
the blade, every single one of Ezio�s visits had been due to encrypted pages
from what the assassin called �the Codex�. Leonardo supposed that he could
expect little different � though Ezio called him friend, it was not like they
were truly close, confidantes, no matter how much he might wish it otherwise.
Inviting
an embrace had been foolishness born of euphoria from the hectic past week,
what with the insane journey through the mountains and then the ship to
Venezia, sharing a cabin with Ezio and pretending to be interested in politics
when all he could think of was how poorly the other scrolls in his bags under
the bed hid all eleven of his sketches of his friend.
He�d
asked, a little shyly, if he could sketch Ezio, midway, when the coast was a
dark line drawn jagged over the calm ways, and his friend had laughed, thinking
it a joke. Leonardo hadn�t dared bring it up since.
He�d
made Ezio uncomfortable after all, Leonardo had surmised. Small wonder the man
had stared askance at him when he had put his arms wide. Perhaps he should
apologize. Leonardo had no idea where Ezio might be at any given time, but the
entire city knew that the thieves� guild had acquired a powerful, silent ally,
and-
�Leonardo.�
�Ezio!
So good to see you.� Leonardo said as the door opened silently, pleasure and
surprise both. �I was just thinking of you. How can I be of service?�
The
hunter had matured: Ezio walked with a deadly, quiet grace, his hands a
murderer�s hands a multitude over, and his eyes were hard now, dark and cold.
Beautiful in the way a hawk was beautiful, all talons and claws. Leonardo�s
fingers itched, but he was used to that, now. Two sketches had become
three, then a multitude of scrolls stored neatly in a locked chest under
Leonardo�s bed, his sole guilty pleasure in his celibacy, his one mistress to
his pursuit of knowledge.
�And
then the devil appears?� Ezio quipped, amused. Cool confidence now, where brash
youth had once been. �Why, what about? Is there something I can do for you, amico?�
�No,
no. No, it is nothing,� Leonardo�s courage ebbed quickly under the steady
stare. �I, ah, is it another page?�
�Actually
I was here to apologize.�
�Apologize?
About what?� Leonardo did not recall the assassin giving offense recently, if
ever. Ezio was brusque in their meetings and always business, but it was not as
though Leonardo could not understand that the assassin was moving in far more
important circles than he.
�That
day? The first day in Venezia?� Ezio prompted, when Leonardo continued to look
blank. �You seemed hurt.�
�The
first day of Venezia?� Leonardo tried recalling. �I was not injured. You made
sure of that by diverting the bandits� attentions.�
Ezio
muttered something under his breath, and took two long strides into Leonardo�s
personal space before he could blink, all but crushing him into a hug. Dimly,
Leonardo was aware that he had stopped breathing: Ezio was so warm, his
metal armor jutting painfully into his ribs and elbows, the silver buckle at
his belt into his belly, and awkwardly, Leonardo returned the embrace, his
fingers trembling. Ezio smelled of leather, metal and sunshine.
�There.�
Ezio drew back, all too quickly and looking satisfied, clapping him on the
shoulder with his ungloved palm. �Now we are even.�
�I�
I� what� this��
The
assassin frowned, concerned. �Leonardo?�
He
took a deep breath, trying to kick his much vaunted brain into some form of
intelligent speech. �Er. Thank you, Ezio.� God damn it.
�You
are very important to me,� Ezio continued earnestly, �I think of you as my best
and most trusted friend. I do not want you to think otherwise. That day, I was
just a little tired. Distracted.�
Leonardo
was quite sure now that he was dreaming. He had thought... �Ezio, have you been
drinking?�
�No,
no. I do not drink any longer. It dulls the senses,� Ezio grimaced. �Not that
Antonio�s place lacks for liquor, what with all that drunken noise and revelry
every night.�
�Is
that where you stay? The thieves� guild?� Leonardo felt mildly appalled.
�When
I am in Venezia, yes.� The assassin shrugged, his grin quick and mischievous.
�I am an assassin, Leonardo. A den of thieves, a house of whores, such places
are full of my ilk.�
�You
can stay here,� The words left his mouth before he could think. �I, ah, I mean,
I have rooms disused upstairs. You can access one through the balcony, even. It
will be much quieter than the other places.�
�Thank
you, Leonardo,� Ezio said, looking startled. �But it will be dangerous for you.
I am a wanted man.�
�I
think we are long past denying our association,� Leonardo said dryly, with a
quick glance at Ezio�s wrists. �And I have long been known as a friend of your
family.�
�I
remember,� Ezio said soberly, his eyes narrowing briefly. The assassin�s first
kill with the hidden blade, Leonardo recalled, had been in his defense. �Has it
troubled you since?�
�No.
Not after the removal of the Pazzi. Lorenzo de� Medici ensured that. There�s a
spare bed upstairs. Not much in the way of any other furniture, unfortunately.�
�Thank
you, Leonardo.� As responses came, that was all too disappointingly neutral.
IV
A
rattling sound and a quiet step in the floor above startled Leonardo out of his
painstaking drafting of a whimsical set of engineering plans for mechanical
carriages. Since the Medici had solidified their grasp on Firenze, he had not
had any nocturnal burglaries, but then, Leonardo was all too clear that he was
no longer in Firenze. Shakily, he took the nearest weapon he could find � a
butcher�s knife � and crept up the stair.
He
flinched when there was a shout, then a scuffle, the wet sounds of a blade
meeting flesh, then loud swearing, a woman�s voice, filthy enough that Leonardo
blushed. Quickly, he ascended the stair, circling towards the spare room,
afraid of what he would find.
A
slim woman with short, black hair and a delicate chin stood planted beside the
window, hands on her hips, fingers clasped over the hilt of a blade that still
dripped blood onto the floorboards. She wore mannish clothes, a rough shirt
buttoned whorishly low over her cleavage, and equally unseemly short, fitting
breeches, with a scarf around her slender neck that dipped into the valley of
her breasts.
��
bastardi� ah, you. Well, help me get rid of this,� the woman gestured
impatiently at the body at her feet. A man lay dead, sprawled on the
floorboard, a gaping wound in his neck. �Courtesy from the Barbarigos, I think.
Dio mio, must you stand there gaping like a fish? Help me carry him!�
Leonardo
found himself half-dragging, half-carrying the body down to the dissection
room, enduring muttered imprecations and the occasional snide comment about his
strength and stamina the whole interminable journey, the woman only seeming to
take a breath when he offered her a basin of water and a cloth, later, to wash
her hands.
She
looked around his workshop sharply, her eyes lingering on the unfinished
paintings, sweeping over the sketches and the books, and snorted derisively. �You
are his closest friend?�
�It
seems so.� Leonardo didn�t need to ask for clarification, and besides,
sometimes the fact of the matter was surprising even to himself. �What just
happened there?�
�The
whole of Italia thinks the world of your intelligence and you ask me that?�
�Why
would the Barbarigos want to kill me?� He hazarded a guess, shaken. �Ah� and
er, thank you, milady.�
�I
have never been a �milady�, thank you so kindly, good sir,� the
woman said, her tone mocking, though her narrowed eyes softened. �My name is
Rosa. You are fortunate that I was passing by.�
�Yes,
I owe you my life. If there is anything I can do for you in return��
�Lock
your windows at night and your doors at all times,� Rosa said, though not
unkindly. �You do not seem to be a bad sort, just a stupid one, keeping such
friends as you do and living all alone with no guard. I will have Antonio post
a watch on your place.�
�Er�
thank you?�
�We
look after our own,� Rosa inclined her head. �And you are important to him.�
Full lips quirked into a grin of sly mischief. �I think I will tell him that
you were nearly killed today. Perhaps he will remember that when the cretino
next does something loud and stupid.�
V
Leonardo
returned from a meeting with philosophers in the Piazza San Marco to find Ezio
waiting for him in his workshop. �How did you get in?�
�I
picked the lock,� Ezio admitted, looking a little embarrassed. �Rosa showed me
how to pick locks some time ago.�
�Ah�
it is good to see you,� Leonardo said, deciding to move past why his best
friend had broken into his house. �Would you like some tea?�
�You
are not injured at all?� At Leonardo�s blink, Ezio added, irritably, �From when
those bastardi from Barbarigo tried to kill you. Rosa told me-�
�There
was one guard, and Rosa killed him before anything happened,� Leonardo
said quickly. �No injuries at all. You need not have worried.�
�Still,
if she had not been there�� Ezio was pacing, a sure sign that his volatile
temper had been simmering for some time.
�Antonio
has posted a guard. He came by personally to discuss it with me.� Antonio had
been an interesting man: educated, incisive, with a quick mind that enjoyed
debate. Leonardo had come away from the long conversation � one that now took
place weekly � with the impression that Antonio�s usual associates failed to
provide him with an (any) intellectual stimulation that he seemingly craved.
�The
guard will be useless if the Barbarigo make a serious attempt on your life. You
should go back to Firenze. Lorenzo can protect you. Or Monteriggioni. My uncle
will be happy to do so. Monteriggioni may even be safer. No stranger enters it
undetected.�
�I
like Venezia,� Leonardo shook his head. �And I cannot hide forever in Firenze.
Some day I hope to live in Milan. I cannot always rely on another.�
�You
could die here,� Ezio snapped, clearly frustrated. �I insist that you leave. Look
at how easily I broke in. Anyone could do it. Distract the guard and send
another to lie here, in wait.�
�And
were I to leave? You have shown me yourself that there is no such thing as an
impenetrable stronghold. I will stay.�
�If
you must stay, then you will move into Antonio�s palazzo.�
�I
like my workshop,� Leonardo retorted, balling his fists, struggling to hold his
patience against Ezio�s draconian will, �And you yourself have told me that
Antonio�s guild is a raucous place. I need quiet to concentrate, to create.�
�Then
I am moving in here,� Ezio countered, folding his arms. �Quietly. No one will
know. But if the Barbarigo send another after you again, I will be there.� When
Leonardo said nothing, shocked, Ezio growled, �No more arguments. In the meantime
I will work with Antonio to remove the rest of the Barbarigo bastardi
from Venezia.�
�You
are always welcome here, Ezio,� Leonardo said, cautiously, unable to believe
his good fortune. Warmth was infusing his cheeks and twisting at his heart, and
it was all he could do to stand still and pretend � pretend � that
nothing momentous had happened.
�I
have lost too much to the Borgia Maestro and his allies,� Ezio said gruffly,
thankfully oblivious to how easily he had just overturned his best friend�s world.
�I will not lose you too.�
VI
Considering
that it felt as though he had waited years for this, Ezio moving into the spare
room above his workshop turned out to be somewhat less life-changing than
Leonardo had originally thought. Ezio was a busy man, often away from Venezia
altogether on contracts from Lorenzo, and even when he was in Venezia he
was usually missing. In his absence, Antonio seemed to visit more often, if not
Antonio then Sister Teodora or Rosa.
It
was clear that he was being more tightly guarded, but Leonardo did not really
enjoy having such a constant stream of demanding (particularly Rosa) visitors.
It interrupted his already dubious concentration and shaky schedule. However,
his strenuous protests went unheeded, and Leonardo grudgingly adjusted his work
schedule along with his social arrangements accordingly.
When
Ezio was there, however, the assassin spent most of his time in a
shallow sleep, either slumped on a chair in the workshop or curled up on the
spare bed. When he was awake, it was usually because Leonardo was performing
rudimentary first aid.
Today
it seemed that Ezio had broken an arm via having slipped from a roof while in
pursuit of a mark. Dosed on a light tincture of laudanum against the pain as
Leonardo washed and set his arm, Ezio�s speech was rambling and slurred in his
description of how he had completed his mission anyway against all odds, though
Leonardo noted that the assassin�s feet were still flat-footed on the
floorboards, and that he had seated himself in a way that he could track the
stairwell and the door with his peripheral vision.
�A
doctor could probably do this more neatly,� Leonardo concluded, as he bound and
splint the arm.
�I
do not need neat,� Ezio slouched back in the chair, yawning, stripped to his
undershirt, breeches and one of his bladed bracers. �And you are as good as any
of the doctors in Venezia.�
�Hardly,�
Leonardo set himself to clearing up the medical kit on his worktable, flattered
nonetheless.
�I
do not know how you have managed it, but you can paint anything, you can build
anything, you can perform medicine, argue philosophy, sing, play the lyre,
write poetry� anything,� Ezio continued, his words interspersed by heavy
yawns. �You are rich, connected to the Medici, intelligent and comely. It is a
wonder that you are not married, amico. I have never even seen you with
a woman.�
�You
are not married either, Ezio,� Leonardo deflected the dangerous implication
there carefully, and turned around to slot the kit back onto the shelves,
searching for an available space and hoping that he had done so in time to hide
his flush.
�I
am an assassin,� Ezio said sleepily, as though it explained everything.
�Your
father was married. The author of the scrolls you have brought me, he too,
twice, I believe.�
�It
is different. I am an outlaw. My father worked in secret; everyone who knew him
thought that he was a banker. The author, Alta�r, he lived in a community of
assassins. No doubt his wives were also assassins.�
�There
is Monteriggioni.�
�You
are changing the subject,� Ezio pointed out, irritable. �You are famous,
well-known, you make the rounds of many Courts, many social circles. If you
were a woman I would already have married you.�
Leonardo
dropped the kit. As he bent to pick it up, trying to think of an appropriate
response, any response, Ezio began to laugh, apparently at his own joke,
heartily at first, then chuckling drowsily into slumber as the laudanum took
effect.
�Ezio?�
Leonardo asked cautiously, setting the kit down on the shelf and sidling over
to prod his friend on the wrist. When Ezio only muttered in his sleep and
shifted gently, Leonardo sighed, looking around for Ezio�s cape and draping the
assassin in it, allowing his fingers to linger briefly over broad shoulders. �I
am not married because of you, amore mio. Nor will I ever be.�
V
Rosa�s
most annoying habit, in Leonardo�s opinion, and one that he tolerated with the
best of his patience, was her tendency to explore his workshop each time she
was tasked with guard duty, commenting loudly on anything new and often opening
cupboards and cabinets with brazen impunity.
As
such, it was with some trepidation, about an hour of deep and blissful silence
spent drawing preliminary sketches on canvas that Leonardo realized that Rosa
had gone quiet.
�Rosa?�
No
answer. Frowning, looking around warily, Leonardo grew a little worried. Rosa
would not leave without informing him in her usual ebullient manner, nor had he
ever observed her fall asleep while on �duty�.
�Rosa?�
Leonardo searched his workshop briefly, even looking under the desks and in the
dissection room, and then he ascended the stairway, as alert as he could be to
any footsteps or suspicious sounds. Perhaps there was an intruder while he was
working. Or perhaps Rosa had looked out briefly at the rooftops and had an
accident. If she were hurt, Ezio would-
He
let out the breath he was holding when he noticed Rosa sitting on the floor
beside his bed, unharmed, apparently going through a set of scrolls.
He
was somewhat less relieved when he saw the unlocked chest and realized
what the scrolls were.
�Rosa!�
Bright red, Leonardo darted forward, scooping up the scrolls on the ground and
dumping them back in the chest. �You had no right!�
�Oh,
come on, Leonardo,� Rosa grinned, unrepentant as she dodged his wild grasp for
the scrolls in her hands nimbly and perched up on the bedside desk. �These are
very good. Even the early ones. Even those that are obviously not posed, no?�
�Do
not tell him, please,� Leonardo could recognize futility when he saw it, and
chasing Rosa around the bedroom would not only be futile but also childishly
undignified.
�Why
not?�
�I
know that between us there is only friendship. I do not want that ruined. I
will burn these,� Leonardo promised, steeling his voice from choking. �Just return
that, please, and keep your silence.� When Rosa merely arched an eyebrow,
Leonardo�s shoulders slumped. �I have money.�
Rosa
sniffed, tossing the scroll accurately at his ear. �Do not insult me, bastardi.�
�Many
years ago, I was in love. Before Ezio.� Leonardo sat down heavily, placing the
last scroll in the chest. �An enemy of mine discovered my secret, and accused
me anonymously of sodomy. I would have been hanged, me, my lover, and my
lover�s brothers for facilitating the meetings, but for my tutor and Lorenzo
de� Medici�s intervention. We were acquitted, but a month later, my lover
hanged himself. Suicide. The rumors, you see. So. Never again.�
Rosa
went from being perched on the dresser to kneeling by his side in a blink of an
eye, and Leonardo froze as she hugged him tightly and kissed him on the ear.
�You are a stupid bastardi but you are also my friend. And I am a thief.
Do you think I care what those spoiled cretinos in Court think should be
right and wrong about love? I will not tell him. But,� she added softly,
�I would rather that you did not burn these.�
�They
are dangerous, after all.�
�Add
other sketches,� Rosa shrugged. �Myself, Antonio, Teodora, Lorenzo de� Medici,
people in the street, your acquaintances. The best disguise is the obvious one,
Leonardo. Understand?�
�I
understand.�
�Good,
good. But to be safe, I give you a week to make some sketches. Nice sketches.
Especially of me,� Rosa added, with a quick smirk. �And then I will take one
home to Antonio�s palazzo and put it in my room. You should give me one of
Antonio as well. After that, if he finds out, well, you just like to
sketch your friends.�
�I
just like to sketch my friends,� Leonardo echoed, dizzy, choking now on
unexpected tears that he fought to swallow, and Rosa tugged him closer, tucking
his head under her chin, rocking him silently and crooning something wordless
until he slept.
VII
Despite
Rosa and despite the fact that doing so hurt, Leonardo burned some of
the sketches; particularly the unclothed ones, any which he felt might cause
untoward comment. If Rosa noticed this on her next visit, she made no
observation, instead occupying herself with an inordinate amount of feminine
preening at the sketches he had made of her.
�These
are very good,� Rosa�s favorite was one of the finer sketches, of her seated,
thinking, on a vined balcony lattice overlooking one of the canals, one knee
arched, an elbow resting upon it, mannish and feminine all at once. �More than
very good. You are better than any artist I have ever seen! Can I truly
have one?�
�Thank
you,� Leonardo said, calmer now after a week of thought. �Please, have any of
them. More than one, if you wish.�
�I
want this one, and this one of Antonio. It is not as good as mine, naturally,
but he will like it.� Rosa slipped the scrolls into a pouch at her belt. �If he
does not realize they are from you then you should cast your eye at someone
else, because he is a cretino whose sole interest in life is
murder. It is a pity,� Rosa leant further forward on the table, hands braced on
the edges, winking as she shamelessly and playfully displayed her cleavage,
�That you do not like women. I can take care of you, better than he.�
�I
like women, I just have no interest in them,� Leonardo pointedly kept his eyes
diverted. �And Ezio is not like that at all.�
�Assassino
only have one purpose, and it is being an assassino,� Rosa straightened,
patting his hand sympathetically. �He belongs to the Medici, and above that, to
his assassino della famiglia. You are his friend but you will not be
more than his friend, not unless you are part of his world.�
�I
have understood that a very long time ago, Rosa,� Leonardo said calmly, forcing
himself to hold her knowing stare. �Besides, I am nine years older than he.�
�Pah!
As though age makes any difference. Although,� Rosa said, unrelenting, �The cretino
likes women.�
�I
have known that too. Most men do.�
�Is
this because you are an artist and a philosopher?� Rosa asked
suspiciously. �Antonio said you were touched by God, by the angels. I did not
think he meant �stupid�.�
�Many
men are no doubt stupid in the eyes of women,� Leonardo smiled, as winningly as
he could, and Rosa rolled her eyes, throwing up her hands.
�Fine!
Kill yourself by pining to death over a cretino.� Rosa patted her pouch.
�But for this kind payment, I will make some effort on your behalf.�
�Effort?
Effort to what?�
�To
help you, Leonardo,� Rosa drawled, with exaggerated patience. �You want
help with Ezio, no?�
�No!�
Leonardo flushed bright red, standing up so quickly that his stool fell over
with a sharp clack on the flagstones.
�Of
course you do,� Rosa flapped one slender wrist at him dismissively. �Antonio
and I will discuss this-�
�Please
do not tell Antonio.�
�-again
later.�
�What
do you mean �again�?�
�We
will work something out,� Rosa decided blithely. �Us thieves are good at
solving locked room problems. Even if the locked room is a cretino�s
heart.�
�What
have I done to offend you, Lord?� Leonardo muttered, setting his stool straight
and slumping back down on it as Rosa patted him on the shoulder.
�Be
happy, friend Leonardo! Do not worry, you are in safe hands. And draw more
sketches. Of me, naturally.�
VIII
Antonio
took a deep and appreciative sip of the caffe that he had taken with him to the
workshop. The bitter liquid was stimulating, and Leonardo rather enjoyed it �
again, from Antonio�s pleased response, it seemed this was also rather unusual.
They had discussed Theophrastus and the theories of sensation, and were taking
a comfortable lull that Leonardo used to sketch the veins of the leaves in a
rosemary spring.
�And
about Rosa�s suggestion,� Antonio said, after a second sip, �You will be
pleased to know that we have acted upon it. Us thieves do not sit on our
laurels.�
Leonardo
choked on his caffe.
�And
so,� Antonio continued pleasantly, as though he had not noticed, �Perhaps
within the week you should expect a visit from Ezio.�
�What,�
Leonardo wiped his mouth, �Did you do?�
�You
know those pigeon coops that these assassino use to take orders from
their masters?� Antonio winked. �What paltry locks. What an even more paltry
code and seal on the pigeons' letters. So easily removed and, we shall say,
amended.�
�What.�
�Do
not worry, we will put the original mission back on another pigeon. Perhaps
even the same pigeon, a little later. He will never be any the wiser. You
cannot say that Antonio is not good to his friends,� Antonio said happily.
�Your sketch, I have framed it in the hallway. I like it. Perhaps when you have
time you can do a small painting. Only when you have time, of course.�
�Of
course,� Leonardo echoed dumbly, horrified. No. Ezio was an intelligent man.
Surely he would notice the ruse. It would only be logical. After all, he has
had many, many assignations from Lorenzo. Surely he would notice a missive that
was not in his master�s handwriting. �Which pigeon coop is this?�
�Why
spoil the surprise, friend Leonardo?� Antonio grinned. �You should enjoy life
and the things that your friends will do for your sake.�
God
hated him. Leonardo was sure of that.
�There
are many coops,� Leonardo said hopefully. �He has told me this. So he might not
see your message.�
�Oh,
we have taken care of that eventuality, of course. But it is good of you to
point it out. I am glad to see that you are getting into the spirit of things.�
Leonardo
put his head in his hands.
IX
Leonardo
was preparing to sleep, dressed in his nightshirt and setting a guttering
candle by his bedside desk, when Ezio climbed in through the window.
Sucking
on a finger burned on the hot wax from his shock, Leonardo managed a stuttered,
�Ezio? What� how, er, how can I help you?�
�You
are in grave danger,� Ezio said urgently, waving an unstoppered vial under
Leonardo�s nose. �Drink this now.�
Leonardo
tried to focus on the vial instead of on how Ezio was crowding him up against
the desk, and then he remembered. Antonio. Rosa. The pigeon. �Ezio, is
that from Antonio or Rosa?�
�Yes,
why?� Ezio asked irritably. �Well, more accurately, it is from Teodora. Drink
it.�
Leonardo
thought Teodora, prostitutes, and aphrodisiac in one single logical
train of thought and flushed. �No. And I think that you are the victim of a� a prank,
they stole your pigeon and changed the message, that drink will be, will make
me do things I will regret. That we will regret.�
�So
it is true,� Ezio frowned, his tone anxious, concerned. �The poison, you
have already taken the poison.�
�Poison?
What poison?� Leonardo ducked Ezio�s attempts to force the vial into his mouth.
�Ezio, stop!�
�You
are already talking and acting like a madman. Rosa said that would be a bad
sign. Here,� Ezio snapped, pinning him against the wall and the crook of
his arm, �Hold still.� The assassin tipped the vial into his own mouth
in an angry jerk, dropped the emptied vial, and to Leonardo�s great shock,
crushed their lips together.
Leonardo�s
mouth opened in sheer astonishment, and Ezio took the opportunity to push his
tongue down his throat, tilting back his head with a practiced flick of his
wrist. He pushed blindly at Ezio�s shoulders for one halfhearted moment, then
groaned and wrapped his arms over the assassin�s neck, pressing closer, deeper,
licking greedily into Ezio�s mouth. The liquid, on taste, was clearly plain
water flavored with a touch of vanilla essence, the kiss sweet, sinful, perfect.
It
was over too quickly, Leonardo stumbling back against the desk and thanking God
for the shadows and the thick linens of his nightshirt over his loins. Ezio
steadied him absently with a quick grasp on his arm.
�Better?�
Leonardo
stared, speechless, and Ezio exhaled loudly in frustration. �How else could I
make you drink the antidote without pouring it down your throat and risking you
throwing it back up? Teodora explained that this would be the safest method.�
So
Teodora was part of the conspiracy. Leonardo sighed. He was not surprised. �I think
you are the victim of a cruel trick, my friend.�
�I
know you think yourself immune to my world, with your powerful patrons,� Ezio
did not move, still watching him so closely, so searchingly, �But the
Barbarigo attack should already have proved otherwise to you, Leonardo. A
cunningly administered poison, slow acting, this would be the least of the
Borgia�s evil.�
Leonardo
gave up. Besides, the weak man within him was still reveling in the kiss, in
the taste of Ezio lingering on his lips. �I� er� then thank you, Ezio.�
�Go
to sleep. I will search your workshop for any clues.�
�If
you wish.� Leonardo crawled into bed, curling up quickly. He waited until Ezio
left the room before touching his lips in guilty memory.
He
slept fitfully, plagued by wanting dreams, Ezio�s mouth, Ezio�s smile,
and woke with a start, closer to dawn, looking out blearily through the window
towards the skyline. When Leonardo realized Ezio was in his room, sitting at
the foot of the bed and going through � god damn it, he had a lock on
the chest for a reason � the scrolls, he sat up quickly. He had done as Rosa
had suggested, but-
�You
look better,� Ezio said, without turning around. �And there were no clues. I
will look farther afield.�
�Did
you rest?�
�For
a time, in the spare room. I do not need much sleep.� Ezio was looking at a
scroll of Maria Auditore, her perfect hands clasped in her lap, the long,
slender fingers that her son had inherited. �This is beautiful. All of these
are beautiful. How long have you been sketching these?�
�I
always sketch in my spare time,� Leonardo said evasively, but Ezio didn�t seem
to notice, clearly happily absorbed, admiring each scroll with reverent
fingers. �You can keep some if you wish.�
�Truly?
You are very generous, my friend.�
�They
are just sketches,� Leonardo lied, watching Ezio set some aside. His mother�s
sketch, and one each of Rosa, Antonio, and Teodora. At Leonardo�s questioning
stare, Ezio hesitated.
�Could
I?�
�Of
course. As many as you like.�
�I
want to show these to her and Claudia, show them the friends I have here. You
do not have one of yourself,� Ezio added, a little accusingly.
�It
is hard to draw myself. And your family knows me.�
�Use
a mirror. My sister has not met you, and she will fall in love with you,� Ezio
grinned, all mischief, looking through another scroll. �So you were the one who
drew the portraits in the hallway, in Antonio�s palazzo.�
�Rosa
picked them.�
�No
doubt.� Leonardo leaned against the wall, watching Ezio go through the scrolls
slowly in companionable silence. The rising sun was beginning to tint the
whitewashed walls a pale red, painting Ezio�s striking features in softer
shades.
He
was almost dozing when Ezio remarked, �Most of the scrolls are of me.�
The
cold splash of reality shot Leonardo straight back to consciousness. �Of� of
course. You are the, you are my closest friend.� He should have made more
sketches of the others. �And, uh, I prefer to draw men.� Leonardo bit down on
his tongue quickly. Why had he said-
�Why?�
�The
musculature is more challenging,� Leonardo said quickly.
�I
see.� Ezio seemed to accept his explanation, carefully opening another scroll.
�Some of the paper is quite old, as well, some of mine, while all of the ones
of Antonio and the others are new.�
�I
was only recently introduced to the others,� Thank God for Rosa, who had
coached him on what to say.
�Even
the one of my mother.�
�Rosa
asked me what she looked like. I apologize, if you would rather I did not-�
�Do
not worry so much, Leonardo. Why would I not want a friend to know how beautiful
my mother is?� Ezio picked up another scroll, one of the last ones, the paper
long yellowed. �This one, the armor I am wearing� it was the day I brought you
the broken blade.�
�Yes,�
Leonardo did not know what to say, looking down at his hands. He knew he
should have burned that one. �You were� you were so tired, I did not want to
wake you. So I waited.�
�I
was so young then.� Ezio murmured, turning the sketch up into the growing light
from the waking sun. �Young and stupid.�
�We
were all young and stupid once.�
�You?
I find it hard to believe.�
�Even
me,� Leonardo said wryly, watching Ezio tuck the scroll carefully back into the
chest. �Even me.�
X
Leonardo
was reading by candlelight in his bedroom when Antonio climbed down onto the
sill. Having had long acquaintance with Ezio, Rosa and the other thieves, this
did not surprise him any longer.
�Antonio.
Ah, good to see you.�
�Leonardo,�
Antonio beamed. �Feeling better?�
Leonardo
stifled the urge to throw the book into Antonio�s face. �No, and no thanks to
you and Rosa! That was� that was outrageous. I cannot believe
your temerity-�
�All�s
well that ends well though? You are better, everyone is better.� Antonio
slipped easily into the room, straightening with a yawn.
�I
am not better,� Leonardo corrected, struggling to control his temper.
�You knew, you and Rosa, you knew and yet, to do something like
this to me when you know I love him with all my heart and my soul, how could it
not hurt me when I know it could never happen any other way? When I had to lie
to him when he asked me why most of the sketches were of him? When I had to
smile and thank him for the �antidote� when I would have gladly died to kiss
him again? No, sir, I am not feeling better, and you, sir, owe us an
apology.�
Antonio
had tried to interrupt Leonardo�s tirade at points with a raised hand, but he
refused to let him get in a single word. The kiss had been seared into him,
burned into his dreams, and it hurt to know all too well that the
thieves� trick had been beneath it all. Letting Antonio know exactly what he
felt about the thief�s meddling was� cathartic.
Up
until he realized Antonio looked somewhat more worried than he should even for
a lecture.
Up
until there were the clear sounds of someone running away on the roof, and then
a loud, ugly curse from Rosa, and another set of following footsteps, fading
away into the night.
Leonardo
exhaled, and leant back against the wall. It was clear. Perhaps in his previous
life, he had been a great sinner against God.
�Well,�
Antonio said philosophically, after an awkward silence, �If he does not kill
Rosa, I think she will be able to make things right.�
Leonardo
closed his eyes, forcing himself to slow his breathing, and then he shook his
head slowly and put his book down on the sheets. What was done was done, and if
he looked deep within him, it was aching, dull relief that all was now
known, that there were no more secrets. �Caffe?�
�I
would be pleased.�
XI
Rosa
was very contrite the next day, having even arrived with sweet, mulled wine and
a variety of delicacies and desserts. Exhausted, not having slept for the
night, Leonardo could only accept her apology with good grace.
�It
is actually a relief,� Leonardo admitted. �He might hate me now but at least I
am no longer hiding.�
�I
wish a man would say those things about me,� Rosa said, almost wistfully, and
grinned wickedly when Leonardo groaned and curled his fingers up over his
skull. �You are being dramatic. He does not hate you. He is just leaving
Venezia to think.�
�After
which he will hate me.�
�
�Nothing is true, everything is permitted�,� Rosa echoed, and Leonardo frowned,
startled. �Antonio said that is the assassino�s creed. I do not think he
will be as angry as you think. Besides, he needs you.�
�He
can easily send a messenger to me with his codex pages-�
�I
did not mean it that way,� Rosa hooked up the spare chair with her ankle and
settled down next to Leonardo. �He talks more about you than about anyone else,
even his family. He thinks the world of you.�
�As
a friend. If even that, now.�
�You
are too pessimistic. I spoke to him, remember? He does not hate you.�
�Did
he burn the sketches he took with him?�
�What
is it with you and burning sketches?� Rosa glared, folding her arms across her
ample bosom. �If he does not want them, I want them. If the cretino
has burned them I will kill him.�
�No,
no. They are not important.� Leonardo sighed, slumping down against his
workshop desk, pillowing his head on his arms. �After that problem in Firenze,
the one that Lorenzo saved me from, I thought I was beyond this. I wish now
that the Medici had never introduced me to the Auditore.�
�No
man is beyond love,� Rosa said expansively, cocking her head for a moment as
though in sudden revelation, and then she grinned mischievously and pulled over
the bottle of wine. �Come, drink. I will drink with you, and then we will go
upstairs to your bed, and I will show you how much better I can take care of
you than that ill-tempered cretino who does not deserve you.�
�The
ill-tempered cretino is here,� Ezio said dryly from the stairwell, and
Leonardo flinched, barking his knee sharply on the table as he tried to rise.
�You
must forgive me if I had thought that the ill-tempered cretino had made
good on his word to flee Venezia with the morning tide,� Rosa retorted tartly.
�Do you want Leonardo or not? If not, I intend to seduce him. If not me, then
maybe Antonio will. Or the both of us.�
�Rosa!�
�Go
away, woman,� Ezio braced a palm on the balustrade and vaulted lithely down
onto the floorboards. �I need to talk to Leonardo.�
�Do
I have to confiscate all your weapons first?� Rosa asked, meeting the
assassin�s challenging stare unflinchingly.
�I
am not going to hurt him,� Ezio said irritably.
�You
mean, any more than you already have?�
�Rosa,
please. Thank you, but I can do this myself,� Leonardo tried to sound as
determined and as confident as he could, and sounded tired instead. Rosa turned
her glare upon him, then muttered a vile imprecation under her breath and
stormed up the stairs. Ezio waited until he heard her leave from the window
(did none of his friends know how to use the door) before
shifting uncomfortably, staring at his feet.
Leonardo
broke the strained silence first. �It was the thieves� fault. A prank. If you
want to forget everything and continue to be friends, I am more than happy to
do so.�
�I
do not want that,� Ezio said fiercely, then he looked away, to the door,
hooking his fingers in his belt. �I do not know what I want.�
�I
can wait, if you wish to go away for a while.�
�If
I go away now I will not return with the right decision.� Ezio circled around
the desk, and Leonardo forced himself not to flinch as the assassin abruptly
embraced him tightly, fingers curling roughly into his shoulder, around his
ribs. �I do not like seeing you hurt.�
�It
will pass,� Leonardo whispered, burying his face against Ezio�s embroidered
collar. Warmth and leather and steel, some things did not change.
�Nor
have I ever had someone say such things about me. No one has ever wanted me
like that.�
�You
are young.�
�Listen,�
Ezio growled, just against his ear, and Leonardo shivered. �Other than my
family, there is no one more important to me than you.�
�I
said I would be happy to remain friends-� Leonardo�s words were cut off when
Ezio exhaled in exasperation and kissed him, angrily at first, all clicking
teeth and scraping tongues, then gentler, sweeter kisses that stole his breath
and thought; when Leonardo sagged in his arms, light-headed, purring
when Leonardo tentatively stroked thumbs over his ears, carded fingers through
silky hair.
�I
want to try this,� Ezio murmured, when they broke for breath and Leonardo was
gasping, dizzy and only supported upright by Ezio�s arms. �It feels right.�
�It
is against the law.�
Ezio
grinned, and Leonardo immediately felt somewhat foolish for giving his words
voice. �If I am caught by the authorities, there are far greater crimes that I
will be executed over, Leonardo.�
�Nothing
is true, everything is permitted?� Leonardo echoed, and Ezio�s grin faded, the
assassin looking at him oddly.
�Where
did you hear that?�
�Rosa.�
�I
suppose if anyone would know it would be her. Did she tell you what it was?�
�She
said it was your �creed�.�
�Perhaps
not an interpretation that my ancestors would agree with,� Ezio said, with wry
humor, but he leaned in for another kiss.
XII
�See?
Rosa fixes everything,� Rosa said, not without smugness. Teodora�s �chapel� had a
stateroom complete with velvet curtains and heavy mahogany furniture, leather
books in bolted shelves along the walls, discreet metal rings set into the
sides, and Leonardo had never really wanted to know why. At present, it was
being used as a tea room, with Teodora serving small cakes, wine, tea, in
Leonardo�s case, and caffe, in Antonio�s.
Ezio
was seated beside him, an arm draped casually over Leonardo�s shoulders. Of
necessity, it was only in private, or with the closest of friends, that
anything could be shown, but for this Leonardo was already intensely
grateful. He sipped his tea in silence, as Ezio snorted.
�You
and Antonio owed me several favors.�
�By
that accounting, you owe us a favor now,� Antonio pointed out, enveloped
in a deeply cushioned chair, in blissful caffe heaven. �Or if not you, then
Leonardo.�
�Leave
him out of this,� Ezio said, his voice not without a note of warning, but the
thieves merely chuckled.
�Oh,
now the cretino is so protective,� Rosa leaned forward to trail
fingers up Leonardo�s arm, ignoring Ezio�s glare. �Leonardo goes to Court so
very often, or the Palazzos, or the Piazzas, he meets lonely court butterflies
who have not seen so fine a man, or old men who have not feasted their eyes on
so handsome a-�
�Rosa,�
Leonardo interjected quickly, as Ezio growled. �I have no interest, as I have
said.�
�I
was not worried about you, but for you,� Rosa said sweetly, clearly
baiting Ezio, who was also clearly falling for it. Leonardo was not sure
whether or not to feel gratified.
�I
will teach him to defend himself.�
�I
do not need to learn that,� Leonardo protested, with a quick, accusing
stare at Rosa. �Nor do I have time.�
�You
will make time,� Ezio decided, leaning over to brush lips tenderly over his
ear, and Leonardo shivered, almost dropping his cup. Rosa curled back onto her
seat, seemingly satisfied, even as Teodora rolled her eyes and Antonio smirked.
�Honestly,
Leonardo. When you last told me you were in love I did not think it would be
Ezio,� Teodora said mildly, refilling his tea. �Does Ezio even know what to do
with a man?�
Leonardo
coughed. �Er��
�Or
the both of you have not�?�
�No,�
Leonardo said quickly, at the same time that Ezio snapped, �It is none of your
business.�
�Is
it Ezio? I think it is Ezio,� Rosa grinned wickedly, winking when Ezio glared
at her in turn. Antonio shook his head slowly, concentrating on his caffe.
�If
have any questions, or if you need help with your performance, feel free to
ask. At the very least, I have herbs,� Teodora said soothingly.
�I
am leaving,� Ezio said pointedly, though his ears were bright red.
�Our
rooms are always open to you, Ezio,� Teodora said, untroubled. �If you ever need a
little specialized comfort and succor from Leonardo.�
�Sister
Teodora,� Leonardo gasped, scalding his tongue.
�I
will remember that,� Ezio retorted playfully, in the place of outrage, much to
Leonardo�s surprise; he twisted around to look at the assassin, disbelieving,
and his lips slanted up against a waiting mouth.
XIII
For
all his words, however, and for all that Ezio lay now in Leonardo�s bed
whenever he visited Venezia, caresses oft turned awkward and fleeting. It was
new to Ezio, Leonardo reminded himself, each time, and he was patient. This,
after all, was already more than he could have hoped for, to kiss, to hold Ezio
in the waking dark in his arms as the assassin slept his fitful sleep.
One
night Ezio returned after three weeks in Firenze, resting his ear over
Leonardo�s heart and stroking his beautiful fingers in splaying circles down
his belly, and Leonardo was tired; it had been a long day in the Piazzo. He was
unable to stifle his moan, the quick instinctive buck of his hips. Ezio�s hand
stilled instantly.
�I
am sorry,� Leonardo said, his fingers squeezing Ezio�s shoulder nervously.
�It
is still strange,� Ezio murmured, apology in his tone. �And it has been a
year.�
�At
any time, if you wished-�
�No,�
Ezio cut in sharply. �I want you. I love you,� he added, low and fierce, making
Leonardo�s heart leap to his throat, the way he could now forgive Ezio all
things, �It is just� strange.�
�If
I could touch you instead?� Leonardo asked, emboldened, but hesitant. �You
could close your eyes,� he continued, when Ezio didn�t answer. �Pretend that
you are lying with a woman.�
�I
would not do that to you,� Ezio said gruffly, though he flicked a tongue up
along Leonardo�s jaw. �What would you do?�
�My
hands,� Leonardo rested a palm tentatively on Ezio�s thigh, sliding it higher,
just below the apex of his legs, when the assassin did not flinch away. �And
then, my mouth.�
Ezio
shuddered against him, his breath hot against his neck. �Yes.�
Divested
of clothes, however, the assassin was limp in his grasp, with Leonardo kneeling
between splayed thighs; even though Ezio shivered and moaned when Leonardo
turned tongue and teeth to dusky nipples, his free hand alternatively stroking
lean, muscular flanks or slipping down to squeeze his perfect rump. Ezio kept
his fingers on the bed, seemingly awkward, curling his fists into the sheets
when Leonardo kissed down his heaving chest to the curls between his legs, the
assassin shivering and arching when Leonardo laved soft sacs with his tongue,
the flesh in his grip firming slowly.
Ezio
gasped a curse when Leonardo licked experimentally at the tip, and he had to
hide a smile. It had been so long, and this was Ezio. He would
have to take his time. The hot shaft thickened quickly under his mouth, as he
pressed wet kisses down its length, jerking when he drew the tip of his tongue
against the wet slit, the musky, masculine scent filling his senses as he took
the now engorged head in his mouth and sucked.
The
assassin bucked with a startled yelp, almost choking Leonardo, and he held down
narrow hips quickly. He could not resist pulling back, with a wet sound
underscoring Ezio�s frustrated moan, could not resist grinning. �Surely the
women have done this for you before.�
�It
was not so good with the women,� Ezio said harshly, reaching down to push a
hand down over the back of Leonardo�s skull insistently. �Who taught you how to
do this? I will kill him tomorrow.�
Leonardo
had braced himself instinctively for the weight of old pain from older ghosts,
but to his amazement he felt only amusement as he turned back down, obliging,
swallowing inch by inch until he could take no more, and wrapping the fingers
of his right hand against what was left.
The
stretch was a barely remembered ache in his jaw as Ezio writhed and cried out,
a wounded, hoarse sound that twisted lust in a sudden painful throb in his own
loins. Leonardo ignored it, breathing hard through his nose and sucking harder,
stroking his tongue against the throbbing vein against it. Fingers curled
painfully into his shoulders, his hair, and then Ezio snarled, bucking roughly
up into his throat as he spent himself. Leonardo drew back hastily, coughing,
swallowing what he could and wiping the rest over the back of his hand.
Ezio
looked delicious, sprawled and dazed, naked against his sheets and wetting his
lips with his tongue, breathing hard. He opened his mouth, trying to form
words, managed a croak, then a wry grin; Leonardo was reminded all too
pointedly of his body�s own needs, and, licking his own lips, tried to slip off
the bed.
The
assassin caught him quickly by the arm. �Where�� Ezio cleared his throat.
�Where are you going?�
�Ah,
the, washing facilities,� Leonardo said awkwardly. �I want to kiss you, and,
right now, I will not taste very-�
�You
have not finished,� Ezio looked pointedly at the tent in his nightshirt.
�I
will do that in the facilities.� Leonardo squirmed, uncomfortably aroused. The
scent of Ezio�s sex was still thick in the room, and he was beginning to find
it difficult to breathe.
�Take
this off,� Ezio said irritably, his free hand plucking at Leonardo�s
nightshirt. �I will use my hands.�
�You,
you do not need to-�
�I
want to,� Exasperation. �Now, Leonardo.�
Self-consciously,
Leonardo removed his nightshirt, fully naked for the first time before his
lover, feeling awkward as callused fingers ran curiously over his ribs, over
his belly and his flanks, his thighs, knuckles brushing up against his
cheekbones, curling down his spine, splaying down to his hips. Ezio sat up,
pulling him up against him, licking tentatively at his mouth, and then pulling
a face.
�See,�
Leonardo said dryly, but he stilled when Ezio closed one of his perfect hands
over his flesh, the assassin licking a path down to his neck, then abruptly
sinking his teeth into his shoulder even as he jerked roughly � almost too
roughly � at Leonardo�s shaft. When he shattered, instantly, he did so with a
broken moan, pleasure swift and so unforgivingly intense that it burned.
XIV
�Tomorrow
I go to Roma,� Ezio murmured against his back, his moustache and beard scratchy
against his shoulder. They were both spent, first in the workshop, despite
Leonardo�s protests, and then again in their bed. �It will be a while. And I
may not return.� When Leonardo did not answer, instead hunching his shoulders,
Ezio sighed, and pressed a kiss against the arch of his spine. When they
tangled again in the morning it was urgent, desperate.
Alone
in his workshop, later, cleaning up with scents and rags, Leonardo considered
leaving. Leaving for Milan.
XV
The
workshop that the Duke of Milan provides him with is more spacious by far than
Venezia�s, but Leonardo disdains servants, preferring a solitary, private life
outside of the necessity of Court.
He
does not think about Roma, or the rumors. Pope Alexander IV still lives,
despite the turmoil that had overtaken Roma for a time, and by that standard,
Leonardo thinks, grimly, that he is right to leave Venezia after all, Venezia
and her memories that turn crueler in the dust.
He
hopes that it was quick for Ezio, that there was no suffering.
Leonardo
manages to put the finishing touches on his commission for the Confraternity of
the Immaculate Conception with only minor intellectual interruptions, and is
beginning his sketches for the Last Supper, when a voice behind him
observes, mildly, �Milan is pleasant in the summer.�
Leonardo
bites down hard on his lip, and does not turn. �It is a little too early in the
day for a haunting.�
An
exhalation, so familiarly exasperated, and arms encircle him tightly from
behind, a kiss presses against his neck, stubble tickling his skin; Leonardo
turns, disbelieving. �You.�
�Me,�
Ezio admits, playfully, caressing one hand up to his arm, his shoulder, his
cheek, and rests his forehead against Leonardo.
�Pope
Alexander lives.�
�Aye.�
�I
thought you were dead.�
�I
know.� A soft breath. �I am sorry. I should have sent word.�
�When
you saw that I had left Venezia�?�
�I
was angry,� Ezio confesses. �And busy. And,� he adds, brushing his thumb
tenderly over Leonardo�s bitten lip, �Foolish.�
�Ah.�
A whisper, as lips follow Ezio�s thumb, sweet and inevitable and complete.
[fin?
O_o Good lord, 22 pages.]
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Vitruvian Man