Work Text:
Rome, 1503
Despite everything, it could have been far, far worse.
Leonardo may have been a prisoner in all but name, forced to labor for the very same people whom he'd previously worked to sabotage and faced with the constant threat of violence if he did not comply with their demands, but he was alive, at least. Alive, and in relative safety, with an adequate (if somewhat small) workshop and all the necessary materials for his work. Of all the cages to be trapped in, he supposed that this was among the better of them.
Still, a cage was a cage. Leonardo bent over the schematics strewn across his workbench and cursed, for the umpteenth time, the insufficient natural light in his workshop. They had given him a room in the Castello (for his "protection," they'd claimed) and while it did feature two large windows, when the day grew late and the sun slipped behind the peak of the fortress, as it now had, the workshop became prematurely dark. After over a month of enduring this, Leonardo had worked up the nerve to complain to the Borgia captain overseeing his work. While not expecting an apology, he had hoped for better than a derisive sneer and a warning to "Remember at whose pleasure you serve, Maestro." They had brought him an additional box of candles, at least.
In the fading light, Leonardo continued to make small adjustments to the design before him. The war machine was nearing completion, but something about it seemed off in a way he could not describe, no matter how fervently his "patrons" may demand explanation. He had come close to solving the problem on several occasions, but each time had encountered another glaring flaw just as he was about declare the project complete it. Despite the circumstances and the knowledge of how his inventions would be used, Leonardo could not help but take pride in his work. He could not allow a blueprint to leave his workshop if he had not felt the familiar satisfactory warmth at a job well done flow through him— now followed immediately by a wave of self-hatred.
But there was hope now. Just that afternoon, while out on the pretense of purchasing new supplies, he had finally managed to track down Ezio. As much as it worried Leonardo to know that he was sending his friend into not just one, but several dens of vipers, the thought of what Cesare's armies could do with the war machines was worse. And besides, Ezio had proven time and time again that he was more than capable of the task at hand. What was a garrison of Borgia soldiers to a master assassin?
Leonardo's musings were interrupted by a scuffing noise behind him. He paused, pen in hand, to listen more closely. Nothing. He furrowed his brow and leaned back over the drawing.
The same noise again. This time, Leonardo put down the pen and looked over his shoulder. Still nothing. I must be getting tired, he thought, before turning back to the workbench and resuming his work.
His heart nearly leapt out of chest out the sound of a dull thump as something hit the ground just feet behind him. He grabbed a chisel from the workbench and whirled around to see a hooded figure drop in through the window.
The chisel clattered to the floor. "Ezio!" Leonardo said in a hushed voice.
Ezio straightened and pulled down his hood. "Leonardo," he said with a crooked smile. That was one thing the years had not changed.
Leonardo picked the chisel up from the floor and set on the workbench. "Ezio, what are you doing here?" he asked, heart still pounding.
Ezio stepped further into the room. "I wanted to be certain that you were safe. I was concerned that someone may have seen our meeting."
"You needn't worry," Leonardo said. "Though I appreciate the concern. I have learned to be careful in Roma." He glanced nervously out the window behind Ezio. "You are certain no one saw you enter?"
"Positive," Ezio said, with a glint in his eye that Leonardo knew meant some kind of dastardly cleverness had allowed for his friend's undetected ingress. The word genius had followed Leonardo for much of his career, and while he had certainly not denied it, the true genius, in his eye, was not the constant churning of his own mind but the sharp, decisive cunning of Ezio's. Leonardo had known Ezio long enough to know that his collected, casual persona was frequently a ruse, but it did not change the fact that underneath it all was a mind that could find its way out of even the most of dire of cirumstances.
"I am glad." Leonardo smiled, though his anxiety remained. "And it was kind of you to think of me, amico."
Ezio shrugged. "It is nothing," he said, leaning against a nearby table. Leonardo frowned. Ezio was moving strangely, almost gingerly. Leonardo studied him for a moment. There, a slight hitch in his breath as he inhaled. Ezio was injured, likely in his torso. And in pain.
Leonardo stepped forward. "You are hurt."
Ezio waved a hand dismissively. "Do not trouble yourself. I am fine."
"Ezio." Leonard stepped closer. "You snuck into the most heavily guarded building in Roma to ensure my safety. Examining your wound is the least I can do."
Ezio squinted at him. "You will not move on this, will you?"
Leonardo crossed his arms. "When have I ever?"
Ezio sighed. "Fine. If it will stop you worrying, then very well."
"Perfetto," Leonardo said, clasping his hands together with a smile. He began to clear the sketches and schematics off his workbench, thankful it gave him the opportunity to avoid Ezio's gaze. As much as he wanted to treat his friend's injury, he could not shake his lingering nervousness. It had been some time since he had played played physician to Ezio, and though he was happy to do it, he was acutely aware of how things had changed since then. But that was unimportant in the face of his immediate concerns. Pushing his doubts aside, he patted the now open space on the workbench. "Up here, when you are ready, Ezio."
"One moment, amico mio." Ezio slipped his cape off his shoulder and began to remove his armor and weapons, starting with his sword belt, then his pauldrons, then his doublet and chest armor. Finally, with only his undershirt and hidden blade remaining on his upper body, he lifted himself onto the surface of the workbench with a visible wince.
Leonardo placed a gentle hand on Ezio's back. "Lay down now, slowly." Ezio grimaced as he turned and reclined, even with Leonardo helping him ease his weight down. His obvious discomfort worried Leonardo. Whatever the injury, it was clearly causing Ezio enough pain that he could not easily hide it.
Leonardo grabbed a nearby sheet and rolled it into a makeshift pillow. "Raise your head for a moment." Ezio complied, and Leonardo slipped the cloth beneath his head. "Better?"
Ezio nodded. He looked better, too, though his shoulders remained tense. Leonardo suppressed the urge the offer to help relieve some of the tension, or at least to lean in and brush the loose hairs off Ezio's forehead.
"Good." Leonardo swallowed, hoping his apprehension was not obvious. Before Ezio could notice that something was amiss, he reached forward and began to roll up Ezio's shirt.
The assassin's torso was haphazardly wrapped with bandages from below his navel to a hand's breadth below his pectorals. The dressings looked like they hadn't been changed for a day or more, with sweat stains along the top and a few spots of blood soaked through near Ezio's hip.
Leonardo wrinkled his nose in disgust at the shoddy workmanship. "What is the name of the dottore who treated this wound? I would like to have words with him about his methods."
"You can do so now, if you wish," Ezio said wryly. "There was no dottore."
Leonardo raised his eyebrows. "You dressed the wound yourself?"
"Si." Ezio looked up at Leonardo with a playful smile. "Why, should I not have?"
Leonardo shook his head. "I swear, Ezio, your stubbornness will be the death of both of us." He placed a hand on the workbench, just next to Ezio's shoulder. "Tell me how this happened. I want to know what I am dealing with before I remove the bandages."
"A lucky hit," Ezio grumbled. "I had the bastardo cornered on a rooftop when a tile broke under my foot. I lost my balance and nearly fell, which gave his friends time to catch up with me. I had to fend four of them off at once. One caught me with his dagger while my back was turned."
Leonardo winced, though he knew it could have been far worse. "How deep is the cut?"
"Deep enough to bleed."
"Helpful," Leonardo muttered. "And how long ago was this?"
Ezio furrowed his brow. "A few days. Four, I think."
"Very well." Leonardo rolled up his sleeves. "I am going to remove the dressings now, if you are amenable."
"Whatever you you think is best, maestro," Ezio said, settling back onto the bundle of cloth below his head.
Leonardo swallowed and tried to ignore the brief sense of warmth that swelled in his chest as Ezio closed his eyes and relaxed, as much as it was possible to relax into a slab of wood. With practiced, deft hands, Leonardo picked up his snippers and began to cut away the bandages wrapped around Ezio's torso. The material gave way after just a few cuts and fell freely onto the workbench in a loose pile.
Leonardo's breath faltered in his throat as he pulled the bandages to the side and revealed the wound. It was deeper than he'd expected, a brutal gash that curved from the assassin's side down towards his pelvis. Ezio, for all his many talents, was no physician, and while he had covered the wound well enough, he had done little in the way of actually treating it. The bleeding had stopped, for now, but the cut was far too large to be left open like this. Worse, the skin around it looked tight and painfully red. Without thinking, Leonardo laid his fingers against the flushed skin.
Ezio flinched away at the contact with a hiss of pain. "My apologies," Leonardo said, quickly withdrawing his hand. Ezio waved dismissively at his friend's apology, though his jaw remained clenched. Leonardo swallowed down his rush of guilt.
"The skin is warm, and I fear the wound may be inflamed," he continued, peering in to examine the cut more closely. "Ezio, this is rather deep. Why did you not stitch it closed?"
Ezio shrugged. The jolt of pain seemed to have lessened. "I did not think it was necessary."
Leonardo raised his eyebrows. "Did not think it was necessary, or did not wish to do it?"
"Does the distinction matter?"
"It matters when your wellbeing hangs in the balance," Leonardo sighed. He turned away from the workbench and towards the shelves holding his medical supplies. "I'll need to cleanse the wound before I can stitch it," he called over his shoulder. "As well as apply a poultice, perhaps find something to help with the—"
Leonardo froze. He'd heard something from the hallway, a shuffling noise. The scuff of a boot, maybe. He held his breath, waiting for the sound to return.
"Leonardo?" Ezio sat up on the table. "Is everything alright?"
Leonardo pressed a finger to his lips and Ezio paused. "I heard something," the artist whispered. "I think it may—" The blood drained from his face as he heard the sound again. He was certain this time that it was footsteps, closer and clearer than before.
In a flash, Ezio was up off the workbench. Before Leonardo even realized what was happening, the assassin had crossed the room and pressed himself against the door, his hidden blade extended and at the ready. His face was set in a razor-sharp focus as he listened.
The footsteps grew closer. Leonardo swallowed. He needed to move, to hide Ezio's clothing and spread the plans for the war machines back across the workbench so he could pretend that he'd been hard at work all this time. But he could not. He was frozen, by fear and by the sight of Ezio stood poised and ready to strike at his door.
They waited. The sound of the footsteps— only one set of them— grew louder. Leonardo saw Ezio draw in a breath and hold it. The footsteps paused just outside the door. Then, after a few agonizing moments, he heard the scrape of a boot turning, and the footsteps receded back into the hallway.
Ezio's blade slipped back into its sheath. Leonardo nearly collapsed with relief. "Cazzo," he muttered under his breath as he leaned against a side table. His heart was still pounding so loud he could hear it in his ears. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing.
Two hands gripped his shoulders. His eyes flew open in surprise, and he was faced with Ezio, staring straight into him with a piercing gaze.
"Do they hurt you?" Ezio said, his voice low and dangerous.
Leonardo blinked. "Ezio? What do you…"
"The Borgia." Ezio's jaw was tight even as he spoke. "Do they hurt you?"
Leonardo drew in a shaky breath. "I am fine, Ezio."
Ezio's eyes narrowed as he looked down into Leonardo's. Something passed over his gaze, like a cloud blocking out the sun for just a moment. Then it was gone, and his grip on Leonardo's shoulders loosened just slightly.
"Caro mio," he murmured. "Do not lie to me."
Slowly, Leonardo reached out and pressed his hand against Ezio's chest. "I am not," he whispered as Ezio's heartbeat drummed against his palm.
Ezio sighed. "Leonardo…"
"They do not hurt me," Leonardo said firmly. "They intimidate me, yes, to keep me in line, but they do not harm me. They know they cannot afford to. They need me to design their machines so they can wage their war. I cannot do that with a broken body." He tried to end with a wry smile, but could not force his face into the position.
Ezio's brow furrowed. "But?"
Leonardo closed his eyes. He had hoped to avoid this. "But. When they first brought me here, I fought back. I knew I lacked the strength to prevent them from taking me, but I thought I could find… other ways to resist them. I drew them schematics with disguised fatal flaws, built prototypes that would fall apart after a few uses. I thought I had covered my tracks and that the incidents would be viewed either as coincidence or errors on the part of the operators. But I was mistaken." Leonardo's breath faltered. "They found me out in… relatively short order," he said with a wince. He could still feel the impacts of guards' boots and fists against his body.
Ezio's fingers were gentle as they brushed against the underside of Leonardo's chin. "And since then?"
"Since then, I have not had the stomach for resistance," Leonardo said bitterly.
"But they have not laid a finger on you since?" Ezio had a look in his eye, a look that Leonardo knew. It was one of determination, one that meant he would go to the ends of the earth to do what he had set his mind to. And in that moment, Leonardo realized with a cold thrill, it meant that Ezio would kill every last guard in the Castello if Leonardo said the word.
Tempting as it was, however, he could not allow that. "No, amico," Leonardo said. "They have not."
That seemed to finally satisfy Ezio enough for his jaw to unclench and his shoulders to relax. "I am sorry I was not there to protect you. If I were, this entire situation might have been avoided."
"Do not be sorry. You had more pressing concerns." Leonardo patted Ezio's chest. "Speaking of which. I never finished with that wound of yours."
Ezio let out a playful sigh, but dutifully returned to the workbench. This time, however, he stooped next to it and unfastened his boots before setting them off to the side. Then, he loosened the buckles on his bracers and slipped off both hidden blades, setting them aside, as well. Finally, he stripped off his undershirt and climbed up onto the bench.
Once again, Leonardo put a hand on Ezio's back to help ease him down. As his fingers brushed against the now-bare skin, he felt something. A scar, and one he did not recognize. Curious, he peered around Ezio's side to get a better look.
The scar was an ugly, gnarled mark just next to Ezio's shoulderblade. Leonardo ran a finger over it, feeling the bumps and ridges. "Ezio," he said quietly. "What caused this?"
Ezio's breath caught in his throat. "Monteriggioni." The word came out stiffly, like he had to fight to get it out of his mouth. "A Borgia bullet."
Leonardo breathed in shakily. "Ezio…"
"I never even saw the gunman." Ezio's jaw trembled almost imperceptibly. "All I know is I felt the bullet hit my back in the same moment that I saw Cesare fire one into Mario's head."
Leonardo felt sick to his stomach. His gun. His bullets. His invention. He had known all too well the purpose of the weapons when he had first been forced to make them, and had heard enough whispers of what transpired at Monteriggioni to surmise the specifics, but assuming and hearing the words from Ezio's mouth were two very different feelings. "Ezio," he whispered. "I cannot apologize enough—"
"Do not." Ezio looked Leonardo in the eye. "Do not blame yourself, my friend. It was not you who pulled the trigger. "
"It may as well have been," Leonardo said miserably. He was so preoccupied with his feelings of self-loathing that he almost didn't feel Ezio's hand touch his chin.
"Leonardo," the assassin said, voice equal parts tired and tender. "I know the feelings of guilt and regret better than I'd care to admit. So believe me when I say that they will do you no good. They cannot fix what's broken anymore than they can bring back the dead." A faint crease appeared between his eyebrows. "It took me twenty five years to accept that."
For once, Leonardo went quiet. Ezio's fingers continued to brush over his skin. After a moment, he cleared his throat and said, "Let me stitch that cut closed."
Ezio smiled and allowed Leonardo to help him back down onto the workbench. He made a soft noise of relief as his head sank into the sheet Leonardo had rolled into a pillow. While he still moved carefully and with clear discomfort, he seemed far more relaxed than before, as if the tension had flowed out of him.
Once he was confident that Ezio was sufficiently comfortable, Leonardo busied himself with collecting his supplies. He filled his arms with jars and amphorae and returned to the bench, where Ezio lay looking at him expectantly. Leonardo set the supplies down on the bench and laid a careful hand on Ezio's abdomen.
"You will tell me if the pain is too great?" he said, giving Ezio a look that he hoped communicated that he was not so much requesting as instructing. Ezio nodded dutifully. "Bene. I will begin by cleansing the wound. This may sting. Do you want something to bite?" Ezio shook his head, and Leonardo took it as his sign to begin.
He lifted a pitcher of diluted wine and poured a small amount into a bowl. He then took a clean cloth and dipped it in the liquid and wrang out the excess. With a gentle touch as a warning, he pressed the cloth against the gash in Ezio's side.
To his credit, the younger man did not flinch away from the press of the cloth or the smart of the alcohol in the wound. His jaw clenched and he breathed slowly through his nose as Leonardo cleaned away the layers of sweat and dirt that had gathered beneath the bandages, dipping periodically into the bowl to clean the cloth. He breathed a sigh of relief when Leonardo dropped the rag into the bowl and set it aside.
Leonardo chuckled lightly. "You know that is not the worst of it, caro."
"I do," Ezio said with a wince. "But I am nonetheless grateful it is over."
Unable to argue with that, Leonardo moved his mortar and pestle onto the bench and began to add ingredients. "This should help with the pain," he said, picking up the pestle and grinding the herbs together. "And hopefully bring down the inflammation. Provided you don't injure yourself further with overexertion," he added with a significant look.
Ezio had the decency to at least try and look bashful. "I am always careful."
Leonardo did not respond to that, only raised an eyebrow as he poured a small amount of water into the mortar. He mixed the mixture further with the pestle until it turned into a thick paste. "That should suffice," he said. He looked down at Ezio with a grim expression. "This is going to hurt."
That it certainly did. In contrast to his reaction to having the wound cleaned, Ezio lay deathly still as Leonardo carefully daubed the mixture along the inside of the gash. His eyes stared straight into the ceiling, his hands were clenched into tight fists, and the only response he gave to the prodding was a single, pulsing tendon in his neck. After what could have been minutes or months of ministrations, Leonardo stepped back.
"That's the worst of it," he said, wiping sweat from his brow. "How do you feel?"
Ezio groaned and covered his eyes with his forearm. "Tell me you are nearly finished."
"I am." Leonardo retrieved his needle and thread. "The only thing left is to close the wound. I promise to be as quick as possible."
True to his word, Leonardo's fingers worked nimbly as they stitched along the cut, closing it in relatively short order. He set the needle off to the side and helped Ezio into a sitting position. After returning to his shelves of supplies to fetch the bandages he'd forgotten, he set to work wrapping Ezio's torso in layers of the fabric. Once he was finally satisfied that the wound was adequately protected, he took a step back to survey his work.
"There we are," he said with a smile. "Good as new." He paused for a moment. "Well, perhaps not quite, but it is a marked improvement."
Ezio placed a hand on Leonardo's shoulder. "Thank you, amico."
Leonardo patted him gently on the knee. "It is no trouble at all, my friend. I am happy to do it." He knew that he should remove his hand from Ezio's leg, then. That he should help his friend gather his shed clothing and leave before they were discovered. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Perhaps it was his weariness, or the loneliness of months of captivity, but something kept him standing there, close enough to watch Ezio's eyes flick almost imperceptibly back and forth.
He couldn't have said how it happened. But one moment he was caught between his conscience and his desire for human touch, and the next Ezio's lips were on his. Leonardo melted into the touch after just a moment of surprise. He wrapped his arms around Ezio's torso and pulled him in closer. Ezio seemed to delight in this, threading his fingers into Leonardo's hair and swallowing the groan that escaped the artist's throat as he deepened their kiss.
Eventually, Leonardo pulled back, gasping for air. Ezio looked down at him with sparkling eyes and wet lips. "Shall we continue this somewhere more comfortable?" he asked with one of his devastating crooked smiles.
Leonardo answered by pulling Ezio down into another kiss. Stumbling, he led them away from the workbench and into the corner where his bed stood. Considering that he was rather distracted, he should not have been suprised when his legs hit the side of the bed and he realized he'd misjudged the distance.
He fell unceremoniously onto the covers. Ezio, ever graceful, climbed on top with a smirk and bent down to lay kisses across his jaw. Leonardo reached out and gripped Ezio's side with a firm hand.
"Careful, amore," he warned. "The stitches may not hold if you strain them."
"Hm." Ezio began to trail his kisses downward. Leonardo shivered as Ezio's tongue flicked over his pulse point. "Then I am lucky to have you here to replace them, maestro."
"Ezio, I am serious—" Leonardo's concerns were cut off by his own sharp intake of breath as Ezio, who had managed to work open the top of Leonardo's shirt, left a bruising kiss on the artist's collarbone. "Ezio," he breathed. He wrapped a hand around the back of the younger man's neck.
"Everything alright?" Ezio asked, retreating. His hair was coming loose, a few strands already stuck to his forehead with sweat.
Leonardo's thumb stroked gently over Ezio's side. "As much as I love to have your marks on me, we should be cautious of where you leave them," he said apologetically. "And you really must be mindful of those stitches. If you feel them pulling—"
"Then I will stop," Ezio finished. "I promise. And you are right that we should be careful. Where can I mark you, caro?"
Leonardo thought for a moment. "Anywhere below the clavicle should be safe. So long as it will be covered."
"You spoil me, maestro," Ezio said with a grin, before looking down at Leonardo's still-clothed chest and raising an eyebrow. "Though I am afraid there remains something of a barrier to my errand."
Leonardo tugged Ezio down until their faces were nearly touching. "Then relieve me of it," he breathed, relishing the shiver that ran through the assassin.
Ezio fell on him with both hands and mouth. His nimble, practiced fingers undid the laces of Leonardo's clothing and tossed them off to the side, all while his lips lavished attention over every successive bit of skin he exposed. As promised, he nipped and sucked at Leonardo's skin along his way, leaving a winding path of forming bruises across the older man's torso. Leonardo threw his head back with a wordless moan as Ezio's tongue flicked over his left nipple, then had to suppress a gasp as he felt teeth close around the same spot. After what felt like an eternity, he received the briefest of reprieves when Ezio pulled away to strip off his own trousers.
When Ezio began to climb back onto the bed, Leonardo seized the opportunity to take the assassin's face into his hands and pull him into a deep kiss. Ezio parted his lips instantly to allow Leonardo's tongue into his mouth with a contented hum. Leonardo's fingers found the ribbon holding Ezio's hair in place and untied it, allowing him to finally run his hands along Ezio's scalp.
As predicted, Ezio responded beautifully to the touch, moaning deeply into Leonardo's mouth at the gentle tug of fingers on his hair. Spurred on by the sound, Leonardo pulled again, and harder. This time, Ezio's mouth slipped away from Leonardo's as his hips bucked down and he let out another moan.
"Leonardo," he groaned, hips still thrusting down as if of their own accord. "Per favore."
The artist grinned and pulled Ezio's face back down towards his own. "Just returning the favor, amore."
"Bastardo," Ezio muttered, though the press of his hardening cock against Leonardo's thigh undermined his complaint. In one smooth motion, he ducked in for another kiss as he ground their loins together.
Leonardo hummed at the friction. His free hand traced the shifting muscles of Ezio's back as the younger man's hips slid back and forth against his own, every brush of skin against skin drawing a shudder or sharp breath from one of them. Ezio's mouth remained persistent he laid deep, passionate kisses across Leonardo's lips.
Ezio bore down with a particular angle, and Leonardo's hips jerked upwards of their own accord. He could feel the pounding of his heart and the rushing of his blood all throughout his body, stronger than the coursing of the fastest river. It was nearly enough to drag him under. Ezio, evidently, noticed this, and slowed his assault on Leonardo's mouth and loins long enough to allow him to catch his breath.
While Leonardo collected himself, Ezio's hand found its way underneath the artist's jawbone, his thumb stroking the other man's face affectionately. After a few moments of this, Leonardo's racing heart heart calmed, and Ezio looked down at him with a smile.
"I am quite content to continue like this," Ezio said, eyes glinting gold in the rapidly fading light. "But I am open to suggestions should you prefer to take a different course." To punctuate the point, he removed his hand from Leonardo's cheek and laid it gently on the artist's hipbone.
Leonardo took a steadying breath and let his eyes wander over the scene before him. Ezio made a beautiful picture like this. The thin sheen of sweat across his torso caught the light of the setting sun just right, highlighting the curves and edges of his muscles as he moved. Leonardo could have happily spent the rest of his life basking in the light of Ezio's glorious body, and wanted nothing more than to draw it close and let the night take them. But as muscled and lithe as that body might be, Ezio was not as young as he once was. Not to mention the very recently treated wound in his side. It would not be wise to let their activities take a more rigorous turn.
And yet. With Ezio's face so near, the familiar heat of his body pressing close after far too long apart, Leonardo felt his resolve slipping. Against his better judgement, he reached out and pulled Ezio in until their noses nearly touched.
"When you fuck me," he whispered. "Do not be so reckless that you risk reopening the wound."
Ezio's eyes darkened. "I would not dream of it, caro," he murmured, and fell upon Leonardo with open lips and burning fingers. His tongue slipped easily into Leonardo's mouth and his hands gripped the other man's hips with a renewed urgency. Those nimble fingers stripped away the final layers of clothing separating them, and Leonardo moaned into the kiss as he felt Ezio's bare cock slide against his. The touch was like lightning against his skin, each brush sending a shiver up his spine.
Leonardo caught himself before a deeply undignified whine excaped his throat as Ezio pulled away from his face. To his pleasure, rather than climb off him entirely, the younger man ducked his head and began to trail kisses down Leonardo's torso. Somewhat belatedly, Leonardo realized that his fingers were still tangled in Ezio's hair, so he began to once again stroked tenderly along Ezio's scalp. Ezio hummed appreciatively at the touch as he moved downward.
When he reached Leonardo's navel, Ezio paused and looked upwards. "Amore," he whispered, his breath tickling among the hairs on Leonardo's stomach. "Do you have oil?"
Reluctantly, Leonardo extricated his hand from Ezio's hair and leaned over towards his nightstand. After a moment or so of rifling through the contents of its drawers, he retrieved a small vial of oil and pressed it into Ezio's hand.
Ezio grinned up at him. "Always so well prepared, my maestro."
His. Leonardo tried to ignore the flutter the word sent through his heart as he replied, "Always for you, my friend."
Ezio slid down the mattress. "Then I can only hope to live up to the standard you've set," he whispered, then turned his head and pressed a kiss to the inside of Leonardo's thigh. Without any further ado, he slicked his fingers with oil and slipped them between Leonardo's legs.
When they'd first begun to lay together, Leonardo had been surprised by Ezio's gentleness. This man, so full of youth and vigor, had touched him so tenderly and softly, rather than give him the vigorous fucking he'd expected. It took some time for Leonardo to realize just how foolhardy his assumptions had been. Ezio lived a life of death and violence, yes, but he held so much love and kindness in himself. For all his bravado, he craved the gentle warmth of companionship as much as anyone else. While they had certainly enjoyed many the lively, passionate night together over the years, Leonardo had always prided himself on being able to give Ezio the softness he needed, if only for a little while.
Tonight, however, Ezio pressed forward with noted urgency. Leonardo's neck arched backwards and he bit back a moan as Ezio's finger circled his entrance. The sound seemed to only spur Ezio on further, and he pushed further inside. "Ezio," Leonardo breathed, eyes shut tight.
In an instant, the younger man's face was beside his. "Everything alright, caro?" Ezio murmured, kissing Leonardo lightly on the cheek.
Leonardo pried his eyes open. It had been so long since anyone touched him like this. Every touch burned like fire against his skin, every feeling was amplified as it ran through his body. It was utterly overwhelming, and he desperately wanted more of it.
With effort, he reached up and tucked a lock of Ezio's hair behind his ear. "Do not stop," he whispered, and watched Ezio's expression of concern shift into something far more mischievous.
Rather than verbally acknowledge Leonardo's request, Ezio responded by slipping a second finger into him. Leonardo groaned at the feeling, a shiver running up his spine. Then Ezio forked his fingers, and the moan twisted into a strangled cry as Leonardo felt himself stretched ever wider. Ezio chuckled at the sound, and Leonardo's jaw snapped shut as a flush spread across his face.
"Come now, amore," Ezio said with a soothing pat to Leonardo's side. "I do not mean to mock you. You know how I love when you sing for me, and it has been far too long since I heard you."
Leonardo shuddered as Ezio punctuated the point by curling his fingers. "I do not wish to deny you the pleasure, dearest." His thumb traced the outline of Ezio's ear. "But I do not wish to attract undue attention, either."
A shadow crossed Ezio's face then faded as quickly as it had appeared. "Of course, caro," he murmured, then ducked his head into the base of Leonardo's neck, and both their consternation was forgotten as his tongue made contact with the artist's skin.
When Ezio resurfaced, he was panting, and Leonardo felt a small swell of pride at the knowledge that his friend was so affected by the act of kissing him. Ezio looked down at Leonardo with wet lips and hungry eyes as he asked, "Are you ready for me, amore?"
Leonardo nodded and bit back a discomforted groan at the empty feeling left behind when Ezio withdrew his fingers. He watched with barely-restrained anticipation as Ezio poured oil over his hand. The younger man let out a low moan as he brought the hand down and slicked his cock with a few quick strokes. Then, without so much as a word, he pressed forward and pushed in.
Leonardo's back arched off the bed as Ezio slid inside him, his entrance burning as he was stretched past where Ezio's fingers had taken him. He could not help but revel in the feeling. It had been so long, and yet it felt so familiar, so comfortable, so natural. He let his legs fall further open, beckoning Ezio in deeper.
"Leonardo," Ezio panted from above. He thrust carefully forward, groaning as his cock burrowed deeper into Leonardo's tight entrance. "Dio mio, Leonardo, it has been too long."
Leonardo could only moan in agreement. He rolled his hips upward, drawing another beautiful sound of pleasure from his lover's mouth. "Fuck me, Ezio," he managed between ragged breaths. "Please, amore. I need to feel you."
Evidently, that was all the invitation Ezio needed. He began slowly, moving his hips back and forth with careful, measured movements. Leonardo greeted each thrust with the movement of his own hips and a soft moan. Once Ezio was seemingly satisfied that Leonardo was adjusting, his pace increased. His thrusts grew deeper and more frequent with every second, and before long he was slamming deep into Leonardo.
"Ezio!" Leonardo tried to keep control over the volume of his voice, but Ezio's relentless pace made it difficult. His fingers found their way back into Ezio's hair and tugged gently.
"Leonardo, carissimo," Ezio moaned. He threw his head back as Leonardo pulled on his hair again. "Cazzo, Leonardo, but I have missed you," he said in a voice full of wonder. As he pulled back for his next thrust, he adjusted the angle of his hips just slightly, and when he pushed in again he hit a spot that made the corners of Leonardo's vision turn black.
Leonardo's mouth fell open with a strangled moan. As he felt something begin to curl and pool deep within his abdomen, it occurred to him that his own cock still lay dripping and largely untouched against his stomach. He could reach between the two of them and stroke himself, he knew, but elected instead to pull Ezio's face near to his as he panted, "I am close, amore."
Without a word, Ezio leaned down and captured Leonardo's mouth in a kiss. As his tongue traced over lips and teeth, his hand slipped downward and wrapped around Leonardo's aching cock. Leonardo moaned wantonly into the kiss as Ezio's hand stroked him without reprieve. Every hair on his body stood on end, every inch of his skin felt like fire as he basked in the feeling of Ezio in and around him.
"Come for me, caro," Ezio whispered, and Leonardo would not have dreamt of disobeying. He felt himself clench down on Ezio's cock as his orgasm tore through his body. He writhed and moaned amid the waves of rolling pleasure, no longer caring who might hear. With just a few more thrusts, he felt Ezio's cock twitch as he joined Leonardo in pleasure.
How much time passed before his senses returned to him, Leonardo could not say. All he knew was that after what could have been moments or hours Ezio pulled out of him, eliciting a hiss of discomfort at the feeling of emptiness. Ezio shushed him with soft noises and softer kisses before climbing out of bed to retrieve a cloth. When he returned, he cleaned the two of them up as best he could, then tossed the cloth aside and lay next to Leonardo, gathering him in his arms.
Leonardo pressed his forehead against Ezio's. "I have missed you."
Ezio hummed softly and pecked him on the lips. "And I you, amore." His fingers traced twisting patterns along Leonardo's side. "You are as exquisite as always, my love."
"As are you," Leonardo said with a smile. His hand was pressed against Ezio's pectorals, more by happenstance than anything else. Never one to turn down an opportunity, however, he took advantage of it, scratching lightly at the wiry hair as he enjoyed the sculpted topography of Ezio's chest.
Ezio chuckled. "And here I thought you'd had your fill of me."
Leonardo tapped his fingers on Ezio's chest. "Can you blame me? I've spent months locked in the castello with little scenery but my own walls and the Borgia's guards."
"I take it they do not make for pleasant viewing?"
Leonardo made a face. "Certainly not."
Ezio wrapped his arm around Leonardo's waist. "Then I am happy to be of service," he said with an affectionate smile, and Leonardo could not help but reward him with a kiss.
They could have laid there for hours. Leonardo could think of few places he'd rather be than Ezio's arms, with strong fingers pressing into his skin and tender lips placing kisses and whispered praise against his face and neck. It should have been relaxing, the kind of quiet contentment that would lull them both into a pleasant sleep. But the longer he lay wrapped in Ezio's arms, the stronger the disquieted feeling inside him grew, until he had to act on it.
"Ezio," he said softly, placing his hand on the other man's cheek.
Ezio looked at him curiously. "Si, Maestro?"
Leonardo's thumb ran gently across Ezio's face. He did not want to do this. "We cannot do this again," he whispered, fighting to keep his voice steady.
Ezio looked at him, face still. He did not seemed poised to argue, but he had not agreed, either, so Leonardo continued.
"I do not wish to see you put yourself in danger for me, not any more than you already have." A lump began to form in his throat. "It is dangerous enough for you to meet me elsewhere to get your equipment, but if someone should see you here—" His voice failed him. He closed his eyes, just in time to blink back his swelling tears.
A gentle hand brushed against his cheek. Leonardo opened his eyes to see Ezio looking back at him, his own eyes glimmering with unshed tears.
"You are correct, caro," he said quietly. "I wish that you were not. But you are correct. I cannot endanger you like this."
Leonardo felt as if he should breathe a sigh of relief, but he could not bring himself to do it. There was no victory to be found in Ezio's aquiescence, only sorrow. "I would not ask this of you if it were not necessary," he said in a strained voice.
"I know." Ezio pulled Leonardo close and let him bury his face in Ezio's chest. "I know, my love."
Leonardo let Ezio hold him close as the tears ran down his face. Tears for their impending farewell, yes, but also for the loneliness of his captivity, the constant fear of violence, the grief for the lives taken by his work. It seemed as though months of pain had finally caught up to him and were now taking their due.
Eventually, he composed himself enough to raise his head. Without so much as a pause, Ezio leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto his forehead.
"I promise you," the assassin said in a rough voice. "That when I have killed Cesare and Rodrigo, we will have this again. I will make sure of it. Capito?"
Leonardo nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"Bene." Ezio wiped away a stray tear that had fallen down Leonardo's cheek. "I can stay until sunrise, but then I must leave. I have business to attend to with Bartolomeo."
"You're certain that is wise?" Leonardo whispered. He did not want Ezio to change his mind, but he wanted him hurt even less.
Ezio smiled at him, though it was tinged with sadness. "I would not say so if I was not, caro." He kissed Leonardo again, on the lips this time. "Now rest. I know you do not see enough of it even in the best of times."
With that, Leonardo could not argue. He settled into the mattress and let Ezio cover the both of them in bedding and pull him into an embrace. As they lay there, he could forget, for a time, that in the morning they must part. For now, for a few short hours, the assassin and the artist held each other in their arms and slept.