Ezio stared at the piece of paper in his hands and tried to bring himself to read it again. He glared at the first few lines and crumpled the whole thing in a ball all over again, overwhelmed by rage and intense sense of betrayal. A growl escaped his clenched teeth and he made an effort to control himself, to keep himself from going downstairs and slitting the traitor's throat. How could he have been so blind, so stupid and naïve? He had taken a viper in his bosom, had befriended it and later loved it, and the entire time it had worked for his enemies, the very people responsible for his family's death and who knows how many others.

Franticly he smoothed the letter again and his eyes skimmed over the sharp, elegant writing of the author:


They have moved the Apple away from Italy and he has not told me where. I need more time – surely he will confide in me eventually. Attacking Monteriggioni would serve no purpose as it is no longer here and only he knows where it is. I need more time.

May the Father of Understanding guide us.

Your Loyal Servant, Leonardo."

Antonio's men had intercepted the courier carrying letters to Cesare Borgia over two weeks ago and their loot had been delivered quietly to Ezio's estate during the night a few days ago. He had gone through it immediately, looking for information about Cesare's plans. With his uncle's passing almost three months ago, now it fell to him to lead the Assassins' Order in Italy and he accepted the task without hesitation – his people needed him and he was not going to shirk his duty to them.

His shock when he found a letter carrying a familiar seal had turned to horror when he recognized the even more familiar writing of his best friend and closest confidante over the years. At first he had thought it was a fake, planted there by his enemies to sow chaos among them. And yet, the more he thought about it, the more he began to doubt, until one day he waited for Leonardo to go out, strolling the countryside looking for inspiration. He sneaked in his workshop and carefully went through his things, meticulously searching for anything that would implicate the artist in his connection with the Templars. He spent almost the whole afternoon there, combing through sheets of paper and canvas, pieces of different gadgets, brushes, oils and engineering instruments, everything that cluttered Leonardo's working space. And then he finally found it, hidden in a fake compartment under the floorboards, a tiny wooden box carrying a ring bearing the Templar cross. Another person might have missed that but Ezio had grown accustomed to solving such puzzles over the years – his ancestors' tombs had taught him well.

The letter had not been a fake – his friend was a spy and a traitor.

It had taken a tremendous effort not to simply snap his neck the moment he returned, rather than smile at him as he met him at the door, watching him smiling back, blue eyes twinkling in delight.

How many times had he laughed behind Ezio's back while he fed information to his enemies? How many times he had comforted him after his family's demise while secretly he plotted with the very people who had murdered them? That smile seemed poisonous now.

At first he had just intended to kill him and bury him in a shallow grave somewhere, his wrath overwhelming all rational thought. But soon his initial rage passed and Ezio realized he wanted more than that. He wanted to make that viper pay for his duplicity and treason, for breaking his heart.

He had spent years as Leonardo's best friend, years of watching and pining and wanting, too ashamed of his sick, twisted desires to ever approach him in such a way. He had wanted Leonardo, had wanted to hold his hand and kiss his lips, take him in his arms and carry him to bed, ravish him again and again until they were both sated and exhausted, their bodies trembling with the aftermath of their ecstasy. He dreamt of tender moments and sweet embraces, of spending his life with him. It was a silly, impossible dream but he couldn't hope but imagine it in the darkest hours of the night.

Such thoughts had often led to him locking himself in his room and roughly jerking himself to completion that failed to satisfy his needs, both physical and emotional. After he finished came the inevitable guilt, the shame that he wanted something so sick and unnatural. He had kept his secret for all these years, hidden safely under the mask of a flirtatious womanizer. He changed women like he changed his throwing knives, one after the other, in a desperate attempt to convince himself he did not desire another man in such a way. And yet, the desire never really went away, each woman satisfying him less and less than the last.

His need made Leonardo's betrayal even more painful and personal. He had spent half of his life pining after someone who didn't really exist, who used him and betrayed him like he was nothing. Fury welled up again in his chest and took several deep, calming breaths. He needed to keep a level head for this. His well-trained mind began to analyze the situation like he was preparing for another assassination. When would be the most opportune moment to strike? What were his target's defenses? How to make sure that Leonardo wouldn't flee? He calmly considered each of those questions and began to make a plan.

Four days later he casually strolled in Leonardo's workshop and leaned against one of his working tables. The other was sitting by the window, labouring over one of his sketches – a cat stretching its front legs. Leonardo loved animals, Ezio had discovered early on, and studied them with the same passion he studied humans.

The sight before him was painfully familiar and yet alien at the same time. Had he ever truly known this man he wondered bitterly.

"A cat, Leonardo?"

"Your sister's." the other clarified gently. "Even the smallest feline is a masterpiece, Ezio. We have much to learn from them."

'Yes.' He thought. 'Who knows more about duplicity than a cat?'

His bitter thoughts must've been written on his face because Leonardo looked at him with concern.

"Is there something wrong, Ezio?"

He forced himself to give his most sincere smile.

"Nothing. I'm just a little tired. My new position includes an unpleasant amount of paperwork. I didn't realize that before." That wasn't a lie, actually. Ezio had long discovered that the best way to conceal the truth was to hide behind other truth. "In fact, I came to invite you to dinner. We've both been so busy lately, my friend." The word was like poison on his tongue. "Surely we deserve a few hours to relax?"

Leonardo gave him a warm, sweet smile.

"I'd love to. Tonight?"

Ezio nodded, not trusting his voice. He bowed and left, returning to his rooms. Once there he called the head of his staff and gave him instructions, then ordered him to prepare him a bath.

Soaking in the warm, scented water did help him relax and put his thoughts in order. Funny how even this habit he had picked up from Leonardo – in a society where people bathed twice a year at most, Leonardo was fastidiously clean. He always smelled nice, probably courtesy of the soaps he used.

Ezio ran his hands over his chest as he remembered leaning over Leonardo's shoulder to look at him work on his latest inventions – his silky blond hair smelled faintly of lavender. The scent had remained with him for weeks on end, haunting his dreams and waking hours. It haunted him even know, despite all that he had learned. The need, the attraction were far stronger than conscious thought, stronger than the need to be rid of the spy in their midst. Ezio wasn't a man easily prone to temptations – his ability to withstand the Apple's call was testament to that – yet Leonardo made him weak and irrational. His fingers slid past his muscled, flat stomach to tease the soft skin of where his thighs met his torso. He could jerk off now, his thoughts filled with the image of the traitor under him, begging him to stop, for more, his body writhing as Ezio took him. Oh, he did know how men coupled together even if he had never dared to engage in the act – years ago he found a book, probably smuggled from the Far East, at Paola's establishment that enlightened him. He had had quietly pilfered it from her library – and even for a courtesan, she had an extensive library – and she had never given any indication. He had leafed through the book many times over the years, despite the guilt that came every time he did so.

Still, if he pleasured himself now he'd take the edge off for the evening and he didn't want that. He withdrew his hand and stood up, the water sloshing over the rim of the bathtub and splashing over the cold stone tiles.

Later that evening Ezio settled at the head of the table in the villa's smaller dining hall. The room was prepared for the occasion – new linen cover over the table, fresh flowers arranged in a delicate blown glass vase, the villa's finest silverware arranged meticulously. Ezio could be sophisticated when he wanted to – his mother and his tutors had seen to that – even if he was perfectly comfortable dining on cheese, bread and wine and sleeping in a barn when on a mission.

Ezio himself was clad in robes of the finest black velvet, the ones he sometimes wore underneath Altair's armor, the Assassin's hood pulled from his head to reveal his dark, glossy hair, slightly graying at the temples. He knew that over the years he had grown pale, losing his youthful tan, thanks to skulking so much in the shadows, always hidden beneath layers of clothing. The stress and tension inevitably involved in his missions didn't help either. He ran a hand over his well-trimmed beard – he had grown it after it became too troublesome to shave when he was constantly on the run and moving from place to place, not to mention that the beard also helped conceal his features, along with the hood. He hadn't shaved it despite settling down – he had grown to like himself like that.

The door opened and Leonardo slipped into the room. He saw Ezio and smiled as his host stood up to greet him and invite him to the table. Leonardo too was garbed in silks and velvet, even if his fingers were permanently stained with the charcoal and paints he worked with. Those never washed off, no matter how much he bathed. He must've done as Ezio did earlier in the afternoon, because he smelled of lavender again, sweet and alluring.

Ezio smiled at him as they settled.

The servant waiting in the corner of the room moved silently and poured them both a glass of the deep red wine in a crystal decanter, then retreated to his spot. Ezio lifted his glass in a toast.

"To honest, loyal friends." He said with a small smile. Leonardo followed suit without hesitation and they both drank. Ezio couldn't help but admire his nerve – he hadn't stuttered, hadn't shown even the slightest hint that he felt guilty, he was just as he had always been. The perfect liar. Bitterness welled up in him again and he finished his wine in a few gulps, hoping it would help him relax for what came next.

"Dinner will be served in a few moments, amico mio." He told Leonardo. "I've been looking forward to this evening for the past several days."

Leonardo smiled indulgently.

"I always look forward to time spent with you." He replied and took another sip of his wine. "This is very good."

"Always the best for my friends."

The door opened and two servants walked in, carrying trays covered with silver lids. They served them quietly before the two men and retreated. The man who had poured the wine left as well after a subtle gesture from Ezio.

"Well, let's see what's for dinner." the younger man said and took off the lid. Leonardo followed suit and removed the silver lid from his plate, the stared down in shock. While Ezio's plate contained food, his own was empty, save for a folded and crumpled sheet of paper. It looked faintly familiar and he reached for it, picked it up and unfolded it. As he examined the contents all colour drained from his handsome face. He looked up and noticed Ezio watching him calmly from the other end of the table, his dark eyes glittering coldly.

"I suppose I should congratulate you - you must be one of the most talented spies I've ever met, to be able to keep this charade up for all these years." Ezio said mildly. "So, congratulations."

Leonardo remained quiet, staring at him without a word, his face almost ashen, but otherwise carefully blank as well. Finally, he spoke.

"I am surprised I am still alive." And his eyes slid to the semi-full glass of wine.

"Do not fret, amico mio." Ezio spat the last two words. "Your kind often employs poison, but I prefer a more hands on approach, you know me. If I had wanted to kill you, I'd have just choked the life out of you."

Leonardo's blank mask began to crack as his features tightened in fear for a moment before he could manage to regain control.

"So why haven't you?"

Ezio stood up and leisurely strolled around the table until he was standing behind Leonardo's chair. His hands found his shoulders and he began to massage them gently, even if the other man remained stiff as a board under his touch.

"I can't say I didn't think about it." Ezio admittedly breezily. "When I first read this letter my only desire was to go down to your workshop and eviscerate you where you stood. All I could think about were all the years I spent trusting you more than I've trusted any other person in my life, except my father and my uncle. Perhaps even more than them – for all thoughts and purposes, you appeared not to hold any secrets and told no lies, unlike the two of them."

Leonardo actually flinched at those words, or at least tried to because Ezio's hands on his shoulders tightened.


"Shh. I'm not done talking." Ezio chided, his voice still chillingly calm. "Perhaps, had I found out about this ten years ago, I would've followed my initial impulse. But I am not an impetuous youth anymore and I've learned control. Killing you immediately would be quite unsatisfying." He leaned down and nuzzled the soft flesh of Leonardo's throat before whispering in his ear:

"I'd much prefer to make you squeal first."

At those words Leonardo finally began to struggle, trying to free himself from Ezio's steely grip. He had never been a fighter though, while the younger man had decades of experience and his feeble struggles posed no problem for him. He easily seized his arms and twisted them behind his back, pulling him off the chair and pressing his entire front on the table. Holding his wrists with one hand, the other like a vice on the back of his neck, he held Leonardo down with an obvious ease.

"I thought long and hard about what I wanted to do with you. How to repay you for all the years while I trusted you, confided in you, depended on you and you took advantage of all that? How many of my plans failed because of you? How many people died because of your treason?" he hissed.

"Please, Ezio. Let me explain."

The hand on his neck tightened threateningly.

"Quiet. I don't want to hear a word from your lying mouth anymore."


"Quiet, I said!" the other hissed and pressed against his wrists, straining his arms to the point of breaking. "I will hurt you if you don't do exactly as I say."

Leonardo nodded obediently and the pressure on his arms lessened enough that he wasn't in pain though he was still effectively restrained. He felt something wrap around his wrists – Ezio was tying him up, probably with a rope or a leather strip prepared beforehand.

"Now, we'll go up to my rooms."

The strong hand on the scruff of his neck pulled and lifted him off the table, then marched him out of the room and through the villa's majestic entrance hall. They went up the stairs and then down the corridor to Ezio's new room – as the new Master of the villa, he had grudgingly moved into Mario's old quarters after the servants repeatedly dropped hints that it wasn't befitting his station to sleep in the attic.

The bedroom was spacious, the wooden floor covered in expensive Oriental rugs, the walls covered in maps and paintings that both uncle and nephew had gathered over the years. In the middle of the room there was a large bed with a canopy with drawn curtains, revealing a rich samite coverlet and numerous pillows.

Ezio maneuvered him and sat him down on the bed, then pulled a chair and sat in front of him. Leonardo was still as pale as a sheet. His blue eyes betrayed his confusion and even though he was trying to hide his fear, the Assassin could see it lurking in the azure depths. Obviously he wanted to speak, but he remembered Ezio's warning and he just nervously wet his lips with his tongue.

"You must be wondering why I didn't drag you down to the dungeons." Ezio said. "I thought about it. But I did want us to have a somewhat civil conversation if it were possible."

"I thought you wanted me to be quiet." Leonardo said hoarsely.

"I don't want to hear excuses."

Leonardo looked down at his knees and bit his lip.

"I will not apologize for things I believe in."

"What would that be? Conspiracies, subterfuge, murder of innocents…"

"I have not murdered anyone in my entire life! Neither a human nor an animal, unlike you!"

Ezio hissed furiously.

"How dare you…!"

"No! You are guilty of all those things you accuse me of. You talk about the murder of innocents, but how much innocent blood stains your hands?" Leonardo shouted back, angry despite his predicament.

"I have not murdered any innocents!" Ezio looked outraged.

"Truly? What about all those guards you've slaughtered over the years?"

"They were not…"

"Oh, but there were innocents among them. Some might've been criminals, murderers and bullies, but others joined because they had families to feed and truly wished to uphold the order. Yet it makes no difference to you when you slit their throats!"

Ezio was on him in the blink of an eye, having moved so fast that Leonardo didn't realize what was going on before he was lying on the bed, his arms trapped uncomfortably behind him, the other straddling his hips and the hidden blade pressing menacingly against his jugular. The Assassin's lips were pulled in a snarl of rage, eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed.

Leonardo quieted down and looked up at him, breath coming in short, frightened gasps, yet he did not back down. His blue eyes met Ezio's dark ones defiantly, lips pressed in a thin, pale line.

"Did you have anything to do with my family's death?" Ezio asked quietly.

"No." the artist answered flatly.

The hidden blade broke the skin and a thin trickle of blood slid down his throat and stained his white collar and the samite bedding under him.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Your mother was my client, Ezio, but I wasn't aware of your father's occupation. At the time I stood too low in the order for them to tell me these things. I didn't even realize who you were when you came to me asking me to repair the same blade you're now pressing against my throat."

"And afterwards?"

"I learned about it when you left Florence."

"And then? How much of what I told you reached the Spaniard? How much of Altair's Codex did you give to them?" he paused. "It's why you kept playing the role of the best friend, didn't you? The knowledge of the Codex was priceless."

Leonardo looked away.

"It was not the only reason I continued. And, believe it or not, I hid from them more than I told them. Not all of our friendship was a lie."

Ezio withdrew the blade from his throat and sat back on his hips, face unreadable. Suddenly he backhanded him across the face, the sound of flesh smacking flesh almost deafening in the quiet room.

"Don't you dare talk to me about friendship! You lying, two-faced snake, you, you…"

He was shaking, his rage and his pain overwhelming rational thought. Leonardo was lying under him, unresisting as he was struck again, this time across his other cheek.

"I trusted you, bastardo, I trusted you with my life and with my secrets and this is how you repaid me...!"

Years of need and longing combined with a fresh sense of betrayal finally eroded through his resolve and his fingers fisted in soft blond hair, turning the bruised face up and he pressed his lips to Leonardo's in a needy, aggressive kiss. The soft mouth remained closed though and he bit down on the artist's full bottom lip, his hand tightening around his graceful throat. Leonardo gasped and he used the opportunity to slide his tongue in his mouth, deepening the kiss. The artist let out a soft, keening moan but made no further effort to buck him off or close his lips. If anything, he opened them further, allowing him to plunder his mouth, tongues sliding wetly against each other.

Ezio was rocking on top of him without even realizing, his hips grinding roughly against Leonardo. The older man moaned again and shuddered, feeling himself harden. He could feel the Assassin's own erection, thick and hard under his clothes. The man's entire body exuded heat, it was as if he was being smothered by a furnace. His hands left his throat and caressed Leonardo's clothed chest, nimble fingers finding the laces that kept his clothes together and roughly tore them apart, and what he couldn't tear he sliced with his hidden blade.

Ezio pulled away from the kiss to tug Leonardo's jacket and shirt apart, revealing his lightly muscled chest, his rosy nipples already pebbling under his eager touch. Leonardo was looking up at him, his blue eyes glazed over with need and lust, swolled lips moist and parted.

Finally Ezio seemed to feel his captive's arousal pressed against his own because he chuckled darkly and gave him a sharp snap of his hips, grinding against him again. Leonardo's long blond lashes fluttered and he closed his eyes, turning his head away.

"So…It's true what they said about you and Salai…" Ezio noted, voice full of vicious amusement. "Was he a Templar too?"

"No… Ezio. Please. He had nothing to do with any of it."

"Good. Then I may be persuaded not to go back and kill the bastardo."

Despite the situation he was in, Leonardo couldn't help but chuckle at those words.

"Jealous, amico mio?"

Ezio leaned forward, dark eyes glinting in the candlelight. Something in his expression told Leonardo that he had gone too far, that he should've kept his mouth shut. The hidden blade pressed against his throat again and he did his best to lie motionless, lest he provoked Ezio into using it.

"Not exactly. Just regretful. I should've done this years ago."

"Done what?" he whispered.

The glinting steel moved from his throat to his lips, pressing against them.

"Claimed what rightfully belongs to me."

Leonardo's pupils dilated at those words and his body grew taut. His breath came in short, sharp gasps and the shiny metal of the blade fogged. His nimble, wet tongue snaked out of his mouth and ran over the steel, blue eyes fluttering shut, long blond lashes resting against flushed cheeks. Ezio gasped on top of him, then removed the blade with a growl. His mouth was claimed again, even more roughly than before. He answered the kiss with equal fervor and arched into Ezio's touch when the younger man's hand slid between their bodies and cupped him through his pants. The grip was tight enough to be almost painful and yet he rocked into it. The Assassin's lips moved to his throat as he kissed and suckled the soft, vulnerable flesh there, leaving noticeable marks behind. Ezio's beard scratched his sensitive skin and he shivered at the sensation again.


"I own you, traitor. I have always had. You're mine, you've always been mine and I'll make you pay for what you've done. You'll be paying for the rest of your life."

Ezio's hands were on the laces of his pants and he was ripping and shredding once again as he kissed his way down Leonardo's chest, nipping and sucking. The other man tried to remain as still as possible, frightened at the proximity of Ezio's blade so close to his vital bodyparts. Finally, Ezio was done with the laces and sharply tugged his pants down, taking them off along with the soft shoes he wore in house. He was lying almost naked under him, only the remains of his shirt and coat hanging onto his shoulders because of his tied wrists.

Ezio loomed over his nude, vulnerable form, still garbed in full Assassin regalia, looking incredibly imposing and menacing, even if his hood was down and wore no armor. He just stood there, taking in the pale, naked body, lightly muscled and covered in soft, creamy flesh without a single scar or blemish. His semi-aroused organ was resting against his thigh, nestled in the soft blond curls of his groin, his long, slender legs slightly spread as if inviting him to take him. Leonardo's swollen lips were parted and his blue eyes almost glassy with myriad of emotions – fear, arousal, shame.

Ezio had always been careful of the image he presented to his friends, family and allies – a well-meaning, polite smoothtalker, a kind mask set to hide the predator under it. For he was a predator, he had no doubt about it. Over the years the hunt, the prowl, and finally the killing of the prey began to give him satisfaction, pleasure even, something he began to crave between missions. He had always strived to hide that from his loved ones, ashamed of that part of himself, fearful that it would make them turn away from him, hate him. An Assassin wasn't supposed to enjoy one's work, after all. He had always been even more careful than usual around Leonardo, his dear, gentle friend who seemed unable to harm even an ant.

But now, as he looked down at the Templar's naked body, stretched out as it was under him, as if a meal on a feast, Ezio no longer felt the need to hide what he was from him. Leonardo the gentle artist deserved such efforts, Leonardo the Templar spy did not. Ezio let the darkness within him to take over, to consume him.

"Look at me." He ordered hoarsely and the other obeyed without hesitation, face snapping up, blue eyes meeting his own dark ones.

Ezio reached for his own jacket and unlaced it, then carefully removed it. His shirt followed, then his pants and underwear, along with his boots. In the end he remained naked, save for the bracer with the hidden blade still attached to his arm. He knew he looked well, despite the passage of years – constant training and missions had given him a magnificent physique. Leonardo was staring up at him with wide, hungry eyes, his organ, having hardened completely, was now pointing up to his navel, chest rising and falling rapidly as he licked his suddenly dry lips.

Ezio's eyes focused on those lips and he growled, then grabbed Leonardo's ankle and pulled, sliding him off the bed and letting him crumple onto the floor. The other man grunted as he landed and righted himself as well as he could, kneeling before Ezio, his face on the same level as his cock. The Assassin palmed his organ and pressed the tip to Leonardo's mouth.

"Suck." He ordered. "And know that if you bite you'll lose yours."

The threat seemed unnecessary, because the other opened his lips with surprising eagerness and swirled his tongue over the exposed head before taking it into his mouth and suckling. His tongue dipped passing the flaring ridge and caressed the edge of his foreskin before delving under it as much as he could. Ezio's hands fisted in his blond hair and he hissed in pleasure. Leonardo's mouth and throat worked around him as he slowly slid further and further down his organ, taking in more and more of him until his nose pressed against the smooth, shaved skin above his erection. Ezio's fingers tightened around Leonardo's hair and he forced the man to remain there while his cock was encased in the warm, wet cavern. The Templar made no effort to pull away and offered no resistance, even if he looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. Ezio smiled viciously down at him and finally allowed him to pull away up to the head, then gripped his hair again to keep his head in place and began to thrust in and out of his mouth.

"You're very good at his, Templar." He murmured quietly. "As good as a practiced whore. But that's what exactly you are, aren't you?" he growled and punctuated his words with an especially rough thrust that had Leonardo gasping for air when he withdrew. "A slut sent to spy on me, to betray me. My only regret is that I held back for all these years and didn't make use of you earlier – at least that way our relationship wouldn't have been a complete waste."

Leonardo finally closed his eyes at those words but not before the Assassin noticed the flash of pain in them. It filled him with vicious satisfaction. 'Good.' He thought bitterly, even as waves of heat coursed through his system each time he plunged in that pliant mouth. 'Let him hurt. Let him feel the same pain as I do.'

The pleasure, brought on both by the physical stimulation and the emotional vindication was mounting higher and higher and he could feel his impending orgasm building low in his gut, coiling at the base of his spine, throbbing at the tip of his cock.

Ezio pulled away completely, his hands still fisted in Leonardo's hair. His organ popped free from his abused mouth and glistened wetly under the candlelight, a thin strand of saliva connecting the reddened, swollen lips and his reddened, swollen tip. Leonardo kneeled before him, panting softly and trying to catch his breath, his face, throat and shoulders flushed from exertion…and arousal? As he looked further down Ezio noticed that the artist's erection hadn't flagged at all, if anything, he looked even more excited than before, his organ having darkened and swollen even further, the tip wet and glistening with precome.

"You enjoy being treated like, this, don't you, slut?" he growled. "Don't you!" he demanded and raised his hand to strike him again. Leonardo did flinch at the gesture, cringing at his feet. Ezio's hand dropped at his side and he grabbed his forearm, pulling him up and pushing him against the bed until he fell face down on it. The Assassin followed him and crawled onto the mattress before settling between his splayed thighs. Grabbing his hips he pulled him up until he was kneeling before him, ass raised in the air and shoulders pressed to the bed as his hands were still tied behind his back.

Ezio looked at his straining back and gently reached to caress the tense muscles.

"I thought about what to do with you, once I had you at my mercy like this." He murmured. "Should I whip you? Brand you?" his fingers reached Leonardo's hands and whispered circles against his smooth, soft palms. "Should I cut your fingers one by one…"

The body under him tensed even further.

"Ezio… please…" his tone was frightened, panicked even.

"You're afraid of that, aren't you? That I could take away the ability to produce such beautiful art…"

Under him, the artist was hyperventilating, breath coming in sharp, rapid gasps. Ezio leaned and kissed his open palms, wet tongue teasing the sensitive fingers.

"Don't be afraid of that. I would never take this from you. I am not that cruel, unlike your allies."

Leonardo sagged against the mattress with relief.

"Please…Please, Ezio, stop playing with me. Do whatever it is that you want to do, but stop playing." He pleaded softly. Ezio was still sucking and licking his fingers, his tongue tracing the soft flesh.

"It's not pleasant, is it?" he asked with amusement. "Being toyed with?"

His hand sneaked under Leonardo and found his erection. It had softened a little because of the raw fear he felt at Ezio's threat, but under the Assassin's skilled fingers it quickly hardened again. Ezio's other hand cupped and massaged his firm behind as he kissed and licked the small of his back. Another sob escaped Leonardo's lips and he rocked into the teasing hands despite his fear. Ezio's tongue trailed wet little circles as he slid further down, his free hand spreading Leonardo's cheeks apart.

When Ezio's tongue pressed against his entrance Leonardo wailed loudly and jerked in his grip, legs almost giving out under him.


The Assassin ignored his call and licked him again, and then again, his tongue flicking rapidly against the tight little hole that twitched wildly under his ministrations. Under him Leonardo seemed to be unraveling at the seams, rocking back and forth against his mouth and in his hand, moaning helplessly with each sway, flushed shoulders heaving in exertion.

"Ezio, what are you doing to me…" he whimpered when the soft tongue and the scratchy beard pressed against his sensitive bottom were exchanged for a slick finger probing his already moist entrance. The finger slid into him and he gasped at the stinging, burning sensation of the intrusion. It had been so very long since he last did this. Ezio was thrusting his digit in and out of him, setting an even pace, gradually relaxing his tight flesh.

"You're so tight, Templar." He remarked. "Why? Did you always stay on top of poor Salai? You seem so unused to being touched like this. Too bad… you'll have to get used to it from now on." He chuckled darkly as he slid a second finger inside him.

"No, Ezio." Leonardo replied breathlessly.

"You don't get a say in the matter, Tem…" Ezio began angrily, suddenly scissoring his fingers and stretching the little hole further apart. Leonardo cried out but didn't stop talking.

"No, Ezio, I haven't been with Salai. I haven't been with anyone, for all these years." He turned around as much as he could, his cheek pressed against the samite coverlet, meeting Ezio's eyes over his shoulder. Ezio's face was in shadow, but he could see the tensing of his shoulders at those words. A third finger was added and he cried out, willing himself to relax.

"And why not?" the Assassin inquired as he worked his fingers in and out of him. The hand on his erection moved to his hip and held him in place when the fingers brushed against his prostate, sending another jolt of pleasure through his nerves.

"I wanted only you." Leonardo responded in a few moments, turning his face away, unable to meet his eyes, fearful of his reaction. The fingers inside of him paused.

"Is that so?" he asked mockingly.

"I am not lying." Leonardo answered softly, shivering when he felt another brush against his prostate. "For once, I am not lying." He whispered brokenly.

There was a long, pregnant pause.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Templar." Ezio answered sadly.

The fingers withdrew and he felt something thick and blunt press against his stretched entrance. Ezio pressed forward and his engorged cock slowly slid into him, his hands keeping his hips in place. Leonardo whimpered when the thick head finally popped inside of him and remained still as the rest invaded him deeper and deeper until Ezio's hips pressed against reddened ass.

Leonardo gasped at the incredibly full sensation, his muscles stretched to the limit around Ezio's girth. The man had only used his own spit as lubrication and combined with Leonardo's lack of any recent practice the invasion hurt more than it should have. He remained where he was, breathing deeply through his mouth as he waited for his muscles to relax, to accept the cock that impaled him so intimately. His erection throbbed between his legs, the stinging in his behind only adding to his arousal. Ezio's sword-callused hand found it and caressed it almost tenderly as he began to thrust in and out of him, slowly and shallowly at first. Leonardo raised his hips with a whimper, eager for more.

"You truly do like being treated like this…" Ezio whispered breathlessly as he kept rocking slowly, tone incredulous. Leonardo nodded and settled onto his shoulders, raising his hips to meet Ezio's rocking again and again. He was relaxing around him and it was becoming easier for the younger man to move within him, to do it faster, harder, straining to reach his peak. The thick organ brushed against Leonardo's prostate almost every time he thrust in and waves of pleasure and warmth roiled over his nerves.

Leonardo realized he was babbling his name, mixed with helpless pleas for more, for mercy, for forgiveness, promises of love and devotion. It was as if the pleasure Ezio gave him finally broke down through the barriers he had erected around himself and he said all that he had wanted to say for all these years. Ezio, on the other hand, was almost completely silent behind him, save for guttural grunts and groans of ecstasy as he took him again and again, his hips rapidly pistoning back and forth, his hands clutching Leonardo's narrow hips tightly enough to bruise, short, blunt nails digging into soft flesh and leaving bloody crescent marks in their wake. He suddenly let go and gripped his hair, pulling him back up until he straddled Ezio's lap, the younger man sitting back, wrapping his arm around Leonardo as he kept thrusting up in and out of him. The new position drove his cock even deeper into him and the older man cried out and threw his head back onto Ezio's broad shoulder. The Assassin was growling like a bear in his ear with each snap of his hips, the hand in Leonardo's blond hair turning his head to face him, the one around his middle sliding down to grip his erection.

Finally, the stimulation proved too much and he came, spilling himself over Ezio's callused fingers. The Assassin's mouth covered his and hungrily drank in his cries of pleasure as he shot his seed again and again. When he was done he felt almost boneless in Ezio's grip, completely relaxed, as if he were a rag doll. The Assassin's hard cock still impaled him and felt even bigger than before, he whimpered helplessly as it kept ramming into him. Ezio was kissing and sucking the smooth flesh of his neck again, already marked and bruised from the same attention earlier that night.

When Ezio came too he buried his face in the juncture of his neck and shoulder and bit him hard, worrying his flesh with his teeth, undoubtedly leaving his mark behind on him. His hips snapped up and grinded against him as he filled him, throbbing inside of him.

Leonardo felt completely exhausted when they slid back on the bed, his legs still spread for Ezio who held him from behind, his organ still in him even as it slowly softened. Eventually he slipped out and his wetness leaked out of him, sliding down his thighs.

Leonardo turned on his side, his back to Ezio, and pulled his legs up to his chest, curling up as much as he could with his tied hands.

"Now what, Ezio?" he asked softly. "Are you going to kill me?"

There was a tired, mirthless laugher behind him and a large hand caressed his naked hip.

"I told you I wouldn't. I am not finished with you yet. I'm not going to be finished with you for a very long time, Templar."