And he does, a bit hesitant, startled, to say the least, at a request that should've come naturally without prompting, just a test there and here before he looks into Leo's eyes and twine their fingers. Though anticipation pulls on the corner of those lips as much as his desire, there's something veiled, knowing it would be unraveled later, that makes him stroke his thumb over the palm and nod in understanding—one second, four glances, and twenty kisses on fluttering eyebrows, as he slowly pulls the radiance of the moon in such a simple action, clarifying a pooling joy that radiated through the pads of his hands. He finds the glimmer of blue addicting, his laugh plain mellifluous, a tad off stupid to know he was staring at Leo's reply that was a replica of his answer.
"When you do, my friend, words are not required to grasp my own.
"The prostate," Leonardo continued explaining, sliding his slicked fingers deeper, "is located near the bladder and rectum, surrounding the urethra, tested by feeling along the inner walls of the anal cavity." When a husky groan suddenly left Ezio's lips, he blushed greatly before proceeding with his actions, hooking his digits expertly to the flush of the younger man's face in primal pleasure. "It is slightly larger than a walnut and aids in ejaculation—"
A desperate hand clamped onto his arm. "Merda, just fuck me already!"
"I-I … " Oh, if he himself wasn't going to explode from the suffering heat. "S-S-S-Si, Ezio—r-right away."
Anatomy paid off so well.
"My, I bet you know all sorts of tricks."
"You look like one who knows what he's doing."
"Why don't you join us? We'll give you a good time."
"Ah, I wonder if you really roll in the hay."
"I'll give you free service, if you want."
"Come closer, big boy."
This wasn't supposed to happen.
"Wait, Leo! It's not what it looks like!"
Crying out futilely, Ezio watched the appalled artist walk the other way in a hasty fashion, grappling for empty air as he tried to pry the deviant courtesans off him: never mind the fact that soldiers were now menacingly staring at him through the throng of the confused crowd. It wasn't that way—condemn it all to know he had the worst timing of the century! Oh, to fucking hire the whores as a last option! If only the target was not covered by guards, now drooling lustfully at the unashamed harlots. Could he not have hired mercenaries to go along with him?
No, a pigeon who suddenly perched on his shoulder began, because you're an idiot—you're getting lazier and crazier every year, old fart: We're all watching you … all of us … I mean, who do you think lead Mr. Vinci over here, oroo?
Later on, when Leonardo goes to bail Ezio out of jail, he immediately forgets his petty misunderstanding, seeing a very shell-shocked assassin meekly followed him out of the building, eyes darting hysterically to the left and right, relentless in digging at the sky. It was only after a cute bird flew over the ramparts that the other man voiced his concern. "Ezio? What ails you?"
"They're watching, Leo! All of them! All hundred of them! In the sky! On the crate! In the room! On the bookshelf! In the latrine! In my pene! They're not giving up!"
Desmond, Leo's new feathery friend, victoriously smirked in the pockets of his caretaker. We also know where you live.
"I have plenty of outlets."
Maria Auditore fought to not snort and roll her eyes. "I meant, besides vaginas."
If only she knew which outlet he frequented.