Machiavelli collapsed on their bed, letting out a quiet sigh. "This is ludicrous," he whispered, looking at Ezio. The older Assassin turned his head a little bit.
"What do you mean?" He was lounging in only his undershirt and pants, gaining some much-needed rest in the hectic saving of dear old Roma.
"I mean, some people don't listen to reason. I'm also starting to suspect La Volpe of something. He's acting strange." Ezio shrugged, thinking it better to let the two work it out on their own. Ezio simply opened his arms, quietly asking Machiavelli to come into them. The philosopher complied, resting his head on Ezio's chest.
"It'll turn out fine. The assassins will prevail." His hand ran over Machiavelli's short hair, marveling at the feel. The younger always felt safe in these arms, and always felt astounded that someone so intimate could kill so easily. It excited him. "Niccolo, everything will be fine. Promise." Machiavelli nodded, his fingers playing with the ties on Ezio's shirt.
"If you say so."
"I do." The two laughed low, and Ezio used two fingers to lift Machiavelli's face to his He gently connected their lips. The man took less than a second to respond, his own hand curling around the back of Ezio's neck. The man smiled, skin pulling at that old scar. Machiavelli's tongue reached out, licking at the scar for a brief second. Ezio groaned quietly, pushing his lips harder onto the man's. They wrestled for a second, nearly rolling off the bed, never unconnecting their lips. Finally, Ezio sat on top of Machiavelli, using powerful legs and hips to subdue him. He smirked for a second before driving his tongue into the man's mouth, seeking every crevice and indent. The other moaned softly, responding with every fiber in his being. Ezio's hips suddenly grounded against Machiavelli's, feeling the almost-hard organ underneath the heavy cloth. Ezio's hands began to work on the complicated clothes, untying the lacing various areas of Machiavelli's clothing. It was frustrating, but Ezio finally tossed the heavy fabric aside. He growled deep in his throat when he was confronted by the dark red shirt. His arm muscles bulged for a second as the fabric ripped away, leaving his chest bare. Machiavelli began to protest about how that was one of his favorite shirts. Ezio silenced him with searching fingers and another rough, bruising kiss. Machiavelli pulled up Ezio's shirt, and tossed it with the shreds of his.
The two smiled, and Ezio bit at his lips, making Machiavelli moan quietly. The two of them began to get impatient, and Ezio pulled down the other Assassin's pants, his soon following. He took both of them in one of his hands, rubbing his length against Machiavelli's. Their hips rolled together, earning gasps from both of them. Ezio smiled against his lips, grinding again. Ezio sat up suddenly, and Machiavelli grabbed Ezio's hips, pulling him closer. He sat up against the headboard, so his face was in front of Ezio's groin area. He smiled, pulling him closer and swallowing Ezio. The Assassin's rough hands went to the headboard behind Machiavelli, holding on for dear life as he gently and slowly pulled in and out of Machiavelli, making sure not to choke him. Niccolo sucked roughly, his cheeks hollowing out and his hands holding onto Ezio's thighs to steady the man and make sure he didn't fall. The Assassin threw his head back and began to try to go deeper. When he was nearly there, Niccolo pushed him back slightly, pulling out. Ezio looked down, confused by this. The man's hands came up, wrapping around the man and beginning to stroke the long length. He groaned with shock, his nails digging into the soft wood and making secret marks on the back of it, towards the wall. The man slid himself up using his legs and was soon wedged between the board and Ezio. The two smiled at each other, kissing roughly. Ezio grabbed a hold of Machiavelli and began to thrust against each other. Niccolo arched his back against Ezio, making the space between them tighter and hotter and slicker as pre-cum began to make their skin wetter and their organs easier to slide against. They grabbed at each other like young boys learning exactly what sex was. Their lips connected roughly and their tongues wrestled and grappled with each other. Machiavelli moaned low, his hands raking down Ezio's back as he released into the space between them. Ezio followed him, kissing the other man roughly again. They held each other up as they returned to consciousness.
After cleaning up, Niccolo collapsed on the bed with Ezio, cuddling into their bed and the man's chest.
"Don't worry so much, Niccolo. You'll live and thrive. Promise." Reassured, Machiavelli fell into a long, deep sleep with Ezio resting next to him and sharing body heat.