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Someone wrote in
2010-01-24 04:57 am (UTC)
filled - More Uses Than One 1/2
This is terrible, but I hate seeing a kink meme without a single response! Come on people! You gotta fic as well as request!
Ezio would not have thought when they started this that his friend would be quite so… accomplished. But he does not know anyone who would look at Leonardo da Vinci and not see a slightly flighty if endearing fellow with a quick smile and a warm laugh, so perhaps he is not to blame if he was taken unawares. It was not he who kissed Leonardo first, although he returns his kisses with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. And it was not he who soothed over his protests and deftly stripped him of his garments, although Ezio is of the mind that he can only encourage Leonardo's hands upon his bare skin now, wandering with seeming abandon into the places that make Ezio shiver and shudder in delight.
No, he certainly had not thought to find the man so well versed in such past times, and yet he is pleasantly surprised, so much so in fact that he forgets himself a little. His hands knot in Leonardo's hair, his mouth chasing for Leonardo's kiss; his thighs grip Leonardo's hips. And all the while, Leonardo is quiet; the only sounds he makes are those of pleasure, the panting of his breath. It is not right, and Ezio forgets himself enough that words spring forth with no further thought.
"Do not…" he gasps, and then clutches at Leonardo when he goes to move. As if Ezio would want him to stop at this point. "No! I mean - Oh, Holy Mother of God – speak to me…"
"Speak?" Leonardo repeats, and even breathless, he sounds amused. "What would you like me to speak of, my darling?"
Ezio has long since learned to accept Leonardo will use what endearments he will. He's long since learned that he likes them. "Anything!" he groans, pushing his hips insistently into Leonardo's. "Normally, you would not… even need to ask."
"Ah, then," Leonardo breathes, still amused, and settles back down to press another heady kiss to Ezio's open mouth. "I think I shall talk of my drawing table. Did you know, Ezio, that as I work there of a day, I think about you? I think about its height, and its dimensions, about how sturdy it is, how smooth and cool to the touch and I think about fucking you on it. I think about taking you on it like an animal, from behind, holding you down upon it and pushing into your beautiful body and I cannot work a moment longer. I am utterly consumed with passion for you. It is not a wonder, eh? That I sometimes get very little done? When in that moment all that inspires me is the sight of your thighs parted for me, the unrestrained sound of your voice, moaning your desire."
"Oh, God," Ezio swears raggedly, his entire body clenching in response, and he can see it, can picture it clearly, feels feverish with the wanting of it. Wanting is too weak a word. "Leonardo."
"Sometimes," Leonardo continues, and there seems no amusement in his tone now as he presses a kiss to Ezio's collar bone. "Sometimes I imagine kneeling behind you, and using my tongue. I lick at this place until you are babbling, utterly insensible from the feeling, until my tongue is numb and all I can taste is you."
Ezio shudders, gasping, and there is no doubt concerning the place of which Leonardo speaks, because his hand has travelled between them and his fingers are sliding into Ezio's body and to have his tongue there… oh, oh god. "Please," he whispers, shaking and spreading himself open at the same time, and he is asking for that and everything. "Please."
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