“Not here, obviously,” she said, indicating the empty chamber. Her face became closed, and Ezio wondered if the Duca had gone to scout near Ravenna. He had overheard the guards discussing his alliance with the Pope.
“And Patrizio is dead,” she said, her face devoid of emotion. “But I expect you knew that already.”
“You seem very calm about this,” he said, “given that you said he was special to you.” Her expression did not change, so he dropped the point. “And what of the others, Lucrezia?”
“What others?” she snapped.
Ezio smiled faintly. “Why stop at two?”
“Ipocrita,” she said. “You judge me for my appetites, but the list of your conquests exceeds my own in every way, except the scrutiny of society. We are -"
"Nothing alike," he said, stepping in close to lay a gloved finger gently against her lips.
She turned her head aside, so that his finger traced her cheekbone. "So you think, Auditore. I know better.”
“Do you, now,” he said. He stroked her jawline, ran his thumb across the delicate line of her collarbone. She closed her eyes.
“I know that, like me, you seek pleasure when you cannot have love. Did you find Leonardo da Vinci safe, Assassino? You know that there are... strange discussions about the two of you, and stranger still about the Maestro and his 'assistant'. How did it feel, to rescue your friend, only to return him to his lover? Is that why you have come to me?”
“Do not speak of this, Lucrezia,” he said. His voice took on a warning growl, harsher than he had intended, and he felt ashamed of himself. But Lucrezia only smiled in satisfaction.
“You know nothing about me,” he told her, but they both knew that was untrue. Lucrezia was surprisingly astute. He could not help but think that, had she applied her brain to politics instead of petty jealousies, she could have been formidable in her own right.
He loomed ever closer towards her. She walked backwards, and he followed, invading her space in subtle threat. Her back touched the wall but he did not stop. He took her hands, pinned them gently against the wall above her head, and began to kiss her. He kept his eyes open as he pushed his tongue between her lips. He reached for the hem of her nightgown and lifted it, slipping his hand underneath. Through the leather of his glove, he felt the sleek warm skin of her inner thigh.
She gasped in pleasure, kissing him back. Her shoulders writhed against the wall. "No," she moaned into his mouth. “Ezio... Stop -”
He dropped his hands to her hips.
"As you wish, Duchessa," he said softly, and bowed. He brushed a last kiss to her cheekbone, scraping her smooth pale cheek with his beard. Then he let her go.
Rage glittered in her blue eyes – she was ready to slap him. “Bastardo”.
"You said to stop, Lucrezia. I have no desire to force you." That was not strictly true. The kiss had made him hard as steel. But only a fool would not have seen this coming. A fool, or a young man; and perhaps they were the same thing.
He walked towards the balcony, hands ready to draw the hood of his cloak back up.
“Wait,” said Lucrezia. There was a note of vulnerability in her voice that told him he had won. “I - meant only that we should move to my bed.” With his back still to her, Ezio smirked and let go of his hood.
FILL: Comfort [2/?]
“And Patrizio is dead,” she said, her face devoid of emotion. “But I expect you knew that already.”
“You seem very calm about this,” he said, “given that you said he was special to you.” Her expression did not change, so he dropped the point. “And what of the others, Lucrezia?”
“What others?” she snapped.
Ezio smiled faintly. “Why stop at two?”
“Ipocrita,” she said. “You judge me for my appetites, but the list of your conquests exceeds my own in every way, except the scrutiny of society. We are -"
"Nothing alike," he said, stepping in close to lay a gloved finger gently against her lips.
She turned her head aside, so that his finger traced her cheekbone. "So you think, Auditore. I know better.”
“Do you, now,” he said. He stroked her jawline, ran his thumb across the delicate line of her collarbone. She closed her eyes.
“I know that, like me, you seek pleasure when you cannot have love. Did you find Leonardo da Vinci safe, Assassino? You know that there are... strange discussions about the two of you, and stranger still about the Maestro and his 'assistant'. How did it feel, to rescue your friend, only to return him to his lover? Is that why you have come to me?”
“Do not speak of this, Lucrezia,” he said. His voice took on a warning growl, harsher than he had intended, and he felt ashamed of himself. But Lucrezia only smiled in satisfaction.
“You know nothing about me,” he told her, but they both knew that was untrue. Lucrezia was surprisingly astute. He could not help but think that, had she applied her brain to politics instead of petty jealousies, she could have been formidable in her own right.
He loomed ever closer towards her. She walked backwards, and he followed, invading her space in subtle threat. Her back touched the wall but he did not stop. He took her hands, pinned them gently against the wall above her head, and began to kiss her. He kept his eyes open as he pushed his tongue between her lips. He reached for the hem of her nightgown and lifted it, slipping his hand underneath. Through the leather of his glove, he felt the sleek warm skin of her inner thigh.
She gasped in pleasure, kissing him back. Her shoulders writhed against the wall. "No," she moaned into his mouth. “Ezio... Stop -”
He dropped his hands to her hips.
"As you wish, Duchessa," he said softly, and bowed. He brushed a last kiss to her cheekbone, scraping her smooth pale cheek with his beard. Then he let her go.
Rage glittered in her blue eyes – she was ready to slap him. “Bastardo”.
"You said to stop, Lucrezia. I have no desire to force you." That was not strictly true. The kiss had made him hard as steel. But only a fool would not have seen this coming. A fool, or a young man; and perhaps they were the same thing.
He walked towards the balcony, hands ready to draw the hood of his cloak back up.
“Wait,” said Lucrezia. There was a note of vulnerability in her voice that told him he had won. “I - meant only that we should move to my bed.” With his back still to her, Ezio smirked and let go of his hood.