"And when you are wet," Leonardo tells him lowly, a little roughly as Ezio has never heard him sound before, and his fingers push and slide and stretch until Ezio is near mad from it. "When you are wet and open from it, I will draw you back to my chair and ease you down. I want to watch as my cock slides into you. I want to watch as you ride me, like that, leaned over, steadying yourself on my work table while I watch my cock in you. I think I could be so engaged for hours, until you are raw and red and begging me. Oh, Ezio. Ezio."

Leonardo's kiss is desperate then, a little rough and senseless and Ezio moans into it and clutches Leonardo to him and he cannot breathe and he can only... He wants... "Oh, god. Oh, god, Leonardo. Fuck me. Fuck me. Please, you must…"

"Ezio," Leonardo grates, and his fingers drag out of Ezio's body and then his cockhead is pushing back in and Ezio takes him, throws back his head and groans and pulls him to and Leonardo is fully seated inside him, and then dragging back out again and thrusting into him, then again, then again; a harsh hard burn, a desperate, brutal rhythm and Ezio wraps his legs around the man and pushes back, harder, until he is grunting on every thrust, air punching out of him and Leonardo's breath pants ragged above him and he is so close, there, almost there.

"Leo! Leo! Ah! Please!"

Leonardo's hand around his leaking cock is like a revelation and damnation together, and Ezio is swept up into it, thrusting once, and then again and then the pleasure explodes behind his eyes and it is perfect, divine, robbing him of all sense but the weight of Leonardo on him, the sharp thrust of his hips, the shudder in his shoulders and his voice uttering Ezio's name like a prayer, no longer talking but saying everything that Ezio might ever desire to hear.