“I see,” Lorenzo folded his arms, looking thoughtful – but thankfully, he did not seem angry in the least. “Did you mention this to Maria?”
“She thought it was amusing.”
“And that only?”
“She thinks it is very amusing to entertain herself at my expense by implying every night in her speech that we are… well, and then laughing when I defend myself,” Giovanni complained, pushing his master gently by the shoulders. “Could you, ah, get off my lap, Altezza?”
“Why? This is quite comfortable.” Lorenzo’s mischievous smile reminded him a little too much of Maria in one of her moods. “Then, perhaps we should not disappoint your wife. And mine, it seems.”
“But… ngh…” Giovanni tensed as Lorenzo pushed back down with another searing, passionate kiss, so startlingly incongruous with the Duke’s usual cool poise; another and another and he was squirming under his master, hands shaky over slender hips and growling as Lorenzo ground against him. He was growing aroused and- “Master…”
Lorenzo’s eyes darkened, thumbs stroking over his cheeks, the Duke’s lips kiss-reddened and curled into a faint smirk. “Do I command you in all things, Giovanni?”
Nearly all, Giovanni wanted to amend, but with his master flushed and hungry on his lap, his eyes so arresting, his tone steel and silk both; he could find no words. Instead, Giovanni smiled wryly in return as he gently took up his master’s right palm, running a lick over the lifelines and up blade calluses; up further, over the ring finger set with the Medici crest.
The Duke chuckled softly, sensuous and low. “Then we shall retire to the room, my dear Giovanni.” Long fingers trailed down his neck, under his cowl, cool over the sliver of flesh that ended under his baldric. “You shall remove all these inconvenient clothes.” Fingers picked briefly at the buckle of his baldric, then at the heavier, silver crest of the Creed at his waist. “And then I intend to take a week’s worth of pleasure from your flesh.”
The last of Giovanni’s reservations gave under Lorenzo’s silky words, and he nipped at the tip of the ring finger, lapping over the roughened pads; his master growled, and tipped his chin up to claim his lips.
-tbc…? hmm, we’ll see if I feel up to writing any sort of smut.-
In the interests of (someone else's) satisfactory married life [7/?]
“Where you were intoxicated-”
“I see,” Lorenzo folded his arms, looking thoughtful – but thankfully, he did not seem angry in the least. “Did you mention this to Maria?”
“She thought it was amusing.”
“And that only?”
“She thinks it is very amusing to entertain herself at my expense by implying every night in her speech that we are… well, and then laughing when I defend myself,” Giovanni complained, pushing his master gently by the shoulders. “Could you, ah, get off my lap, Altezza?”
“Why? This is quite comfortable.” Lorenzo’s mischievous smile reminded him a little too much of Maria in one of her moods. “Then, perhaps we should not disappoint your wife. And mine, it seems.”
“But… ngh…” Giovanni tensed as Lorenzo pushed back down with another searing, passionate kiss, so startlingly incongruous with the Duke’s usual cool poise; another and another and he was squirming under his master, hands shaky over slender hips and growling as Lorenzo ground against him. He was growing aroused and- “Master…”
Lorenzo’s eyes darkened, thumbs stroking over his cheeks, the Duke’s lips kiss-reddened and curled into a faint smirk. “Do I command you in all things, Giovanni?”
Nearly all, Giovanni wanted to amend, but with his master flushed and hungry on his lap, his eyes so arresting, his tone steel and silk both; he could find no words. Instead, Giovanni smiled wryly in return as he gently took up his master’s right palm, running a lick over the lifelines and up blade calluses; up further, over the ring finger set with the Medici crest.
The Duke chuckled softly, sensuous and low. “Then we shall retire to the room, my dear Giovanni.” Long fingers trailed down his neck, under his cowl, cool over the sliver of flesh that ended under his baldric. “You shall remove all these inconvenient clothes.” Fingers picked briefly at the buckle of his baldric, then at the heavier, silver crest of the Creed at his waist. “And then I intend to take a week’s worth of pleasure from your flesh.”
The last of Giovanni’s reservations gave under Lorenzo’s silky words, and he nipped at the tip of the ring finger, lapping over the roughened pads; his master growled, and tipped his chin up to claim his lips.
-tbc…? hmm, we’ll see if I feel up to writing any sort of smut.-