Ezio had not even thought of sex with Leonardo. Physical pleasure had seemed obsolete in comparison to the mounting euphoria that clouded his chest at the mere sight of the inventor. It had only been when it became apparent that Claudia had told the order of his intentions, as Ezio announced Leonardo's probable arrival later that day, that it even made itself an issue.
Since beginning to recreate a brotherhood he had come across quite some characters. From the stoic and reserved Carlotta to the boisterous and overenthusiastic Alessandro. One of the most interesting of his students, however, was Ulivieri. He was, in retrospect, possibly not the best candidate for the assassinations he was supposed to some day undertake. A 'class clown'.
When Ezio emerged from his chambers in the morning, dressed in a shirt and breeches, dagger and rapier at his hip, he had thought it strange that the students which had already returned from their morning training thought to fall silent and attempt to watch him without moving their eyes (Simona failed at that, he noticed, and made a mental note to work with her on improving her stealth). He had thought it stranger that Rossello had turned a pale shade of green upon a mention of Leonardo's name. But what he had found the strangest of all was the hurtling of a jar at his head when he spoke of the arrangements for the evening. Luckily, he was an assassin, and reflex told him to catch the object as it hurtled, thick and heavy, for his gut. Upon catching it he was glad that it had not been any sharp implement.
Ulivieri guffawed loudly and slapped his thigh as Ezio turned the jar in his hand and asked, “What is this?”
“A treat for later,” He called and made a lewd motion with his hand. “Goose fat and olive oil. It helps things glide.” As he crumbled into laughter again at the widening of Ezio's eyes a slim hand tugged him by the ear.
“Faccia di stronzo! Do not make such lewd assumptions.” Eyes shadowed by a hood glinted in a stream of light that came from a small window high up in the wall.
Ezio filtered the noise of his squabbling students from his mind and hoped that it would not escalate into a fight as he turned the jar over in his hand. The substance inside was viscous, oily, and most likely smelt foul. A thousand questions fluttered through his head. How much, why, where, and really, how did sodomy...work?
“Stop arguing, you have better things to do.” He said absently in the direction of Ulivieri and Nonnina. He opened the lid and carefully sniffed the substance inside. Ulivieri burst into fresh peals of laughter and Nonnina harrumphed before marching off. It was not too bad. Perhaps a little belladonna would cover it.
So it was then, really, that any sexual matter jumped to mind. He sent the sheets of his bed to be washed, took the already dry set from the washerwomen in the district and redressed the down mattress, had his beard trimmed at the barber shop, bought a string of pig intestine and gave it to Rossello to clean, and bathed.
The intestine was cut and washed and lay in a dish by the bed, accompanied by the jar which now held an infusion of belladonna to mask the smell of fat and oil, and Ezio stood in the corridor, staring at the gate to the tunnels. After five minutes standing in the centre of the stone hallway, the hope and confidence he had gained during the day fell away. His stomach dropped and so did his smile.
What if Leonardo didn't come? What if Leonardo didn't even want sex?
What if Leonardo didn't want him?
Why did he even think that Leonardo was a sodomite, catamite, a 'man amongst men' in more than a genial way? What if he wasn't? What if he was, in fact, attracted only to women? What if he was just celibate?
A sickness gathered in his stomach and his knees felt weak. In his throat arose what felt like bile but tasted like fear. Dizzy with the sudden onslaught of worry, Ezio turned and moved back into the main hall. From a bottle of wine sitting on top of his desk and table he took a long swig and swallowed down that which caught in his oesophagus. Without any thought of bruising he sat heavily on the bench that ran parallel to the table.
FILL [4.a/?]
Since beginning to recreate a brotherhood he had come across quite some characters. From the stoic and reserved Carlotta to the boisterous and overenthusiastic Alessandro. One of the most interesting of his students, however, was Ulivieri. He was, in retrospect, possibly not the best candidate for the assassinations he was supposed to some day undertake. A 'class clown'.
When Ezio emerged from his chambers in the morning, dressed in a shirt and breeches, dagger and rapier at his hip, he had thought it strange that the students which had already returned from their morning training thought to fall silent and attempt to watch him without moving their eyes (Simona failed at that, he noticed, and made a mental note to work with her on improving her stealth). He had thought it stranger that Rossello had turned a pale shade of green upon a mention of Leonardo's name. But what he had found the strangest of all was the hurtling of a jar at his head when he spoke of the arrangements for the evening. Luckily, he was an assassin, and reflex told him to catch the object as it hurtled, thick and heavy, for his gut. Upon catching it he was glad that it had not been any sharp implement.
Ulivieri guffawed loudly and slapped his thigh as Ezio turned the jar in his hand and asked, “What is this?”
“A treat for later,” He called and made a lewd motion with his hand. “Goose fat and olive oil. It helps things glide.” As he crumbled into laughter again at the widening of Ezio's eyes a slim hand tugged him by the ear.
“Faccia di stronzo! Do not make such lewd assumptions.” Eyes shadowed by a hood glinted in a stream of light that came from a small window high up in the wall.
Ezio filtered the noise of his squabbling students from his mind and hoped that it would not escalate into a fight as he turned the jar over in his hand. The substance inside was viscous, oily, and most likely smelt foul. A thousand questions fluttered through his head. How much, why, where, and really, how did sodomy...work?
“Stop arguing, you have better things to do.” He said absently in the direction of Ulivieri and Nonnina. He opened the lid and carefully sniffed the substance inside. Ulivieri burst into fresh peals of laughter and Nonnina harrumphed before marching off. It was not too bad. Perhaps a little belladonna would cover it.
So it was then, really, that any sexual matter jumped to mind. He sent the sheets of his bed to be washed, took the already dry set from the washerwomen in the district and redressed the down mattress, had his beard trimmed at the barber shop, bought a string of pig intestine and gave it to Rossello to clean, and bathed.
The intestine was cut and washed and lay in a dish by the bed, accompanied by the jar which now held an infusion of belladonna to mask the smell of fat and oil, and Ezio stood in the corridor, staring at the gate to the tunnels. After five minutes standing in the centre of the stone hallway, the hope and confidence he had gained during the day fell away. His stomach dropped and so did his smile.
What if Leonardo didn't come? What if Leonardo didn't even want sex?
What if Leonardo didn't want him?
Why did he even think that Leonardo was a sodomite, catamite, a 'man amongst men' in more than a genial way? What if he wasn't? What if he was, in fact, attracted only to women? What if he was just celibate?
A sickness gathered in his stomach and his knees felt weak. In his throat arose what felt like bile but tasted like fear. Dizzy with the sudden onslaught of worry, Ezio turned and moved back into the main hall. From a bottle of wine sitting on top of his desk and table he took a long swig and swallowed down that which caught in his oesophagus. Without any thought of bruising he sat heavily on the bench that ran parallel to the table.
Merda.