For a minstrel, he seems completely ordinary at first. Ezio saunters by and he runs up, blocking his path. The minstrel strums a lute and waves his arms and Ezio sighs and dips a hand into his money pouch. Coins scatter and the people standing nearby fling themselves to the ground to gather them. But the minstrel plays on.
“You don’t know how to have fun,” the man sings with a toothy grin.
With a smirk, Ezio keeps walking, brushing past him. “On the contrary, my friend. I know quite a bit about having fun.”
There’s a sharp pinch on his neck as the minstrel reaches around to give the front of his pants an affectionate pat.
“Not like this,” he whispers into Ezio’s ear before running off, laughing hysterically.
Heat immediately begins to spread from his neck. It drips down through his veins, flooding his arms and legs before settling between his hips. Ezio can hear his own breathing above the continued shouting of “Money! Money!” and the jostling of the crowd feels strangely lascivious.
In the midst of the almost painful clarity, he stumbles towards the first safe place he can think of.
______________________________
By the time he knocks on Leonardo’s door, Ezio is beginning to have some idea of what the minstrel meant. His body is humming and he knows he’s hard but he can’t remember why. Without waiting for an answer, he goes in.
“Ezio!” Leonardo says happily, turning to greet him before he takes in the fact that his friend is nearly doubled over. “Ezio, what’s wrong?”
Ezio waves him aside, holding out an arm to keep Leonardo at a distance as if that will somehow make it easier to conceal his predicament. As it is, his predicament is throbbing against his leg, held down by the sudden tightness of his pants.
“It’s nothing. I just needed someplace to go,” he says too loudly. He’s clawing at the closure of his cape, desperate to get out of it.
Set Fire [1/?]
“You don’t know how to have fun,” the man sings with a toothy grin.
With a smirk, Ezio keeps walking, brushing past him. “On the contrary, my friend. I know quite a bit about having fun.”
There’s a sharp pinch on his neck as the minstrel reaches around to give the front of his pants an affectionate pat.
“Not like this,” he whispers into Ezio’s ear before running off, laughing hysterically.
Heat immediately begins to spread from his neck. It drips down through his veins, flooding his arms and legs before settling between his hips. Ezio can hear his own breathing above the continued shouting of “Money! Money!” and the jostling of the crowd feels strangely lascivious.
In the midst of the almost painful clarity, he stumbles towards the first safe place he can think of.
By the time he knocks on Leonardo’s door, Ezio is beginning to have some idea of what the minstrel meant. His body is humming and he knows he’s hard but he can’t remember why. Without waiting for an answer, he goes in.
“Ezio!” Leonardo says happily, turning to greet him before he takes in the fact that his friend is nearly doubled over. “Ezio, what’s wrong?”
Ezio waves him aside, holding out an arm to keep Leonardo at a distance as if that will somehow make it easier to conceal his predicament. As it is, his predicament is throbbing against his leg, held down by the sudden tightness of his pants.
“It’s nothing. I just needed someplace to go,” he says too loudly. He’s clawing at the closure of his cape, desperate to get out of it.