All things considered, Leonardo supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.
He had known Ezio for a long time, and the man had never committed to any one woman (or man), not after he had lost his family and his home in one horrible day. Leonardo had been – and still was, truth be told – of the opinion that some part of Ezio still grieved for the loss of Cristina, and this had marred his outlook on love and relationships.
Grieve for long enough, though, and it becomes a habit.
Ezio had been a casual womaniser for so long, with so much success, that with hindsight it was hardly surprising that he had continued his ways even after pledging to love a man.
So Leonardo shouldn’t be surprised.
And yet he was. Surprised and humiliated and betrayed, not to mention angry in a way that made his eyes burn and his lips twist into a distinctly unflattering grimace. He – he was not a violent man, but he wanted to hit Ezio, hit him and hit him and hit him until he felt as bad as Leonardo did, as sick and hurt and upset.
“What’s wrong with you?” Rosa peered into his face. “Are you going to be sick?”
“I am not going to be sick,” Leonardo snapped at her, and immediately regretted it. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, and tried desperately not to think about the slight swell of Rosa’s stomach that he had put down to a recent lack of exercise, or – or overeating, or something. And was anything but.
Leonardo could not blame Rosa. Not when he and Ezio had kept things quiet, out of obvious necessity – Ezio might be able to slip away into the shadows, but Leonardo was far too public for an accusation of sodomy to simply slide off. So Rosa had no knowledge of what Ezio was doing, where she might be intruding. Rosa was also ... well, Rosa enough to have told Ezio where he could stick his cock instead if she had had any inkling of him being attached in any way.
No, the blame in this was wholly and entirely Ezio’s.
“You look like you’re going to be sick,” Rosa continued. “And I should know. I have been vomiting every day for the past week.”
Leonardo sighed. “Rosa, I appreciate your concern, but I am simply ... disappointed ... in Ezio.”
“Why?” Rosa snorted. “Disappointed that the stronzo did not magically know I am carrying his child and appear to offer me his hand amidst rose petals and caterwauling minstrels? I am not. I have not told him. I am telling you, now, because he speaks to you more than he speaks to me, and you will tell him.”
Frankly, there was little Leonardo wanted to do less. “Why not ask Antonio?”
“Because Antonio would try to skin his balls before explaining what has happened. Sometimes Antonio can be useful, and I would rather not see him killed over this.”
“Rosa, I really think I am not the best person to do this...”
Rosa rolled her eyes and shoved Leonardo off the bench. “You are the perfect person to do this. And if you come up with any more excuses I will tell Antonio that it is your child I carry. And then he will skin your balls instead.”
Lying on his back on the ground, Leonardo closed his eyes and wondered what he had ever done to God to have the Lord hate him so.
Casual Womaniser 1/?
All things considered, Leonardo supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.
He had known Ezio for a long time, and the man had never committed to any one woman (or man), not after he had lost his family and his home in one horrible day. Leonardo had been – and still was, truth be told – of the opinion that some part of Ezio still grieved for the loss of Cristina, and this had marred his outlook on love and relationships.
Grieve for long enough, though, and it becomes a habit.
Ezio had been a casual womaniser for so long, with so much success, that with hindsight it was hardly surprising that he had continued his ways even after pledging to love a man.
So Leonardo shouldn’t be surprised.
And yet he was. Surprised and humiliated and betrayed, not to mention angry in a way that made his eyes burn and his lips twist into a distinctly unflattering grimace. He – he was not a violent man, but he wanted to hit Ezio, hit him and hit him and hit him until he felt as bad as Leonardo did, as sick and hurt and upset.
“What’s wrong with you?” Rosa peered into his face. “Are you going to be sick?”
“I am not going to be sick,” Leonardo snapped at her, and immediately regretted it. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, and tried desperately not to think about the slight swell of Rosa’s stomach that he had put down to a recent lack of exercise, or – or overeating, or something. And was anything but.
Leonardo could not blame Rosa. Not when he and Ezio had kept things quiet, out of obvious necessity – Ezio might be able to slip away into the shadows, but Leonardo was far too public for an accusation of sodomy to simply slide off. So Rosa had no knowledge of what Ezio was doing, where she might be intruding. Rosa was also ... well, Rosa enough to have told Ezio where he could stick his cock instead if she had had any inkling of him being attached in any way.
No, the blame in this was wholly and entirely Ezio’s.
“You look like you’re going to be sick,” Rosa continued. “And I should know. I have been vomiting every day for the past week.”
Leonardo sighed. “Rosa, I appreciate your concern, but I am simply ... disappointed ... in Ezio.”
“Why?” Rosa snorted. “Disappointed that the stronzo did not magically know I am carrying his child and appear to offer me his hand amidst rose petals and caterwauling minstrels? I am not. I have not told him. I am telling you, now, because he speaks to you more than he speaks to me, and you will tell him.”
Frankly, there was little Leonardo wanted to do less. “Why not ask Antonio?”
“Because Antonio would try to skin his balls before explaining what has happened. Sometimes Antonio can be useful, and I would rather not see him killed over this.”
“Rosa, I really think I am not the best person to do this...”
Rosa rolled her eyes and shoved Leonardo off the bench. “You are the perfect person to do this. And if you come up with any more excuses I will tell Antonio that it is your child I carry. And then he will skin your balls instead.”
Lying on his back on the ground, Leonardo closed his eyes and wondered what he had ever done to God to have the Lord hate him so.
Oh, yes. The sin of sodomy. That would be why.