asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2

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assassin's creed

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.2
Fill Only

Welcome to the Brotherhood

∆ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.

∆ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.

∆ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.

∆ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.

∆ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.

∆ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.

∆ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!

List of Kinks
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

writeranon hates character limits with a passion

Claudia leant forwards again. She had seen her brother troubled, yes. In fact she was less likely to see him without trouble. The horrible jolt of fear settled in her stomach as a silt, heavy with apprehension.

“It is not the enemy, is it?” It was the first thought that came to her head that could require such a dark look.

“Vulnerable, I said.”

“A damsel in distress that just happens to be married?”

At this Ezio laughed, “I think that you could not be further fro the truth.”

“Well then tell me. Do you think that if I finally guess who she is-”

“He,” Ezio interrupted and looked at his fist, missing the safety curtain of his hood to hide his face.

Claudia fell short, and a confusion welled up in her. A male. It just didn't seem to fit. It was incongruous. The idea of her brother being a sodomite seemed forced. Her brother liked women, a rich pasta sauce, riding, the exhilaration of a good fight of fist or sword. But the hard planes of a man? The hair of face and chest? The deep timbre of a male voice? No. It did not fit one little bit.

The silence was heavy, a weight that tugged the organs of Ezio's body to his stomach, devoured by a sudden regret. Perhaps the feelings he felt for Leonardo quite so shamefully would have been better off kept a secret, smothered behind a cowl, a beard, a forced smile.

“You are sure?” She straightened up and pressed her skirts to lie flat again from her waist.

“Sí,” He ran his tongue over his lips to wet them, scraped chapped flesh with his teeth and worried it between incisors.

In the space between speech Ezio watched as a gondola, pushed by a young man, carried an old maid over the river, dirty water lapping at the wood. He almost forgot the dilemma he had faced himself with.

“It is Leonardo,” He finally whispered as his gut calmed and his hands no longer felt weak in their grip. From beside him Claudia nodded. With a tentative hand she patted his shoulder twice and headed back towards the Rosa In Fíore. “Where are you going?” He started from his position and turned to watch the back of of his sister's retreating form.

“I am not the one to whom you need to confess.” She called over her shoulder.

“You do not approve?”

“It is not whether I approve or not, it is whether he does. Be careful. I would not want for my Assassino brother to be sentenced to death for sodomy, and not the countless political assassinations he has carried out.” She opened the door, there was a flash of sound no longer muffled by the wood of a lute and singing, drunken giggles, then silence.

*throws laptop across the room*

THIS IS SO BRILLIANT IT MADE ME SEIZE.

Ahem. My dear. This is so lovely. Ezio's feelings are so well described and I do love Claudia's reactions. This line was my favourite:

...her interest rubbing the sleep from it's eyes, sniffing the air.

That's awesome! Aghasdlkfhasdfhahgahghgh. Losing words over this. I am so enjoying it and you are a brilliant writer as well, which is a huge plus. More soon, please? :)

*hands over cookies*

If you should break that I'm not paying for a new one, OP!
ALSO MAYBE YOU SHOULD GO FOR A DOCTOR FOR THAT. I WOULDN'T WANT YOU TO DIE OF A BRILLIANCE-SEIZURE.

Thank you, the dialogue here was a little hard for me to write as interaction with Claudia is all but non-existent in the game, and most of it that I encountered was covered up by my brother's gibbering on about this and that and DON'T DO THAT, WRITERANON (why yes, I did just type my name and then backspace the hell out of it), YOU WILL BE DOING IT DIFFERENTLY TO HOW I DID IT!
Ahem. So yes, the scene was rather hard to write, but I'm glad that it went down well.

Cookies are love. I'll admit that the bribe was the final reason to break my relenting from filling this.
More will be on the way soon, m'dear OP. Writeranon only hopes that work projects don't bog them down :)

He swam through the river, stole a horse belonging to an armoured guard, rode it close to death through the sparser regions of Rome and got into a fight with a group of guards as a result of catching one of them with the horses rump. After felling them to his sword he ran swiftly away from the scene and collapsed against the side of a brick building, panting.
The adrenaline drained from his system, his arms felt heavy. He slid down the wall and sat on the ground, no doubt dirtying the seat of his robes. Claudia was right, it was not her that he was confessing to: Leonardo should be the first to know. But how? The Borgia kept him locked up as if he himself were the apple or some other key to the knowledge of the universe, and when they could meet it was brief, secretive. Murmurs exchanged from the corner of lips and eyes scanning the crowds and rooftops to make sure that they were safe from prying eyes and that they had not been discovered. Hardly the place for a love confession. And on the small occasion that they spoke away from the bench their conversations were brief, they flinched apart at the sound of footsteps, and Ezio himself was much too on edge during those moments.
The situation looked bleak. The admission and announcement of his love looked impossible.
His knees creaked and cracked as he stood and stretched, whistling for his horse. He rode off, back towards the hideout.

These little updates are KILLING me. <3 I keep wanting to refresh, refresh, refresh on the off chance you update more. <3

LOVE THIS!!

Thank you, anon! writeranon accepts your lesser-than-three's greatly!

Reader!anon will offer more less-than-threes if it means you'll keep going. XD This is my current favorite ongoing fic, and the first one I check when I get the updates from the meme. <3

Ahh, well there are two more up now.
YOU MAKE WRITERANON BLUSH SO HARD.

Ezio stood numbly in the middle of the street, people weaving around him as if he were a stone in a stream. In his sights was a bench, innocently sitting beside a building, empty but for a fabric of rich red draped over it and a hand sketched in drafting chalk on the masonry, pointing a single index finger at the empty seat. One of Leonardo's benches. Ezio checked the clock upon a tower that shadowed the street. The rush of water flowing through the aqueduct mixed with soft murmuring of couples as they walked the cobbled streets. A crone, bent steeply to compensate for the pain in her back, muttered to herself inaudibly, dribbling between her gums. He had another ten minutes before Leonardo made his round and glanced the bench, vacant, or – if he was brave enough – occupied by himself. He took a deep breath and let it hiss out of his nose. His fingers flexed, the hidden blades adorning both wrists slid out and then back in cleanly. Nine minutes. Time was passing. And yet he still stood there, staring at that bench, not moving, clearly gaining a couple of stares now (which was really quite dangerous in his profession). Vaguely, Ezio wandered whether this was what it was like to be one of those caged birds that Leonardo seemed so intent on releasing. Then he shook himself from that line of thought, knowing that they would do nothing but distract him and that the task at hand would not do well to be put off for another day. The bench he was staring at had been quite out of his way, after all.
Five minutes. A quad of guards walked past him, armour clacking together with each step, weapons at their sides or waving dangerously in from of them. He was brushed to the side as they kept to their diamond formation, and it knocked him out of his stupor. As if he hadn't been standing still in the middle of the street for the last fifteen or so minutes, he walked towards the bench, mindful of the contents of his stomach and how they churned with nerves. The fabric folded and creased under his weight as he sat on the stone and twisted his hands together nervously. The metal of his armoured glove slipped easily from the clammy grasp of his sweaty palm, and he soothed himself by rubbing melodically at the smooth surface, tracing the slim edge with the calloused pad of a finger, staring at a pebble in the street.
A presence sat next to him, and he straightened a little in order to catch from the corner of his eye a familiar tunic and delicate golden embroidery. There was a moment of silence between the two, to calm the nerves of any who may be watching.
“How can I help you, my friend?”
Ezio stretched up as if cracking his back, let out a groan of satisfaction at the click that followed and placed his hand on the bench, either side of his legs. “I came to ask you to meet me tomorrow.” He mumbled back.
“Tomorrow? Why not now? Is there something to happen?” It was dangerous, but the weight of fingers tapped and stayed against his own on the bench, warm and calloused. Ezio drew his hand from beneath Leonardo's and brought it to lay over the back of his hand, curling around, savouring the feel of skin on skin.
“This is not the place to tell you.” He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes to collect his thoughts, calm his body. Though he was still and collected during a kill, he wondered just why a conversation could devour his stoicism completely.
“Is something wrong?” He leant forwards and towards Ezio, face obviously turned towards him now.
“Be careful. They may be watching.” He opened him eyes, stared at the pebble, flinches his hand over hair dappled skin. Leonardo straightened and looked about.
“The coast is clear.”
“Are you sure?” Despite the seeming lack of trust Ezio turned towards Leonardo and drunk in his face. The blue of his eyes, the tan of his skin, the freckles standing out clearly as they peppered themselves over his nose. His beard had grown longer. He looked healthy but for the bags beneath his eyes, almost a mauve in colour.
“Ezio, are you sure that you are all right?”

FAIL. WRITEANON SUCKS.
Ezio stood numbly in the middle of the street, people weaving around him as if he were a stone in a stream. In his sights was a bench, innocently sitting beside a building, empty but for a fabric of rich red draped over it and a hand sketched in drafting chalk on the masonry, pointing a single index finger at the empty seat. One of Leonardo's benches. Ezio checked the clock upon a tower that shadowed the street. The rush of water flowing through the aqueduct mixed with soft murmuring of couples as they walked the cobbled streets. A crone, bent steeply to compensate for the pain in her back, muttered to herself inaudibly, dribbling between her gums. He had another ten minutes before Leonardo made his round and glanced the bench, vacant, or – if he was brave enough – occupied by himself. He took a deep breath and let it hiss out of his nose. His fingers flexed, the hidden blades adorning both wrists slid out and then back in cleanly. Nine minutes. Time was passing. And yet he still stood there, staring at that bench, not moving, clearly gaining a couple of stares now (which was really quite dangerous in his profession). Vaguely, Ezio wandered whether this was what it was like to be one of those caged birds that Leonardo seemed so intent on releasing. Then he shook himself from that line of thought, knowing that they would do nothing but distract him and that the task at hand would not do well to be put off for another day. The bench he was staring at had been quite out of his way, after all.

Five minutes. A quad of guards walked past him, armour clacking together with each step, weapons at their sides or waving dangerously in from of them. He was brushed to the side as they kept to their diamond formation, and it knocked him out of his stupor. As if he hadn't been standing still in the middle of the street for the last fifteen or so minutes, he walked towards the bench, mindful of the contents of his stomach and how they churned with nerves. The fabric folded and creased under his weight as he sat on the stone and twisted his hands together nervously. The metal of his armoured glove slipped easily from the clammy grasp of his sweaty palm, and he soothed himself by rubbing melodically at the smooth surface, tracing the slim edge with the calloused pad of a finger, staring at a pebble in the street.

A presence sat next to him, and he straightened a little in order to catch from the corner of his eye a familiar tunic and delicate golden embroidery. There was a moment of silence between the two, to calm the nerves of any who may be watching.

“How can I help you, my friend?”

Ezio stretched up as if cracking his back, let out a groan of satisfaction at the click that followed and placed his hand on the bench, either side of his legs. “I came to ask you to meet me tomorrow.” He mumbled back.

“Tomorrow? Why not now? Is there something to happen?” It was dangerous, but the weight of fingers tapped and stayed against his own on the bench, warm and calloused. Ezio drew his hand from beneath Leonardo's and brought it to lay over the back of his hand, curling around, savouring the feel of skin on skin.

“This is not the place to tell you.” He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes to collect his thoughts, calm his body. Though he was still and collected during a kill, he wondered just why a conversation could devour his stoicism completely.

“Is something wrong?” He leant forwards and towards Ezio, face obviously turned towards him now.

“Be careful. They may be watching.” He opened him eyes, stared at the pebble, flinches his hand over hair dappled skin. Leonardo straightened and looked about.

“The coast is clear.”

“Are you sure?” Despite the seeming lack of trust Ezio turned towards Leonardo and drunk in his face. The blue of his eyes, the tan of his skin, the freckles standing out clearly as they peppered themselves over his nose. His beard had grown longer. He looked healthy but for the bags beneath his eyes, almost a mauve in colour.

“Ezio, are you sure that you are all right?”

Ezio snapped from his reverie and brought a hand to his own face. His beard was growing too long, it needed to be shaved without too much closeness and then grown back. Would kissing someone with a beard as long as Leonardo's be scratchy or uncomfortable? Or would it tickle, provide an interesting texture? “I need to bathe and shave.” He muttered, mostly to himself.

“Ezio?”

“Tiber Island Hideout, tomorrow at dusk. You should hire some thieves or courtesans to distract your followers and then take the underground pipes. It always works.” The hand beneath his palm curled, then retreated.

“I do not know, my friend. It will be dangerous.” Leonardo frowned and then looked off to the side, placing his hands in his lap.

“It will, hopefully, be worth it. Please, Leonardo.” Ezio shifted to catch the painter's eye and succeeded, holding it for a moment before they relented.

“Fine.”

He allowed a warm smile to flit across his face and then stood up to leave.

OHYAY! More! :D

I love how Leonardo's automatically like, "OMG WHAT'S GOING DOWN" and Ezio's like "chill bro, just meet me here"

Except... you know, more in character and janks. Uh. *cough* Really bad at reviewing right now, but... Gonna say I check this religiously and it makes me so happy that a fabulous writer is filling my prompt. :3

*tosses more cookies*

You make me blush, and laugh, and then blush again.
And man, I don't think you're bad at reviewing at all.
Cookies!

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.

Merda.

OH, NO, EZIO! *hugs him and cries* DON'T WORRY! I'M SURE LEONARDO LOVES YOU!

*cough* ... *promptly sits back down and enjoys story*

WRITERANON IS SURE TOO AND HAS TRIED CONSOLING EZIO, BUT HE WON'T LISTEN.

Not OP is in love. <3 Ezio needs to get his recruits under control though! That's no way to treat their maestro!

I love how the doubts creep in as he waits. Can't wait for more! :3

I'm glad that you're in love, randomanon! Also, I think that there is a level of respect between the assassins and recruits etc., but at the same time these men and women have lost everything and left whatever they had of a family behind to be a recruit or assassin. I see the guild/brotherhood therefore becoming a new family to them. Just a matter of opinion, though :) Though I do expect that as time goes on the recruits, especially Ulivieri, will eventually calm and settle down and learn how to show respect and familiarity without chucking jars of lubricant at each other :)

More should be on the way, dear anon!

It is not a bad opinion. I really do love stories that involve the Brotherhood because of that fact, that they become this mixed-bag little family. At least Ulivieri was trying to be helpful! XD

Writeranon is sorry for the lack of updates in the last few days, but she is working on the big scene and has also found herself surrounded by projects all of a sudden. She would like everyone to know that she has not abandoned and is, in fact, incredibly excited to give you the rest of the fills, which should hopefully be up within the next week!

This anon knows how it feels to be super busy when trying to write a fill. I can be patient, knowing that more is coming! :D

Never a worry, dear! Take your time <3

writeranon is sorry for the wait and gives you the rest of part 4 :) Part 5 should be here soon.

He had a glass of wine, untouched, sitting before him. The light from beyond the windows had dimmed considerably in the dusk hours. It was a mere fifteen minutes since Ezio had taken up the bottle and besides pouring two glasses out – one for him, one for his guest, should he arrive – the wine remained untouched as Ezio preferred to drink and wallow in his own worries.

How could he have been so stupid as to think – no, expect – the return of his feelings? What evidence did he even have to suggest that Leonardo even wished to take part in any such romance? Besides the absence of a woman at Leonardo's side and a distant memory of his father defending Leonardo at court on claim of sodomy; none.

Idly he ran his finger around the rim of his wine glass, his finger neither wet nor smooth enough to bring forth the ringing sound that he remembers his father teaching him to do at the age of seven. He needed to sort out his thoughts, to bring about some semblance of order. He scrambled up and towards the blackboard on which he and his recruits kept tally of achievements. With a piece of chalk in hand he began to scrawl hurriedly;

Facts of which I am sure:
I love Leonardo.
Leonardo is on his way to the hideout.

Those of which I am unsure:
Leonardo's feelings.
Leonardo's safe arrival.
Leonardo's preferences (sodomite, celibate?)
Leonardo's reaction.
How to partake in acts of so

An iron gate swung shut on un-oiled hinges. The latch caught with a click. Ezio turned to catch a view of his visitor at coming towards the main room. His name rang from the hall and he blindly wiped at the list with the side of his hand, smudging chalk on the board and down his hand and arm as the sleeve fell back.

“Ezio?” Leonardo turned the corner, caught sight of him and smiled, visibly relieved to see him. By his eyes the skin creased, around his nostrils the nasal crease steepened and his lips gave way to rows of teeth in a smile. He walked further into the room, arms opening in an invitation

“Leonardo.” He straightened up, dusted off his palm on his breeches and smiled in return, meeting the inventor partway in an embrace. His clothes, still cold from the lingering air of the tunnels, chilled Ezio's skin through his thin shirt, but the warmth of Leonardo's breath assured him that yes, his friend truly was here, and yes, he would be wasting their time if he were not to confess.

They drew back, hands clinging to forearm's for moments after the embrace before falling away.

“I hope that you did not have too much trouble getting here. Your followers, you lost them?” Ezio moved back towards the benches and table, taking up a glass of wine and offering it to Leonardo, who accepted it gratefully.

“It was a little difficult. The women I hired to distract them were very clingy, Ezio. I had not quite realised that they would expect that I was buying them for the traditional reason instead of some daring escape.” He took a sip of wine before sitting across from Ezio and smiling almost expectantly.

“I suppose that they may be a little much at times. I am sorry, I did not think it through.” He took his place, leaving his wine to one side. “I had made the assumption that you would know how to fend them off, should they take to you.”

“It is quite all right. I merely do not deal with women often. And when I do it is only for them to sit patiently for hours on end, a canvas between us.”

An opening!

“You have not had relations with a woman?” He grasped at it and attempted to finger it open delicately. There was a clack as the wine glass was placed back down on the wooden table. Leonardo's mouth opened and closed a couple of times with no sound. He turned red.

“Please, my friend, let us not talk of such trivial things,” He said at last. “There must be something important for you to ask me to come here.” The opening slipped away from his hands, the room behind still a mystery.

For a moment Ezio considered telling him no; there was no reason for Leonardo to have risked the journey here for anything other than a chat and a glass or two of wine. Ezio merely wished for his company during times of great hardship. He only wished to hear him talk about his current life; to hear him spill out his theories and thoughts as he was so often wont to do in Ezio's company. He took a drink of wine to stall his answer. Any traces of Leonardo's smile disappeared as he gauged the conversation to be one of grave importance. Ezio laughed bitterly into his cup. After all, it was important.

“Do not look so serious, Leonardo. I should hope that what I have to tell you is not so grave. I do so enjoy seeing you smile.”

Leonardo flushed again, twisted and knotted his fingers, attempted to coax a smile to his lips. “Please do not leave me in the dark any longer. I lost sleep last night over what could possibly be of such importance for you to invite me here. I do not wish to do so again; to lie awake at night is torture.”

Ezio felt a guilt sink into the flesh of his stomach. All of a sudden this was a serious conversation with gravity; repercussions. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, grinding his fingers into his cheeks. “Leonardo...”

A pause, the sound of flames from candles flickering.

“It is not easy to say...”

YET ANOTHER WRITERANON FAIL. ABOVE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 4.c/5!

“Please, just say it.” Leonardo's voice was now a whisper, the depth of his voice giving way to emotions; fear, concern, apprehension. Please, Ezio thought, let there be hope and acceptance; tolerance, anything, in that voice as well.

“At first,” His throat had tightened, voice weak. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath. Calmed himself. “At first I tried to ignore it. I did not deny it; no, I never denied it. I merely...stupidly believed that with time it would dull and become bearable. More of a flutter than a giant swoop. Like taking a leap into a cart below. At first your heart is in your throat and you shake uncontrollably. Now, I have no qualms or fears.”

Leonardo leant forwards and the bench creaked beneath him, “I'm afraid I don't understand -”
“Please,” He stopped him. The sound of Leonardo's voice was enough to make his heart race and his breath quicken, his muscles tense and tongue knot. “I never denied it, only ignored it. But the thing is, it never dulled. It just...added up. It just keeps on gaining in ferocity so that soon, just the sound of your name can make me feel...”

The confusion on Leonardo's face when Ezio looked up, begging him to understand, was painful. The breath he had held in his lungs expelled in a rush and he groaned, closing his eyes once more to the image.

“Oh, Leonardo, please. Please understand this. You do not even have to return the sentiment. I do not ask of you anything but tolerance. Acceptance, if you will give it. Please.”

Leonardo, visibly distressed, shuffled closer, reached out a bare hand and lay it over Ezio's own, squeezing in an attempt to give him reassurance. “Please, I do not understand. Ezio, I do not understand this.”

He tensed, and then relaxed his muscles, visibly slumping. The fluttering butterflies that had been in his stomach transformed into a hive of bees. Silently he took the hand that lay over his own and brought it to his lips, pressing stained fingers to them desperately.

The hand tightened around his. A sharp intake of breath could be heard. Ezio awaited the verdict. The breathing seemed to disappear in the room at all and he became aware that his own was stalled in his throat and Leonardo's...if it weren't for the fingers at his lips he would not think he were there at all.

And then it moved away. Ezio's heart dropped. It devastated. It died. He screwed his eyes up even tighter, his breath escaped him.

And it returned. Finger glided over his bearded cheek, nestled in his hair. A palm pressed itself to his skin and everything was reversed. His heart jumped back up and into his throat, his nerves were alight, alive and sensitive to every movement of that skin pressed to his own.

“Ezio,” Leonardo's voice fluctuated in his whisper, a desperation so obviously evident. “Ezio, please let me not be thinking of this as something it isn't.”

Words seemed impossible, each one fighting to clamber from his mouth. He turned his head and pressed his lips to the palm, breath stuttering. He couldn't calm himself.

“At first,” he started, and his voice was broken but the delicacy of the moment told him not to fix that. To not break the tenderness with the roughness of his throat. “At first I tried to ignore it. I never denied it, but...”

“But?”

“Now, at the mere mention of your name, Leonardo, I feel myself...falling.”

“Falling?”

“Yes.”

“What are you falling into?”

Ezio shook his head, moving against the palm, and then pressed his lips to it again and again. “Love.”

Leonardo's breath shook. His hand trembled and twitched.

“At the mere mention of your name. When I see you it is like...like my heart is strapped into your flying machine and has taken off without me.” He laughed into Leonardo's palm. “When we embrace it is like my heart pushes against my chest in an attempt to be closer to your own.” He took a shuddering breath and let it out. “Please, Leonardo.”

FILL [2.c/?]

OP

Re: OP

FILL [3.a/?]

Re: FILL [3.a/?]

Re: FILL [3.a/?]

Re: FILL [3.a/?]

Re: FILL [3.a/?]

FILL [3.b/?]

FILL [3.b/?]

FILL [3.c/?]

OP flailing happily

Re: OP flailing happily

FILL [4.a/?]

OP

Re: OP

Re: FILL [4.a/?]

Re: FILL [4.a/?]

Re: FILL [4.a/?]

WRITERANON

Re: WRITERANON

OP

FILL [4.b/5]

Re: FILL [4.b/5]

FILL [4.d/5]