(fic) Method of Inquiry part 4 AC2 Ezio/Leonardo

[squirrellysemantics]

Title: Method of Inquiry
Chapter 4
Fandom: Assassin's Creed 2
Pairing: Leonardo/Ezio
I do not own AC2 or its characters.
Rating NC 17 for this chapter
Warning: slash content (which also should go without saying), will eventually contain some bdsm elements.
Ubisoft owns all characters, not I

Summary:  A young Ezio spends time with this new artist his mother keeps going on about.

Set in-game prior to Uberto Alberti's betrayal.

Located here is Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
 
Feedback as always gratefully accepted.  Any comments and critique are always welcome.

It's divinebird 's birthday!  She asked me when the next chapter of this was coming out and apparently I'm too crappy a friend to give a real gift so.... now?  Hope you like it!

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Flames danced higher though Leonardo did not notice.  He mindlessly stirred and stirred and stirred, the contents of his small brown pot bubbling unnoticed while he was too consumed with other things. 

It had been two weeks since Ferragosto.  Two weeks since he had returned with Ezio from the countryside. 

Two weeks since he’d last heard from the young man at all.

“Merda!”

The word was out of him like a shot, pain raining down across the back of his hand.  His soupy concoction had gone ignored for too long, boiling beeswax splattering against unprotected skin. A bucket of water saved him, quickly cooling the wax before it could burn him too badly.  He took to a chair heavily, discarding the pot with the others littering his table; yet another spoiled attempt at preparing his paints.

 What a mess he was; mooning about like some petulant child with Ezio too much on his mind.

This silence was maddening.  The first messenger he’d sent had sworn his letter had been delivered to the Auditore household.  So had the second.   Leonardo attempted to call on Ezio at home but Annetta had greeted him at the door with a look full of sympathy to tell him the young man was not at home. 

He hadn’t had the courage to return.

Two weeks and he could still feel the kiss under the night’s sky.  See the man’s smile. Feel himself being tested by Ezio’s grasp.   

What a fool he was. 

Leonardo reached for another bowl with a sigh.  More creative invectives came to mind as he used the muller to grind his pigments with no small amount of violence.

Idiota. 

Trust had been hard for Leonardo to find again.  Not when he’d almost been handed a death sentence. Newly famous he might have been, but a few anonymous words put to paper was all it took to for him to be simply a bastard once more.  

Charges of sodomy. Threatened with the gallows for something that all Firenze was accustomed to as long as it kept itself behind closed doors.   Open accusations though would not be ignored no matter how steeped in anonymity.  That fact had been etched into his mind.

The beatings that he’d been sentenced to as punishment made sure of that.

He rustled through a collection of vials, barely aware of what he did as he went through the motions.  His hands found their way to the oil of poppy seed with little help from his mind.

How naïve he had been to think that Ezio would consign all of that to the past.  Leonardo had been so careful, so keen to watch and observe before he made that first ham fisted overture that Ezio had been so quick to accept.  It had felt so real, so right during their night under the stars.

Yet the past two weeks made him keenly aware that he had somehow misjudged.

A pool of oil was suddenly spreading across his table, having completely missed the bowl as he poured without thinking.

Imbecille. 

He hastened to save what he could from further disaster, haphazardly shoving aside papers and scrolls as he used a rag to sop up the evidence of his ineptitude.  The stack of his papers was now too precariously close to the edge and tumbled to the floor, much to his dismay.

Fate was petty as well as cruel, it seemed.

He sorted through the pile, trying to return them to the semblance of order they’d been in prior to their fall.  As he returned the sheets to the table, a small scrap fluttered from it, determined to return to the floor.  He retrieved it with a frown, unsure why there was so little writing upon it.  Paper was so scarce, so expensive he was wont to use every square inch he could.  Was it a note from a patron?  No, it was easily recognizable as his own hand.

I am without any friends

A wave hit him, cold and numbing; a jump into a lake too early in the spring. 

He tried to keep the shake from his hands, turning the paper over even though he knew full well what was on the other side.

If there is no love, what then?

Dio mio, what damnable piece of idiocy had made him keep this?  Waiting for a sentence that might have had him swinging at the end of a rope, he had written it in his darkest hour.  Had it really only been months ago? He should have burned the paper and buried the ashes.  Forgotten its very existence. Yet here it was, stabbing at the same wound that was again now raw and bloodied.

The note slipped from his fingers, floated gently back atop the stack, deceptively light though it weighed so heavily on his mind.

Leonardo needed to be rid of this despondency before it crushed him.  He carried himself to the back corner of his workshop and peered into the darkness.  Kneeling, he ran his hands over one leather bound case, then another as if deciding on a book.  He settled on the smaller case and eased it open.

The case was worn and battered; doing its duty to protect the instrument inside it.  A twist to tighten the horsehaired bow before it was set aside.  Leonardo pulled the lira da braccio from its resting place and began to tune it string by string.  Once satisfied, he took them both in hand and set the lira against his shoulder to play.

He paced the length of his workshop with eyes closed as he played, knowing precisely the path he needed from his hours of practice.  Its sound filled him, made him whole.  Rich and layered, the lira harmonized with itself in the most fantastical of ways.   The bordone –the drone it created- hummed along with the chords he chose, weaving its way through the notes. He improvised as he so often did to create a mournful song, a song of longing.

It could have been minutes or hours that he played but he played until his ache had faded. 

“That was beautiful.”

Leonardo nearly dropped his precious lira, twisting to find the source of that voice.  “Ezio!”

He was there.  No ghost or illusion.  A handsome young man bearing a small satchel and a sheepish smile.  “I knocked, but you did not answer. I heard you playing so…”

“No, no that’s quite all right.” Leonardo set the lira aside, trying to shield his breathlessness. “I sometimes get lost in my music.”

“Am I disturbing you?” The young man showed much trepidation. “I can return later if you wish.”

Leonardo studied him with confusion.  He found no malice, no trickery.  “I fear this day is already counted as lost. Please stay.”

Ezio came closer, smelling of sweat and horses.  “I have something to show you.”

This was met with stunned silence.  It was as if the past two weeks had not happened.  Which of them had gone mad, for Leonardo could not be sure?

Taking no notice in his excitement, Ezio set the satchel down where the remains of the day’s disastrous beginnings were strewn about.   He removed a bundle of cloth from his bag and carefully began to peel back its layers.

Curiosity brought Leonardo out of his daze and he could not resist examining its contents. Cogs and pulleys, some broken, some not. Springs and wire of his own design. 

His breath left him.  “The clock from the rooftops!” he exclaimed, remembering that fateful night where it had met its unfortunate demise.  Leonardo was baffled, a state he rarely found himself in.  “But that was weeks ago!”

“I know. I retrieved them the very next evening, though the guards gave me some trouble,” Ezio admitted as if this were a minor inconvenience.  “It was what needed replacing that took so long.”  He reached into his waistcoat, full of apology. “They were held up in Bologna so I rode out to fetch them. The road outside Monzuno was washed out or I would have been back days ago.”

Ezio presented an assortment of wheels of different sizes, each one crafted to match their damaged originals. 

“You went to Bologna?” Leonardo felt lightheaded.  “For this?”

“For you,” Ezio corrected softly.  As Leonardo’s silence stretched out between them, worry made the words trip off of Ezio’s tongue. “Is this not right?  I can go back. Get what you need. I probably should have asked first but I thought it best be a surpr-“

The sentiment was never finished since Leonardo captured the other man in a kiss.  Ezio was clearly perplexed at the relief that was poured into this kiss, but happily appreciated the forcefulness that came with it.  Lips and teeth and tongue were around and in and through.  The parts of the clock lay forgotten as Ezio let himself be devoured.

Leonardo finally released him, wondering if his heart would explode at seeing the wanton flush on the younger man’s face.

“So I take it you are pleased?” Ezio asked in a daze.

“Very much so,” Leonardo answered, smile coming easily for the first time in days. “Come.  Let us dine.”

Ezio would not argue.

After dinner, Leonardo insisted on disposing the wreckage that he’d created earlier in the day.  He was surprised to hear a few plucked notes as Ezio picked out a simple tune on the lira’s strings

“Do you play?” Leonardo tried to keep the astonishment from his voice.

“At my mother’s insistence,” Ezio admitted with a laugh.  “My nine year old self cursed many summer afternoons that wound up being lost to a lyre.”

Leonardo was captivated.  “Could I hear you? We can play together.”

At this Ezio blanched.  “My skills are far inferior to yours.”  Seeing the artist’s face start to fall, he quickly amended, “But I will if you wish it.”

This was all Leonardo needed.  He fetched the lyre from amongst the other instruments in his collection. “What songs do you know?” Leonardo asked as he presented it to Ezio.

“My repertoire is rather limited I’m afraid,” he said idly, taking a seat to tune the lyre with competence.  “I think I remember ‘Quant de vous seul’.  My sister made us play it for her far too many times.”

The French song was an old one that had been popular all across Europe.  Leonardo knew it well, for it was often requested.

They sat together and played.  Ezio showed his distaste at each note that he missed but his body soon remembered and the melody fell into place.  The lira and the lyre complemented each other beautifully, creating a textured harmony.

“Again?”  Leonardo asked with more than a touch of hope, the song ending far too quickly.

Ezio beamed.  “For you? Of course.”

The song began again.

And this time- Leonardo began to sing.  His usual tenor was clear and he used it to its full range.

Quant de vous seul.

For you alone.

Leonardo knew little French, but his ear for music made sure he captured its essence.  Someone had translated it for him, but he did not need to know the words to understand their emotion.  He knew his voice was pleasant enough for people would not clamor for him to sing if it were not so.

Quant de vous seul je pers la veue.

For you alone I lose my sight.

His heart wrapped up in it, Leonardo knew the song took on new meaning.  He was transported until the last notes died away. 

He looked up to see Ezio standing over him, lyre carefully abandoned. 

“Amazing,” Ezio whispered before leaning in for a kiss.

Leonardo was not as careful about setting down his lira.  He returned the kiss with a hunger that had been bottled up for fourteen days, fists balling up in the hair that fell loosely about Ezio’s face.

It made Ezio chuckle. That warm, seductive rumble that shouldn’t have made Leonardo’s pulse race as it did that set him to moving, pulling Ezio to the floor to kneel with him. 

Complex lacings and buttons were little barrier to Leonardo and he mouthed each new section of bronzed skin he revealed. He could taste the grime and sweat along the taut line of Ezio’s neck and savored the flavor.  Ezio was doing his best to return the favor, reaching to undress the artist but Leonardo gave him little chance. 

Shoving the half dressed man down, Leonardo forced Ezio to stretch out on his back, presenting this magnificent body that was an instrument of sex that Leonardo needed to play. 

So he did.

First laving long paths clean with his tongue to follow with small nips and finally bites.  He enjoyed watching Ezio give voice to the rhythm he had set.  The sighs, the moans, the cries.  It all sounded with perfect pitch. 

He finally let himself look at Ezio’s arousal, rising half hard from a nest of curls, and engulfed it.   There was no patience left for finesse.  Not for either of them.  Leonardo nursed on it, feeling it firm against his tongue.  The sweat was here too, distinctly Ezio. 

The scent pushed his own body well past throbbing.

His hands had business of their own to attend to; working what parts he could not wholly take in.  He could feel Ezio straining, desperate for more, so Leonardo let him in deeper.

The guttural moan this caused had him smiling around the shaft in his mouth. 

A few more minutes of motion and Ezio grew more and more frantic.  “Leonardo!  Please!”

He knew not what Ezio begged for so beautifully, though if it was release he was determined for it not to be so soon.  His efforts intensified but there was a shift underneath him.  Strong arms pulled him by the hips until they were aligned completely opposite and Ezio fumbled to free Leonardo from his trousers.

Suddenly there was a mouth on him.  Warm and wet and wonderful and sucking with abandon. Leonardo paused to savor it, wishing he could take the time to see that mouth, that scar, stretched around his cock.

But he had other duties in which he had been remiss.

His finger moistened, Leonardo probed as he worked the cock in his mouth.  First one knuckle, then up to the second.  He explored further, thrusting this way and that, and this very nearly proved to be his undoing as Ezio‘s moan piped itself straight up his spine. 

There was a twitch and a tell tale tightening and Leonardo refused to slow down. The thighs to either side of him trembled and Ezio came, thrusting madly even as he tried to suckle through his own abortive breaths. 

The taste was bitter and salt and Leonardo made sure this too was clean.

Ezio came back down to earth, reawakening to take Leonardo’s cock once more.  His work was sloppy but enthusiastic, with more than a hint of delicious roughness that had Leonardo to the edge in a hurry.  He took Leonardo as deeply as he could manage and the hum of contentment was what did Leonardo in. Pulse after pulse and Ezio took it, took it all, until Leonardo had nothing left to give.

Leonardo felt like an old man, sore knees and elbows making themselves known as he collapsed atop the wonderful man beneath him.  Ezio shifted with him, delivering a final kiss to exchange flavors before the sated pair was asleep where they lay, too satisfied to notice the cool wooden floor.

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The song mentioned is Quant de vous seul  by Johannes Ockeghem

You can hear it here.  http://www.mignarda.com/cds/fortuna/clips/03.mp3

 

 

Comments

[divinebird.livejournal.com]

ENCHANTED. THAT IS HOW I FEEL.

Excuse me, I need to reread this. To uh, look for errors. Yeah. That.

This is already the best birthday EVER. <3333

[alexb49.livejournal.com]

LOL. I'm again still pleased you liked it. The whole story sort of rolled out in a hurry but it all seemed to fit as well as hit most of your buttons, I think.

[sadie-i-bouchat.livejournal.com]

Absolutely wonderful. We spoke previously before I had an account. I'm extremely new to AC and stumbled upon your LJ. I started an account hoping to get back into writing, but it may be awhile before I sort through the bunnies and get anything going.

[alexb49.livejournal.com]

Thanks and welcome! The fandom is awesome and you should totally get writing.

[gracedemon.livejournal.com]

I have to say I love young Ezio. Or at least Ezio before being transformed into a sexy dark assassin.
I also always enjoy the Italian, copy and pasteing into Google translator included :) adds a really authentic flare.
And as always, I love your writing style! :D

[alexb49.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much for taking the time to comment and for the kind words. I have a soft spot for this story. Ezio needed more good memories before the events that change everything.

[bigcutesmile.livejournal.com]

I've stumbled upon your LJ thanks to the Creedslash comm and I've read all 4 chapters in one go (and I'll promptly go read the fifth after this~) and I have to say, this was more than enjoyable.

You write extremely well and Leonardo's POV as well as young Ezio is the best way after my heart. The budding relationship between the two has an intimacy that sometimes lack in fic. I'm a sucker for slow-paced romance. Sure, there's smut, but I didn't feel it was senseless. No, it leans more towards testing and discovering the boundaries to how they can - and do - feel when together. Also, you tackled the sodomy issue which I'm most grateful for-- and kinda surprised too. It's rarely mentioned (or at least, in what I've read) so it's really pleasing to find little details that root the historical setting into the story.

Oh! On a side-note, I have no idea of your knowledge in French but if it interests you in any way, I think the correct traduction of the lyric would be "When of you only I lose sight"
Hell, it's old French so the meaning could be different. I tried listening to the song to understand the rest of the lyrics (did a lil' bit of research as well thanks to Google; the lyrics don't match exactly to the poem it was inspired by) and let's just say it wasn't very conclusive

*cough* I'm quite the chatter-box so hum, this was a great read and I'm eager for more :D
Seriously, good job! /goes to read chapter 5

[alexb49.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked it. There's so little Da Vinci writes of his personal life that the snippet he wrote in real life that's used here is telling.

Thank you for the translation suggestion. I'm never sure whether to simply go with literal translation or a translation that better conveys what is meant in the original. (edited to say- better conveys what I think is meant by the original)

I hope you like the other chapter. I have a lot more sketched out. I don't wish to fish for comments but feedback like yours is very important to me. This story out of all of my others garners the least viewership, and with how much work goes into it, it's sort of been relegated to the back of the queue until I get more time. I hope to get more out soon!

[noelburgundy.livejournal.com]

You seem to have a good background on Italy. You did your homework? Or is it a family thing?

[alexb49.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much for the kind words! I've been to Italy and I also research like a mofo. I'm glad you like it! This series is pretty labor intensive so it sits on the back burner until I get mroe time.