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Paradisa, unknown
God knows how he gets himself into these situations, Ezio thinks.
That is a relatively common thought for him, in all honesty. Often he finds himself flirting with some girl and shortly after find himself again with his fingers sliding inside that very same girl, or he'll find himself meeting a woman in the market and then shortly after find himself again getting pushed into the hay-stuffed mattress of her bedroom, while her husband works in the fields. When one has a way with women, one often finds oneself in these kinds of positions.
That, however, would not explain this very moment. It isn't that it's about a woman having her way with him –– that, too is common. Nor is it that he isn't responsible for getting himself here, because he is.
What's inexplicable, to him, is that the woman in question is Lucrezia Borgia, and that he's giving her a lesson.
"What do I do now, then?" Lucrezia asks. Her hand is wrapped around his erect cock and shifting up and down just slightly, as if eager to be doing something, and he is almost as eager to lean into that touch. It's not uncommon for Ezio to find himself eager with his pants down and a woman between his legs, but Lucrezia is another matter entirely. Lucrezia is forbidden, in so many ways, he is crossing lines.
Ezio grins, placing his own hand over hers and gently directing her hand to pump up and down. Her cheeks are already flushed, and with his free hand on her cheek, he captures her mouth in a brief kiss.
"Grip it firmly. Not too tight, but tight enough," he says, when their lips part, and she nods, lowering her eyes to his cock for a moment. When they lift again, her eyes meet his with a confidence he hadn't expected, and he finds himself more than a little intrigued.
And, even more unexpected, the movement of her hand and the sureness of her grip is skilled enough to get a bit of a gasp out of him. Her hand moves a little too knowledgeably for a first-timer, he thinks, and he lets go of her hand to let her do it herself.
"Like this, Florentine?" she asks, her voice growing a little husky.
"Like that," he replies, that free hand curling into the sheets. "You said you had never done this before?"
She's quiet for a moment, and then smiles coyly, leaning so close to him that her shoulder brushes his. If she were any closer, she'd be in his lap entirely.
"I have heard that all men prefer virgins," she says.
Ezio chuckles, the end of it turning into a breathy hiss, and tells her, "I won't tell. But truth be told, dolcezza, no man would refuse a woman, virgin or not, once he knew he could bed her. Such things only matter for appearances, and by this point -- ah -- they have already been made."
She smiles, moving her hand a little faster, and to his surprise she pushes him to lay on his back. He settles leaning back on his elbows instead, content to watch her, and here is where his mind is reduced to nothing but pleasant thoughts about her, about the touch of her hand and the way she almost straddles his knees to be close to him. There's a flush of pink around her cheeks, and her breathing is noticeably faster. Despite his resolution to stay relatively put together for this "lesson", he can't help but let out a bit of a groan, lifting his hips to meet her hand.
"Do you want to bed me, then?" Lucrezia asks. "Even when so many would punish you for it?"
Ezio figures he's already past the point of logic, with the Borgia princess' hand around his cock and his own hands itching to be all over her. Lucrezia just searches his face, perhaps looking for his answer, and Ezio figures his face might say it before his mouth can. After a moment of shuffling to get comfortable, she slides up alongside him in bed, until their faces are nearly together, and only then does he dare utter "I won't tell if you won't."
She presses a kiss to his mouth, and he relishes it for that moment, breathing in sharply through his nose and trying to split his attentions equally between that and her hand on his cock, which is growing maddeningly slower by the moment.
"What is it like," she asks, when they break off the kiss, "to be made to beg?"
Her hand runs one long last stroke before resting at the base, and Ezio tenses comfortably, almost biting the inside of his cheek.
"You are far from a virgin," he says, half-amused and half-restless. "You're growing wicked."
When he makes eye-contact with her, though, he isn't so sure he is joking when he says it -- she is watching him with a look that is filled with both curiosity and a strange, growing awareness. She strokes him again, once and then twice, and then takes her hand off him entirely. She doesn't blink, holding his gaze with her mouth drawn into a determined line.
"Dolcezza, don't stop," he tells her, wanting to pull her back to him.
"My fair Florentine," Lucrezia says, finally, running her knuckles across the contour of his jaw. "I am still your student. You may have my hand when you answer my question."
Ezio chuckles as he winds his fingers into the duvet. "To beg, hmm? That is a matter of personal taste, but I think much of it has to do with..." He trails for a moment. He eyes her hand on his thigh, slowly drifting back towards his groin. "Anticipation. One only begs if they anticipate the result upon success..."
"That seems simple enough," Lucrezia replies. She shifts, just enough that her breasts heave and he can see the blush of her nipples over the neckline of her dress, under that thin layer of chemise, and he can't help but make a pleased noise under his breath. She is too busy to notice, of course, as she lowers herself until her mouth is just above his cock.
"Show me what you know, then," he says.
Her hand winds around the base of his cock, and she smirks at him before her lips touch the head. Her breath on his skin is almost as enticing as her mouth.
Ezio can't help but think this is the best kind of lesson there could be.
God knows how he gets himself into these situations, Ezio thinks.
That is a relatively common thought for him, in all honesty. Often he finds himself flirting with some girl and shortly after find himself again with his fingers sliding inside that very same girl, or he'll find himself meeting a woman in the market and then shortly after find himself again getting pushed into the hay-stuffed mattress of her bedroom, while her husband works in the fields. When one has a way with women, one often finds oneself in these kinds of positions.
That, however, would not explain this very moment. It isn't that it's about a woman having her way with him –– that, too is common. Nor is it that he isn't responsible for getting himself here, because he is.
What's inexplicable, to him, is that the woman in question is Lucrezia Borgia, and that he's giving her a lesson.
"What do I do now, then?" Lucrezia asks. Her hand is wrapped around his erect cock and shifting up and down just slightly, as if eager to be doing something, and he is almost as eager to lean into that touch. It's not uncommon for Ezio to find himself eager with his pants down and a woman between his legs, but Lucrezia is another matter entirely. Lucrezia is forbidden, in so many ways, he is crossing lines.
Ezio grins, placing his own hand over hers and gently directing her hand to pump up and down. Her cheeks are already flushed, and with his free hand on her cheek, he captures her mouth in a brief kiss.
"Grip it firmly. Not too tight, but tight enough," he says, when their lips part, and she nods, lowering her eyes to his cock for a moment. When they lift again, her eyes meet his with a confidence he hadn't expected, and he finds himself more than a little intrigued.
And, even more unexpected, the movement of her hand and the sureness of her grip is skilled enough to get a bit of a gasp out of him. Her hand moves a little too knowledgeably for a first-timer, he thinks, and he lets go of her hand to let her do it herself.
"Like this, Florentine?" she asks, her voice growing a little husky.
"Like that," he replies, that free hand curling into the sheets. "You said you had never done this before?"
She's quiet for a moment, and then smiles coyly, leaning so close to him that her shoulder brushes his. If she were any closer, she'd be in his lap entirely.
"I have heard that all men prefer virgins," she says.
Ezio chuckles, the end of it turning into a breathy hiss, and tells her, "I won't tell. But truth be told, dolcezza, no man would refuse a woman, virgin or not, once he knew he could bed her. Such things only matter for appearances, and by this point -- ah -- they have already been made."
She smiles, moving her hand a little faster, and to his surprise she pushes him to lay on his back. He settles leaning back on his elbows instead, content to watch her, and here is where his mind is reduced to nothing but pleasant thoughts about her, about the touch of her hand and the way she almost straddles his knees to be close to him. There's a flush of pink around her cheeks, and her breathing is noticeably faster. Despite his resolution to stay relatively put together for this "lesson", he can't help but let out a bit of a groan, lifting his hips to meet her hand.
"Do you want to bed me, then?" Lucrezia asks. "Even when so many would punish you for it?"
Ezio figures he's already past the point of logic, with the Borgia princess' hand around his cock and his own hands itching to be all over her. Lucrezia just searches his face, perhaps looking for his answer, and Ezio figures his face might say it before his mouth can. After a moment of shuffling to get comfortable, she slides up alongside him in bed, until their faces are nearly together, and only then does he dare utter "I won't tell if you won't."
She presses a kiss to his mouth, and he relishes it for that moment, breathing in sharply through his nose and trying to split his attentions equally between that and her hand on his cock, which is growing maddeningly slower by the moment.
"What is it like," she asks, when they break off the kiss, "to be made to beg?"
Her hand runs one long last stroke before resting at the base, and Ezio tenses comfortably, almost biting the inside of his cheek.
"You are far from a virgin," he says, half-amused and half-restless. "You're growing wicked."
When he makes eye-contact with her, though, he isn't so sure he is joking when he says it -- she is watching him with a look that is filled with both curiosity and a strange, growing awareness. She strokes him again, once and then twice, and then takes her hand off him entirely. She doesn't blink, holding his gaze with her mouth drawn into a determined line.
"Dolcezza, don't stop," he tells her, wanting to pull her back to him.
"My fair Florentine," Lucrezia says, finally, running her knuckles across the contour of his jaw. "I am still your student. You may have my hand when you answer my question."
Ezio chuckles as he winds his fingers into the duvet. "To beg, hmm? That is a matter of personal taste, but I think much of it has to do with..." He trails for a moment. He eyes her hand on his thigh, slowly drifting back towards his groin. "Anticipation. One only begs if they anticipate the result upon success..."
"That seems simple enough," Lucrezia replies. She shifts, just enough that her breasts heave and he can see the blush of her nipples over the neckline of her dress, under that thin layer of chemise, and he can't help but make a pleased noise under his breath. She is too busy to notice, of course, as she lowers herself until her mouth is just above his cock.
"Show me what you know, then," he says.
Her hand winds around the base of his cock, and she smirks at him before her lips touch the head. Her breath on his skin is almost as enticing as her mouth.
Ezio can't help but think this is the best kind of lesson there could be.