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Forlì, 1489
For the most part, Caterina commands all in bed: when she will be taken, how it will happen, and all that she desires. As it turns out, this is exactly how Ezio enjoys it most; his pleasure never goes unconsidered, but he lives to serve. Under Caterina's command, he certainly serves.
He cannot complain about the view, either. While their first coupling required she ride him from above to avoid aggravating the still-healing stab wound on his abdomen, the position carries on without much desire for change. Ezio enjoys her full weight dropping against him, enjoys seeing her face light up with bliss and perspiration, enjoys having her hands pinning him to the bed as she fucks him. From there he has the perfect view of her reaction to an orgasm (or many) and the heave of her breasts as she bounces on his cock, the clench of her knees around his waist. Sometimes her hand curls around his throat as she commands him to thrust harder, pleasure her better. Fuck, she's so perfect.
And oh, god, then there are the days where she grows tired of bossing him around and allows him to take control, even if only for a precious moment. They are moments he relishes, first for their rarity and second for how unforgettable they are. At one point, they begin to wrestle, and after a moment of tussling he manages to push her face-first into the bed and pin her beneath him, and the more he pushes her -- push the limits of what he's allowed to do with her, how firm he can be with her -- the more she delights in it and pushes back.
"I've snared myself a tigress," he whispers in her ear, when he's pinned her on her stomach against the bed, one of his arms around her shoulders, his weight leant there. His other arm is trapped between her and the bed, his fingers already circling her clit, his cock positioned at the opening of her slit, prepared to fuck her hard.
"Just try and tame me, Assassin," she murmurs, voice almost husky with need, and she lets out a moan when he presses forward, until his hips are flush with her ass and her hands are digging into the bedding. "Try harder!" she urges him, almost at a growl, pressing back against him, and Ezio is almost relentless in his attempt to satisfy her.
Regardless, when he comes before her, she makes him finish her with his mouth, fingers threaded through his hair and forcibly trapping his face against her sex.
Truth be told, he wouldn't have it any other way.
For the most part, Caterina commands all in bed: when she will be taken, how it will happen, and all that she desires. As it turns out, this is exactly how Ezio enjoys it most; his pleasure never goes unconsidered, but he lives to serve. Under Caterina's command, he certainly serves.
He cannot complain about the view, either. While their first coupling required she ride him from above to avoid aggravating the still-healing stab wound on his abdomen, the position carries on without much desire for change. Ezio enjoys her full weight dropping against him, enjoys seeing her face light up with bliss and perspiration, enjoys having her hands pinning him to the bed as she fucks him. From there he has the perfect view of her reaction to an orgasm (or many) and the heave of her breasts as she bounces on his cock, the clench of her knees around his waist. Sometimes her hand curls around his throat as she commands him to thrust harder, pleasure her better. Fuck, she's so perfect.
And oh, god, then there are the days where she grows tired of bossing him around and allows him to take control, even if only for a precious moment. They are moments he relishes, first for their rarity and second for how unforgettable they are. At one point, they begin to wrestle, and after a moment of tussling he manages to push her face-first into the bed and pin her beneath him, and the more he pushes her -- push the limits of what he's allowed to do with her, how firm he can be with her -- the more she delights in it and pushes back.
"I've snared myself a tigress," he whispers in her ear, when he's pinned her on her stomach against the bed, one of his arms around her shoulders, his weight leant there. His other arm is trapped between her and the bed, his fingers already circling her clit, his cock positioned at the opening of her slit, prepared to fuck her hard.
"Just try and tame me, Assassin," she murmurs, voice almost husky with need, and she lets out a moan when he presses forward, until his hips are flush with her ass and her hands are digging into the bedding. "Try harder!" she urges him, almost at a growl, pressing back against him, and Ezio is almost relentless in his attempt to satisfy her.
Regardless, when he comes before her, she makes him finish her with his mouth, fingers threaded through his hair and forcibly trapping his face against her sex.
Truth be told, he wouldn't have it any other way.