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Paradisa, year 7.
It's after sex that Ezio has his quiet moments. After the banter and the touching and the post-coital bliss is winding down, when he has someone in his arms and they're snuggled up close, he has the peace and clarity of mind to consider where he is in life and where he intends to go from there.
It's plenty sick, he considers, to finish a hard day of assassinating people with a few orgasms and call that relaxing, but it's true enough for him. When you spend so much time killing and planning and preparing and fighting, you get a little lonely, even if all that time is spent in the company of others. There's little tenderness in plotting a man's death, no love in breaking a man's arms or driving his face into the cobblestones. At least he gets those things in the arms of a woman, amongst other things. Rosa was good for him, for a long time. She brought a lot of levity to the job, gave him someone to come home to consistently. It was nice, for those years, to have a little bit of stability. Ezio genuinely enjoyed his time with the Venetian thieves, much more than he enjoyed being a mostly-solo agent in Florence.
But here in Paradisa, he's missing the harder and more draining aspect of his life, and all he has left is women and a lot of emptiness.
Katherine is stretched out along him, half-asleep, her breasts up against his side and her head on his shoulder. She's idly running her fingers along his abs, and his cock twitches when her hand drifts lower on his abdomen. He lets out a long breath, too tired to get up and clean himself up, but he's not sure why he's so tired. He didn't exactly do anything all day but have sex with her, so by all means, he should be bounding with energy… but he isn't.
"Mia cara?" Ezio murmurs, quietly. Katherine shifts, tilting her chin to look up at him. He brushes her dark hair from her face with his fingertips, gently. Immortality has given her this strange doe-eyed look, the softness of her features betraying the centuries of experiences under her skin.
"Hmm?" she replies, long lashes a-fluttering. Her hand is distracting. "Ready to go again?"
"No," he admits, closing his eyes. "I hate to say it, but I think I am done for the night."
She stops touching him, slowly, and a brief moment later he feels the press of her lips against his neck.
"Get me off one last time, then," she says, after a moment, and it's the most politely-toned demand Ezio has ever heard in his life –– who could decline? Katherine shifts in his arms, rolling so that her back is against his chest, and she takes him by the wrist and directs his hand to her clit. Her fingers curl over his, directing him to exactly to what she wants, and Ezio doesn't need any cues from then on.
Within a few moments, Ezio has her trembling in his arms, with one hand on her clit and the other arm firmly clamped around her chest to keep her in place. She clings tightly to that arm. She struggles against him, but only enough to test his grip, and so close, he can hear every hard breath and every gasp. Every struggle means her ass grinds against his cock, tempting him to push things further, but he's too tired to get it up, no matter how much he might try. Eventually, he settles just for rolling her over onto her belly and pinning her down with his own body weight, hand still determinedly stimulating her. It doesn't take too long to feel his hand grow slick with her wetness, and by time he brings her to orgasm, she's practically screaming into the pillow.
At least he's still useful for that, if not for assassinations and politics.
It's after sex that Ezio has his quiet moments. After the banter and the touching and the post-coital bliss is winding down, when he has someone in his arms and they're snuggled up close, he has the peace and clarity of mind to consider where he is in life and where he intends to go from there.
It's plenty sick, he considers, to finish a hard day of assassinating people with a few orgasms and call that relaxing, but it's true enough for him. When you spend so much time killing and planning and preparing and fighting, you get a little lonely, even if all that time is spent in the company of others. There's little tenderness in plotting a man's death, no love in breaking a man's arms or driving his face into the cobblestones. At least he gets those things in the arms of a woman, amongst other things. Rosa was good for him, for a long time. She brought a lot of levity to the job, gave him someone to come home to consistently. It was nice, for those years, to have a little bit of stability. Ezio genuinely enjoyed his time with the Venetian thieves, much more than he enjoyed being a mostly-solo agent in Florence.
But here in Paradisa, he's missing the harder and more draining aspect of his life, and all he has left is women and a lot of emptiness.
Katherine is stretched out along him, half-asleep, her breasts up against his side and her head on his shoulder. She's idly running her fingers along his abs, and his cock twitches when her hand drifts lower on his abdomen. He lets out a long breath, too tired to get up and clean himself up, but he's not sure why he's so tired. He didn't exactly do anything all day but have sex with her, so by all means, he should be bounding with energy… but he isn't.
"Mia cara?" Ezio murmurs, quietly. Katherine shifts, tilting her chin to look up at him. He brushes her dark hair from her face with his fingertips, gently. Immortality has given her this strange doe-eyed look, the softness of her features betraying the centuries of experiences under her skin.
"Hmm?" she replies, long lashes a-fluttering. Her hand is distracting. "Ready to go again?"
"No," he admits, closing his eyes. "I hate to say it, but I think I am done for the night."
She stops touching him, slowly, and a brief moment later he feels the press of her lips against his neck.
"Get me off one last time, then," she says, after a moment, and it's the most politely-toned demand Ezio has ever heard in his life –– who could decline? Katherine shifts in his arms, rolling so that her back is against his chest, and she takes him by the wrist and directs his hand to her clit. Her fingers curl over his, directing him to exactly to what she wants, and Ezio doesn't need any cues from then on.
Within a few moments, Ezio has her trembling in his arms, with one hand on her clit and the other arm firmly clamped around her chest to keep her in place. She clings tightly to that arm. She struggles against him, but only enough to test his grip, and so close, he can hear every hard breath and every gasp. Every struggle means her ass grinds against his cock, tempting him to push things further, but he's too tired to get it up, no matter how much he might try. Eventually, he settles just for rolling her over onto her belly and pinning her down with his own body weight, hand still determinedly stimulating her. It doesn't take too long to feel his hand grow slick with her wetness, and by time he brings her to orgasm, she's practically screaming into the pillow.
At least he's still useful for that, if not for assassinations and politics.