Cheap Drapery Fabric For Wedding Venue

[Fic] Maschera (EzioxLeo, Assassin's Creeed II, NC-17)

Title: Maschera
Author : berylia
Fandom : Assassin's Creed
Couple : Unknown x Leonardo da Vinci but also Ezio x Leo and keys Leo x Salai
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Nothing is true, everything is permitted, however, but I says I do not own anything and everything belongs to Ubisoft.
Blabla the author: I had a little trouble but I have overcome FNAL and I'm not unhappy at all with the result. I tried to make this fiction the most historically correct as possible because that is something terribly lacking in all those I have read so far that treated the taste of Leonardo da Vinci for male bodies with an eye very very nineteenth. Anyway, happy reading.



hands are calloused and rough against her bare skin. He has no time to wonder why he has torn his shirt that he already feels a cruel mouth to bite on the shoulder, brutally, viciously, to the blood. He groaned. Fun. Pain. Shame perhaps? Calli scratch the tender skin of her stomach starting to loose needles and breeches. A shame he moaned. Like a cat in heat, like a woman. But too late, the cry has already gone and the body against hers growls his agreement while thick fingers take hold of his prick half erected. This time he moans and arches her hips, swinging his hindquarters like a horse looking for the standard. We go down his hose, the cold air whipping his butt.

The days were been long and arduous. Any nervousness, no work could hold his attention for over an hour, he sent one of his own finished paintings at the head of one of its customers in a hurry ... Apprentices and servants were carefully avoided. There was even called a doctor for fear that a stroke does not imply there maestro. But the purges and poultices can not treat him and he refused to be bled, it was a stupid practice that emptied of any creative energy. No, he needed to remove the excess in another way and he knew exactly how
And there was ... the whole problem. He knew the remedy and could not access it, or rather the refusal. Because the remedy was the very evil that haunted him. The evil that visited him in his rare moments of sleep and in his every thought. His body, his soul was subject to temptation and he could not free himself. A guilty desire lashed his bowels, flooded his mind, stopped his arm at work. He wanted.
was ridiculous. He had spent his manhood away from the temptations of the flesh, he had laughed at his rivals who, like Michelangelo were trapped in their vices and allowed themselves to govern the flesh and not spirit, he had triumphed ... and suddenly his whole being collapsed, trembling, warming up as a boy discovering his body. His eyes betrayed him. They sought more beauty, but only the flesh, they moved away to caress the body faces with bulging muscles, powerful legs molded into the hose, the bulging codpiece ...
course, that devil Salai noted his confusion. He had come to him, his angelic face pale, his eyes downcast, his mouth if he had to bite red. He had sought advice on his sketches, was bent back, leaning over the table, buttocks raised. Without doubt the rascal had not yet managed to discover where he had hidden her purse and he was short of money. He had returned to his brushes with a pair of bellows and the promise of the beating if he does not put to work.
Neither he nor any of his apprentices did what he needed this time.

A hand landed on his back and keeps leaning while the other slid between her buttocks, passing by scratching against his anus before descending to its motion scholarships it brutally, squeezing with just enough grip for him hurt the environment fun. He puts his hands flat against the wall and straddling grunt, wishing to give more freedom to these fingers begin to play with his penis. The other hand left her back to crush his buttocks. Thumb finds its way and begins to penetrate. He groaned. Pain. Excitation. So long ago. He knows it hurts, he cares, he wants to. Burning, tearing, degradation, and pleasure. He wants them now! The more hollow
hips and starts to move, responding to this thumb playing with him. A laugh shook the other's body. His weight is on him and fingers to cram into his mouth. It smells of sweat, cum, leather, metal. His desire to live fights between her thighs. It covers the fingers with saliva and feels regret leaving his mouth. He likes his smell, the fact that musk moan. Fingers penetrate. A cry of pain escaped him, followed by a sigh of pleasure. It removes even the thighs so that the fingers and the bully he whines for more.

He considered himself a good man and honest. Of course he was a man and pushed him to sin, but he never harmed his neighbor, never killed, and if housed with him sometimes a murderer sought was because he believed in the goodness of the heart of Ezio, in the importance of his mission, and even though he condemned its methods could not convict the man and the friend.
He tried to obey the laws of man and God, even though they were sometimes ridiculous. What greater evil was there to eat meat on a Friday rather than Saturday? Strange superstitions belonging to bygone times ... when the laws of God and man were inadequate he preferred to think that in his generosity God forgive him his misdeed.
But what he wanted? No, what he needed was not a trifle, it was a mortal sin, a transgression of God's laws committed deliberately and without remorse. It was also violating the law of man. But mostly it was going against the natural order of things. For if it was natural that a man does sometimes gets diverted by the grace of a young boy by the disturbing spectacle of a body almost androgynous man but also womanhood, it was anomalous that a man, a respectable citizen, a master painter, stooping to want to open thighs as a wife for another younger man to unsavory activities and a much lower rank. What was acceptable among boys was unacceptable for a grown man.
Even if it was going against the divine and human laws, no one accused him celibacy and lack of certain women in his entourage. He left his apprentices and they pretended not to notice the ancillary activities of your lazy Salai. But if he came to know that the maestro was da Vinci task as the vilest of whores port would become the laughingstock of his peers, superiors and inferiors. He never doubted that a charge eventually reach the governor's palace and this time no one save for what is to forgive a boy barely known we do not forgive a fashionable painter. What client would defend a man whose every swineherd to the most boorish could laugh?
He knew. And his art and his reputation thus worth more than fleeting pleasure. That was several years he had given up and was content to take what some as Salai offered him, or if the little devil he sold. But this time, nothing seemed to end his rage at the evil that tormented his every moment.
Then he surrendered. He hid his face behind a mask, and had sunk in the middle of the colorful crowd of carnival. He had found without difficulty the district dedicated to these pleasures, and especially the place where his kind were found. He turned, walking between all these anonymous men, trying to find his courage suddenly disappeared, he had advanced a thousand times to speak and declined another thousand times.
He finished the night in the hands of a youngster with rosy cheeks and smooth it was cheaper than Salai and income was still afflicted with his disease, his heart heavy with his own cowardice.

He protests when the fingers withdrew. Now push your hands towards the layer. It is almost as unhappy with solicitude, the wall was there, he could be entered more quickly. But he lets himself go. He climbs on the bed, puts his face in his arms, back and buttocks, thighs and eliminates waiting impatiently. Finally he feels the layer move under the weight of the unknown. These calloused hands who are divinely jostle on him again, grabbing her hips and shaking with desire, moving his pelvis almost against his will. He feels the tip of the saw and push against him with enthusiasm on his arms.
The pain runs like a spear. He grits his teeth, pushing more, drank the cup to the dregs. He stops and inspires length, feeling the huge penis to fill it entirely. He did not have enough time to get used to that already he moves again before impaling hips again. The other follows the movement and begins to move too, with each new thrust bruising her tender flesh. He grits his teeth and responds with energy until the pain became unbearable.

The next day, the night he was gone. He had shaved his beard and tried in vain to cheat her age. Under cover of night, alcohol may help Could still pass for a boy ...
Ridiculous is what it was. Ridiculous and grotesque. But he could not help but go back, the fire in his veins will not settle and soon the carnival would end and he would lose any chance to calm the fever which left him more. Then he returned to that place among strangers, stationing themselves against a wall far too revealing torches, waiting anxiously to be approached.
He knew what he wanted. A muscular body and strong, a man's body and not a boy. A worker with firm hands and muscles rolling under the skin as the most powerful standards. Skin hot and sometimes rough seamed. A face with strong lines, marked with a touch of manly beard. Full lips and roses but still undeniably masculine and
... He knew what he wanted, he only had to wait.
He rejected the proposals of two youths, one of which he was almost certain to have ever received in his studio with his honorable father, until finally a man comes to see him. It was more bull riding but his hands were large and covered with small scars and his mouth, only visible part of his face had a fullness and a smile that pleased him. He looked down and shook her hips slightly as he spoke an octave higher than normal. He could not remember the nonsense he had out but the man leaned toward him and asked him if he wanted to go drinking with him. He said yes.
His heart pounded in his chest at the same pace as his prick in his shoes, the path to the hostel seemed an eternity. He smiled when she was finally in sight.
But his joy was short lived. A man came out of hombre and arrested his companion. He cautiously stepped back, the conversation became more animated even if he could not hear what was said. Then suddenly, the man swore and left him alone with the unknown. He stepped back again, ready to flee abroad but with black mask fell upon him, concealing all light and kissing him breathlessly in the middle of the lane.
When the kiss ended his head was spinning and he was content to follow the stranger, his hand in his, led him to the room at the inn.

He yells. The pleasure is stronger than the pain and whenever the unknown grows again it feels to drown. His back is arched beyond the possible and he does not know how her knees do not give under him as he offers himself again and again to violent kicks, which the divine buffet. Hands on her hips dig holes in his flesh burning, so strong, holding it in place despite the violence of battering. The whole bed is shaking under the furious onslaught. The smell goes around, animal, hot, intense, heady as the best wine. He gasps and cries hoarse whenever the penis inside her caress this point of his body so sensitive. He hears the grunts in response to foreign males. This drop of sweat dripping from his lips as he receives again and again.
Strangely he does not regret not seeing the world. On her knees, eyes closed he could imagine. It can replace the hands with those he knows so well even though he has seen so little. He may think that this body strong and solid in his back is that he has so often sewed and observed by stealth. He can imagine his face twisted in the throes of pleasure, these brown eyes obscured by the desire of enjoyment, if that mouth full of teeth chewed by a bright white. He hears her voice so dear to every grunt and felt his hand down to lock onto his prick and Ezio ...
Oh!

course he knew what he wanted. He had always been honest with himself. Gnôthi Seauton Plato said, know thyself. He knew his wishes. He knew this fever he was not arrived by chance, he knew who had lit fires of desire in his heart peaceful. He knew he never would have hoped so why bother. Yes he wanted
Ezio Auditore, a man he was proud to call her friend. A man, not an example of what should be the Man in the flesh as in spirit. He had seen year after year to dedicate his life to his mission, never twist on the principles which he based his belief, his life. He had seen him sacrifice himself again and again, proudly wearing the crown of thorns was placed on his head.
He had no shame to be desired. After all he broke hearts all over Italy, what was one more. No, he could not find man more worthy of his respect and affection. That was why he had offered his friendship. All these years he had been faithful friend, always there for him and he intended to remain so because seeing Ezio was always a moment of joy, both physical and intellectual. But sometimes, as now it wanted more. Oh, what would it be given to Patroclus that Achilles, Heracles Iolas this, his friend, his second, his confidant. Alas
Ezio was younger than him and had never shown interest in anything other than its mission or friendly conversations. And his reputation preceded him, he was a man who loved women was Ezio Auditore. What would he find a bearded man with old and lacks all the trappings of youth?
Yes, he wanted Ezio, probably even liked it as unfortunate Phaon Sappho loved and never hope but his heart swollen with sorrow and joy mixed.
So tonight, in the arms of a stranger he dreamed, never dreamed that it was he who embraced her.

His body is covered in terrible shock and fatigue fell on him. Sheets, his shoes are dirty belly but he can not really be interested to succeed, one has that delicious sense of peace that bathes her body. He raises his head with difficulty from his arm. His whole body, lying on the east side seems more languid and heavy as lead. He feels the sleep watching, but he struggles, looking to try to see through the darkness of the room the man who adjusts his shoes. His mask is still there. His was lost somewhere between the alley and the house, but he could worry less. The distant moon only succeeded in throwing a little light in the room and face the unknown remains in the shadows.
"Grazie," he said. "
The unknown continues to dress and leans toward him. His face is close to his and the pale light draws a scar on the mouth kisses. Without doubt this is a dream, the moon is misleading, but he wants to be convinced and surrenders to sleep and kiss Ezio.