Prologue
There was little sentimentality to it, but there was certainly what one could call fascination.
Something frightening dwelt within Cesare's eyes, some sort of manic tension that rarely subsided, but his oft-present ill humor flickered and faded when his fingers were tangled in messy blond hair and his cock buried in his Captain's mouth.
Regardless of the fact that they communicated only in Latin, their conversations were often engaging and sometimes heated, and usually, when they had time to speak at length, the evening would end in Cesare's large bed, two bodies sweaty, entangled and immersed in heat and stifling musk.
-
I.
Sibrand nudged his metal helm along the stone floor with his foot. It was miserably hot in the tower and the windows were nowhere near large enough to let in the cool breeze.
The sky, or what little he could see of it through the narrow holes in the walls, was very blue; his stilted view of the city below was grey-brown and mottled. Brightly-colored people milled around the storefronts and the faintest clacking of hooves on cobblestones was audible over the chatter of the pedestrians.
It was still unfamiliar, still strange to his eyes, and the language was still strange to his ears; though he comprehended it somewhat, it was difficult for him to speak. He relied on Latin to speak to Cesare, and on his limited knowledge of the vulgar to communicate with the servants, generally to tell them vai via.
In the time since he had come to in Castel Sant'Angelo, he had pieced together small segments of his arrival in Roma. He had arrived at an inn, exhausted and filthy and carrying no useful currency; the inn-keeper had laughed at his purse full of bronze and told him in weak, awkward Latin that he should take his coins to a tinker who might have some use for them.
He had not reached the tinker; instead, upon entering the city and attempting to communicate with anyone who would listen, he had been accosted by six city guards dressed in red who called him Assassino, took his weapons from him, and beat him into submission.
From there, he could only assume that he'd been taken to the castello and shackled to the wall, where he'd come to at Cesare's feet.
It had been a bewildering year since then, with time passing alternately blindingly quickly and treacherously slowly. He now worked for Cesare as a Captain of the guard, and in a year's time, he had come to enjoy the city.
Even the looming threat of attack by the Assassin Order seemed less important. He was well-guarded now, with little distance to cross between his post and the tower in which he could find safety should his forces come under attack.
That was exactly what had ended him up in the hot still air of the tower this particular afternoon: the cry of Assassino! had met his ears and he had been shuffled away to the tower for safekeeping.
He was only glad that the sun would soon be setting. It had been weeks since last he had traveled to Vatican City and he was due to meet with the General tonight.
-
II.
Cesare slid his fingers along the red marble of the bath in his chambers, resting his head on a plush cushion and closing his eyes. He had arrived in Roma only an hour or so before; his thighs ached from the saddle and his hands smelled of gunpowder until he submerged them in the perfumed bathwater.
A strange sort of excitement rippled through him as his thoughts lit upon the evening's meeting with his Captain; it had been some time since they had seen each other and he missed the feeling of Sibrand's hands and tongue.
He shivered despite the heat of the bath, fully ready to enjoy the rendezvous ahead.
The siege had gone mostly as planned, and what little issue had arisen had been more or less expected; the sight of blossoming red on the Assassin's white tunic as he fell from the roof almost in slow-motion had been well worth any trouble.
After a few blissful silent moments he removed himself from the bath. His linen towel had been warmed and freshly-laundered clothes had been set out for him, tan leather hose worn to a state of perfect comfort and a soft red linen tunic.
He stepped into the hose and pulled them up over his slim hips, then tied the lacings; he watched his fingers work in the mirror and then looked up into his own eyes, steely blue reflected in the clean glass, and smiled slowly. He ran slim fingers through his hair and let it fall to its original state; wisps of brown hair feathered at the ends brushed against his jaw as he stared into the mirror.
His hand found its way to the elaborately sculpted floral frame as the door opened; he glanced toward it and frowned. "Cosa c'è, ragazzo?"
The serving boy stepped into the room, brushing stray strands of long wavy hair from his eyes; he looked at his master for a moment before his ears reddened and he had to look away, gritting his teeth and taking a shaky breath. "Arriva il capitano, Maestro," he said finally, shuffling his foot on the floor.
Cesare nodded. "Molto bene. Portarlo alle mie stanze."
"Sì, Signore, molto bene. Avete bisogno di qualcos'altra?" asked the servant, finally looking up at Cesare with his best attempt at a smile.
"No, grazie," said Cesare, and the servant bowed out of the room, leaving him once again in solitary peace.
He would have to have dinner sent up. They had both traveled to arrive here and it would hardly do for either of them to be hungry.
-
III.
By the time Cesare arrived in the large bedroom, Sibrand was seated on the bed. He had been relieved of his boots and held his elaborate helm in his lap. A small table had been brought in and their meal set out on it; two full goblets of wine sat amongst the food.
Sibrand looked up at the General. "You look well, Master," he said and bowed his head respectfully.
"And you look tired." Cesare crossed the room and sat at Sibrand's side. "Tell me: how was your journey?"
The Captain chuckled. "Short, in comparison with your own." He smiled and set his helmet down on the floor, then handed Cesare a wine glass. "I trust your mission went as planned?"
Cesare smiled and took the glass. "Precisely as planned," he confirmed, and clinked his glass against Sibrand's, then took a long sip of blood-red wine.
"That's good to hear," Sibrand said, looking down into the dark liquid. "I will admit that I was concerned."
"Ha... you needn't worry for my sake, Sibrand."
-
IV.
The wine was strong.
Cesare shuddered as Sibrand's rough hands slid up under his tunic and around his waist, and he allowed himself to be lowered to his back as the other man's lips claimed the base of his neck, sucking and kissing. He grasped the back of Sibrand's neck and grunted against his ear, curling his fingers in his hair as teeth sank into his skin. "Ah..."
Sibrand pulled back and pushed Cesare's shirt up, baring his chest so that he could swirl his tongue over an erect pink nipple. "Master, I am at your service," he breathed, raising goosebumps on Cesare's skin, and Cesare laughed.
"Make yourself useful, then," he said, tugging on Sibrand's hair. "Relieve me of my garments."
"As you wish," said Sibrand with a gentle laugh, unlacing the neck of Cesare's tunic and helping him out of it before once again lowering his mouth to kiss and bite along the younger man's collarbones, eliciting quiet gasps; Cesare took Sibrand's hand and placed it at the ties of his leather hose and Sibrand shivered, momentarily palming the growing bulge beneath and relishing the soft groan that followed.
Cesare combed his fingers through Sibrand's hair and finally yanked his head backward to look him in the eyes, and Sibrand's eyelashes fluttered for a moment as he let out a shaky breath.
"Do you have anything in mind for this evening, Master?" he asked, his voice husky and low as he slowly untied the laces of Cesare's hose.
With a quiet chuckle, Cesare tightened his fingers in Sibrand's hair. "No, I am not set on anything," he purred. "Why?"
Sibrand shivered. "I believe I could do something that you would enjoy," he said. "That is, if you will allow me-"
"Allow you what, exactly?" asked Cesare, his tone taking on an icy edge as Sibrand's fingers pulled at his clothing; he tipped Sibrand's head up so that their eyes met. "I do not wish to submit to you, if that is what you had in mind."
"Not at all," Sibrand assured him. "I would not attempt to dominate you."
Cesare nodded. "Very good. You may continue," he said, and watched as Sibrand moved lower, his body between strong legs and the heat of his breath flowing over his abdominal muscles.
He slid his hands up the curves of Cesare's lower back and let his fingers dip into the furrow between taut muscles and graze over the ridges and grooves of his spine as he dragged his palms downward; he pulled Cesare's worn hose down to his thighs and shivered at the commingled smell of musk and warmed leather. "Cesare," he breathed, and the younger man's fingers tightened in his hair until he hissed through his teeth in pain.
The grip loosened and Sibrand leaned down to slide his tongue tongue along the length of Cesare's hardening cock, enveloping it in the heat of his mouth and eliciting a low groan that went straight to his own aching erection; with a wet sound he pulled off and his breath came in harsh pants as he grabbed a thick plush pillow from the head of the bed and shoved it under Cesare's arching hips, earning him a growl and a tightened grip in his hair.
"Don't toy with me, Sibrand," Cesare hissed, and Sibrand bowed his head to kiss Cesare's inner thigh.
"Master, I have promised," Sibrand murmured against the tender skin near the apex of Cesare's legs. "Unless you want to ruin the surprise."
Cesare shuddered as Sibrand's lips grazed over his balls and that wicked tongue caressed them, and his fingers went slack in Sibrand's blond hair; he braced his heels on the bed on either side of the older man's broad shoulders and grasped at the thick bedclothes. "Yes," he gasped. "Very well, Sibrand..."
Sibrand leaned nearer, taking Cesare's balls in his mouth and relishing the low moan that followed; the hot weight of the General's cock rested against his temple and he was certain he could hear his heartbeat.
He pulled back and pressed his tongue against the sensitive skin of Cesare's perineum and waited until he had stopped writhing before pulling his hips closer until just the tip of his tongue slid past the tight barrier of muscle; Cesare groaned and put a hand at the back of Sibrand's head to pull him in further and Sibrand could hardly contain a laugh at his eagerness.
It pleased Cesare to watch Sibrand between his legs, to feel his tongue sliding against such sensitive areas; he lifted himself up onto his elbows and watched Sibrand's brown eyelashes beating against his cheeks as he blinked, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Cesare moaned softly as Sibrand's tongue moved inside him, curling and lapping, and hot wet breath flowed over his balls and the base of his thighs; he reached down to wrap his hand around his cock and noted with some amusement that Sibrand was rubbing himself through his tight garments.
He nudged him onto his side with a foot and groaned at the sight of a darkened patch of wetness spreading on the leather beneath his palm. "Hands off, Meister Sibrand," he purred, and Sibrand groaned against his skin, sending shivers down his spine, and wrapped his muscular arms around his hips. "That's- ah..." Cesare gasped as Sibrand's tongue slid deeper and shuddered at the scraping of the other man's fingernails over the muscles of his back.
Sibrand shivered, sliding his tongue once again along the tender skin of Cesare's perineum and chuckling as the younger man clawed at the back of his head, tangling his shaggy hair. "Does it please you, Master?" he murmured, pushing Cesare's hand out of the way so that he could drag the tip of his tongue along the pulsing blue vein along the underside of his cock and lick away the drop of fluid that slid down the shaft.
"Sì," Cesare murmured, and his breath caught in his throat as Sibrand's lips teased at the very edge of his foreskin and gently tugged, then moved to his torso; the Captain mouthed along the curves of taut muscle, and a low growl rumbled in Cesare's throat as he curled his fingers tightly in Sibrand's hair. "Continue, Sibrand!"
It was a direct order.
Sibrand grunted and returned to his position between Cesare's legs; he pushed his tight hose down to his thighs and groaned aloud at the release of painful pressure on his erection. Still Cesare's fingers pulled his hair, reminding him of his station as he licked and kissed soft sensitive skin and elicited pleasurable sighs; he wrapped his hand around Cesare's cock and stroked him as he pressed his tongue deeper, against places that made the younger man buck and gasp and writhe.
"Ah- Sibrand, I..." Cesare gripped the covers just as tightly as his Captain's hair, and his back arched involuntarily as Sibrand's tongue curled deeper inside him. "Ohh... madre di Dio..."
It wouldn't be long now, now; Sibrand shuddered and continued his efforts, relishing every quiet cry stifled by teeth on edge, every hitch of harsh breath, every quick shudder of his pulse in the thick veins of his cock.
He groaned, writhing against the bedsheets as Cesare's hips jerked and finally he came, muffling a rough moan against his shoulder; Sibrand pulled back to pant roughly, against the resistance of Cesare's death grip on his hair which relaxed finally, mercifully.
"Mein Gott," Sibrand choked, propping himself up on an elbow and taking his erection in a shaking right hand; he ached with neglected arousal and it almost hurt to stroke himself, but it hurt more not to.
Cesare shuddered. "S-Sibrand, come here, I'll, ah..." He pushed the pillow out from under his hips and sat up, and the slight lingering wetness inside him made him squirm.
Sibrand pushed himself up to his knees and pressed his sweat-slick forehead against Cesare's shoulder, allowing him to reach down and pump him eagerly. "Ja, Cesare!" he groaned, curling his fingers at the other man's waist as his abdomen twitched and writhed; before long he was bucking, spilling halting breath over Cesare's chest as he came with a few quiet, strained cries. "Ah! Oh..."
With a quiet laugh, Cesare gripped at Sibrand's side. "I assume you're alright," he murmured.
"J-ja," Sibrand stuttered as his breathing slowed. "Ohh."
"Very well." Cesare picked up a napkin from the table and wiped his hand on it, then took up a wine goblet. "What could possibly have possessed you to do such a thing?" he asked, offering the glass to the older man, who took it gratefully and drank from it.
Sibrand wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he swallowed. "I was told you were bathing," he said with a wicked smile. "I thought I would take advantage of this."
Cesare chuckled. "I see."
-
V.
Sibrand woke to the golden hues of late morning sun pouring in through the window beside the bed; he covered his face with a heavy, muscular arm, groaning in displeasure at the bright light, and his body tensed in surprise as he heard laughter behind him.
"You have not left yet?" he asked, his voice muffled against the pillows.
"No," Cesare replied, sitting up and leaning over Sibrand; a smile ghosted over his face and he combed his fingers through the older man's hair. "I have much to do in the coming months and I'm uncertain as to when I'll see you next."
Sibrand laughed, and he knew that if he said what was on his mind, he would be made not to forget it. He closed his eyes and took a sharp breath as Cesare's fingers once again tangled in his hair; his scalp ached from the previous night's abuse and the pain trickled down his spine to pool in his groin as the initial tingle of arousal.
He looked up into Cesare's eyes and the corner of his lips lifted in a smirk. "How romantic of you."