After a long hiatus, I have returned. This fic was actually written over the summer as a request from my best friend, and I just forgot about it, to be honest. At any rate, this does have mature content, as well as blatant homosexuality, so get out while you can. Otherwise, enjoy.
Patience
Lorenzo loved watching Giovanni work; it was a rare treat when his personal accountant arrived at his estate to balance the books and ensure the safety of the Medici fortune. Lorenzo was not a skilled businessman and, unlike his father and grandfather before him, did not have a talent for economy. He was a politician at heart, and by necessity spent a great deal of his bank profit on lavish gifts to his friends and enemies alike. It was up to Giovanni to document the purchases and, in some instances, to convince Lorenzo to restrain himself. Once a month, he would come personally to his palazzo to finish the job, his sturdy account book beneath his arm. This occasion was no different. After a brief obeisance on one knee, he quickly set to work transforming Lorenzo's cluttered desk into a bastion of efficiency.
What set Giovanni apart from Lorenzo—among many things—was his infinite patience. How he could sit for hours at this menial task of adding and subtracting figures, Lorenzo could not conceive…but as he soon learned, it was a pleasure to observe. He could practically hear the gears turning in Giovanni's mind, all the while focused on his task even as his hands worked separately, one neatly copying numbers into his book while the other flicked the ceramic beads of Lorenzo's abacus back and forth. However, Giovanni's current occupation was not the only one to capture his imagination.
It was, perhaps, a bit morbid of Lorenzo to glean pleasure from the deaths of others, but nevertheless he could not resist the thought. At night, whilst in bed with his wife, he would often imagine Giovanni slipping through the shadows, gliding and leaping through the air to his next kill. He reminded Lorenzo of a hawk, his blade cutting through the darkness like hard-edged wings. At time, it would drive him to near madness, reaching out for the image of him sneaking to his window in the twilight hours, his hood thrown back and his piercing eyes upon him. In his most depraved dreams, Giovanni would throw Lorenzo upon the bed and ravish him there without introduction, his armor cold against his flesh. Even then, though, Giovanni was always gentle, always skillful. It was not in his nature to be cruel, and it was that quality, more than any other, that drew Lorenzo further and further into his infatuation.
"Altezza, I have finished my work." Giovanni's voice, rich and even, snapped Lorenzo back to the present. "You have once again managed to retain a profit, but only just. I advise caution in the coming months, in order to ensure a successful year." Giovanni smirked mischievously, nearly sending a shiver down Lorenzo's spine. "We both know how expensive the summer months can be."
"Si, Giovanni, grazie." Lorenzo smiled and retreated to his desk to examine the accounts. Yet again, he found them flawlessly maintained. In truth, Lorenzo had stopped checking months ago; there wasn't any need, for Giovanni's work was always impeccable. He had needed something to occupy himself, lest he give away his thoughts to Giovanni, whose sharp eyes rarely missed a thing. His efforts, however, had come too late, for Lorenzo's anxiety hung heavy in the air.
"Altezza, though it is perhaps not my place to pry…" Giovanni was always careful not to offend. "I can see that you are trouble. What have I done to cause you such worry?" Lorenzo said nothing at first, keeping his eyes fixed on the papers beneath his fingers. "Please, altezza…forgive your servant." At this, Lorenzo had to laugh.
"Forgive you? For what? You have only served me for a year and already you have saved my life—twice—and secured my place as signoria of Firenze countless times. God knows the sacrifices that you have made for my benefit! You have a family to care for, a wife to love, and yet still you serve me diligently, never questioning." As he spoke, Lorenzo felt the weight of his own words upon him, and his heart sank with shame. "If anyone should apologize, it is I…for desiring more than what I have a right to demand." Giovanni stood motionless through all of this, by Lorenzo could see flickers of emotion in his eyes, on his lined face. Was it anger? Disgust? It did not matter now; all was revealed. Lorenzo sank into his chair, his head dropping into his hands. He could hear Giovanni move around him—no doubt evacuating the palazzo to escape this embarrassment.
"Altezza…look at me, I beg you." Lorenzo hesitantly raised his eyes and found, much to his surprise, that rather than running for the door Giovanni had knelt before him, his eyes full of that great kindness that Lorenzo had grown so fond of. He reached up to touch Lorenzo's face, his fingers as gentle as he had imagined they would be. "I never intended to hurt or torment you. I am a man of considerable skills, and I employ these skills as well as I can, but…even my eyes can be deceived. I did not expect you to even consider me as anything more than your humble accountant; I had believed that my hopes were too great."
"Your…hopes?" Giovanni nodded, his brows knotted and eyes downcast in shame.
"I, too, have betrayed the vows I made to my wife—in thought, if not in deed. However, I am fortunate enough to have a wife who understands that the nature of a man's love can be…complicated. I think, perhaps, she saw it in me before I knew it myself." Giovanni stared up at Lorenzo for a moment, then pulled him into his arms and kissed him with more passion that he had believed was possible in a man. Into his ear, he whispered: "I am bound to you, altezza, now and forever." Lorenzo had no words, and indeed would have no time to say them, for Giovanni quickly occupied his mouth with a kiss that he happily reciprocated. There was no bed in Lorenzo's study, so instead Giovanni lifted him onto the desk, knocking the account books to the floor.
"Th-the door, Giovanni…" Lorenzo whispered urgently, and the assassin moved quickly, propping a chair under the doorknob. When that was done, he rushed back to Lorenzo and crushed their lips together again, tongues and hands groping desperately as they consummated their long-hidden desires. Finally, they broke for air, and Giovanni pressed his forehead to that of his young master as he caught his breath.
"Lorenzo…" he panted, marking perhaps the first time his given name had passed Giovanni's lips in his presence. "You must be certain…the dangers are considerable. If we were to be found…" Lorenzo shook his head, chuckling softly.
"Do you think I would have allowed you to go this far if I did not want you?" Lorenzo grasped Giovanni's doublet and pulled him flush against his chest. "I need this, Giovanni. You can give me what I lack, what I sorely desire…" Giovanni understood this, of course; the fate of all those born into nobility was to marry for title and position, not love and passion. Lorenzo was certainly no exception.
"Then, altezza, I will grant your wishes." Giovanni's dexterous fingers went to work untying the satin ribbons that held Lorenzo's robe together, while Lorenzo loosened Giovanni's cravat, hands shaking with anticipation. The assassin was far more experienced than he, and clearly far more skilled; Lorenzo's inexperience showed in the clumsy movement of his fingers and the shortness of his breath. Again, Giovanni was patient with him, waiting silently as Lorenzo slowly divested him of his belt and doublet. He gave Lorenzo time to explore his chest, scored with scars and dark hair that trailed down his abdomen in a way that almost seemed taunting. "Do you approve, altezza?"
Lorenzo could only nod; words were beyond him, and he shook now with lust rather than inexperience, his shyness forgotten. Lorenzo pulled Giovanni closer, pressing swift kisses to his stomach and chest as he unbuckled his belt and finished disrobing him. Giovanni slid the robe from Lorenzo's shoulders and tossed it aside before taking Lorenzo's hips into his hands and pulling him to the edge of the desk, licking the inside of his thigh purposefully. A soft moan escaped Lorenzo's lips, and he arched into the touch. "Giovanni…please…" He needed little convincing. Giovanni knelt and, after trailing more kisses down Lorenzo's leg, took his manhood into his mouth. Lorenzo threw his head back, biting his lip to stifle the loud moan that had threatened to escape. Never before had he experienced an ecstasy this intense; not by himself and certainly not with his wife. The sensation of Giovanni's mouth on the velvety skin of his cock was nearly enough to push him over the edge, He could feel the spring tighten in his stomach as Giovanni sucked and teased, his tongue exploring every crease and fold of his flesh. He shivered and moaned low in his throat, gripping the edges of the desk, preparing to empty himself into Giovanni's mouth…
…until it suddenly stopped.
"G-Giovanni!?" He cried, nearly whined at the sudden loss of his mouth upon him. Giovanni rose and stroked Lorenzo's hair, damp with sweat, consoling him with a kiss to his hot neck. "Why? I was not finished!" The assassin laughed, only serving to infuriate him more.
"Patience, altezza." He rasped, sliding two of his clever fingers into Lorenzo's mouth, inciting from him a groan of frustration. "You do not want me to waste you with petty tricks, do you?" Lorenzo had been quite enjoying those "petty tricks". "Besides…I have something better in store for you." He removed his fingers, now wet with Lorenzo's saliva. Lifting one of his legs over his shoulder, he pressed one gently inside of him, pushing past the tight muscle of his opening. The feeling was equal parts pleasure and discomfort, which only intensified when Giovanni inserted the other finger, but Lorenzo soon forgot the pain when the assassin wrapped his hand around his swollen cock. As he stroked, his fingers stretched and scissored inside of Lorenzo, sending him once again toward a swift completion—which, once again, Giovanni interrupted, stopping short just as he was about to spill over his devilish fingers.
"M-must you torment me? You b-beast…nngh…" Lorenzo squirmed in frustration beneath Giovanni, mourning the loss of his ministrations.
"Forgive me, altezza. Have you any oil?" The young signoria nodded and gestured blindly to the back of the room, where upon a large chest of drawers sat a number of bottles. Giovanni searched through them and, once finding his prize, uncorked the bottle and grinned victoriously. It was almost enough to make Lorenzo forgive him for his teasing. Pouring a liberal amount into his hand, Giovanni smeared it upon his own manhood, eliciting from himself a soft sigh. He had, until now, gone completely untouched, and Lorenzo realized that if he was suffering, that Giovanni must have been bursting at the seams for release. Giovanni exhibited such patience, as ever.
"Andiamo, Giovanni…per favore…" Lorenzo was not prone to begging, but this man had made him gladly swallow his pride, and his own patience was growing very thin. Giovanni conceded, placing the bottle of oil beside him on the desk and positioning himself between Lorenzo's legs, stroking them gently.
"Are you ready, altezza?" Giovanni asked, his voice soft and rich as the velvet that hung from Lorenzo's window. He simply nodded, frantically, and Giovanni slid inside of him, sighing in relief. Lorenzo gripped Giovanni's shoulders and clenched his teeth in pain, though it was not as intense as before, thanks to Giovanni's careful preparations. He whimpered against his skin, and as Giovanni began to move, the initial sting soon ebbed away, replaced with an intense pleasure that made him shudder and cry out, breaking the silence of the study. "R-remember yourself, altezza…" Giovanni chided him as he pushed deeper and deeper. Lorenzo begged Giovanni to go faster, but he would not, knowing as Lorenzo did not that such treatment bore painful consequences.
Giovanni came first, emptying himself inside of Lorenzo and clenching his teeth to stifle his own moans. The sudden heat of it was enough to pull Lorenzo along with him, his seed spent upon their stomachs. Giovanni pressed his forehead to the cool wood of the desk as he and Lorenzo gasped for air, and when he had finally gathered himself enough to speak, he pressed a firm kiss to Lorenzo's lips.
"S-stay, Giovanni…please." Lorenzo stroked Giovanni's cheek pleadingly, but he shook his head, though his firmness betrayed his own desire to do just that.
"You know that I cannot do that, altezza. We must never be discovered. Lives, countries, everything is at stake." There was a great sadness in Giovanni's voice, one that nearly made Lorenzo pull him back into his arms. "Worry not, my lord. All will be well." Giovanni quickly dressed and kissed Lorenzo once more "We must simply be patient." As Giovanni disappeared through the study door into the hall, Lorenzo wrapped himself in his robe. He had to believe him, and he did, more than he would ever believe again.