He Who Is Casanova
The candlelight stuttered in the gloom, casting moving shadows across the walls and tapestries where one can see them echo to the motion on the bed.
Grimani could not care less, his eyes transfixed on the couple on the bed, their coupling more for show and leisure than want and desparation and the man was looking at him saying through his eyes "look look this is what I mean listen to her listen what she wants you to do without words faster slower longer deeper harder..."
The woman gasped, giving sound of her completion and although Casanova did not reach his, he let her go, allowing her to slip unconcious at the far end of the big four poster bed before he held his hand out to Grimani.
Grimani could hear his heart thundering in his ears and feel the blood rushing through his heated body as he met the man's stare with his own.
The Venetian Ambassador knew it was outrageous and courting sin to allow a man to touch his body but his obsession for Henrietta's heart whispered to him that it could bring him closer to his wife by understanding his rival in love.
However, a few hours later, at the crack of dawn, he could not feel any more successful than the day before as he lay wrapped in the warmth of Giacomo Casanova, the prostitute from the night already long gone from the chamber. Instead of feeling closer to Henrietta he felt himself getting closer to the man, understanding more of his heart and soul and whether it was for hate or lust, his prediction had come true. They only have each other after all.
-End