Leonardo's face was a mixture of surprise and horror when he looked up over the back of the couch. Ezio froze, unsure of what else to think or say—words never seemed to fly from his mind like it did now.
A slender hand curled into Leonardo's half-undone shirt, and soon, Salai's full and curly head made an appearance. Unlike Leonardo, nothing covered Salai's shoulders and chest, and the boy regarded Ezio as if the assassin had woken him from a nice dream, with lips pursed, nose scrunched.
"Did I interrupt something?" Ezio asked.
Leonardo immediately said, "No!" with his face still flushed, but Salai broke in with a sour, "Yes."
When Leonardo looked, aghast, at Salai, the boy was still staring at the assassin by the door. "We're busy," Salai said, licking his lips slowly. "Unless you plan to join us, get out."
Leonardo covered Salai's mouth with a palm, tried hard to cover the rude and brash words that had left the apprentice's mouth. Worried, Leonardo looked apologetically at Ezio, but the assassin only chuckled.
"And if I take you up on that offer, Little Devil?" Ezio pressed.
Salai shrugged, and then looped his arms around Leonardo's neck so he could peer slyly over one of his bare arms. "More fun for me and Maestro."
Leonardo whispered a scolding, "Salai…" and the boy looked up into the artist's face, brows together. "Do not bother Ezio with our affairs."
A wicked spark melted into Salai's eyes, though the only show of it was the twist of his lips upward. "You want it," Salai whispered, inches from Leonardo's lips so that his warm breath tingled over them, so that his eyes could be half-lidded while he played with the sensitive hair at the nape of the artist's neck. He could feel Leonardo's muscles tighten under his thighs thrown over the man's waist. "I do not hear him objecting…"
A moment's pause, and then Leonardo was kissing Salai back down into the couch as the sound of buckles unclasping murmured from the door, as booted feet carried a certain assassin over. The boy gasped as he let himself be tickled by beard on his bare skin, by lips suckling soft bruises there, and calloused hands exploring low on his hip.
Flushed, but with a foxish smile, Salai hungrily watched Ezio drop the white hood back from over one of Leonardo's shoulders.