"One night," she said, putting a hand against his chest. "Give me one night, and we never need speak of it again." He was wavering, considering his novice in a way he never had before: as a female. She looked up at him with her steady gray eyes, dark hair released from the confines of the braid she'd had it in for training all day.
"Why?" he asked her, staring down at her with honey-brown eyes. Spots of color burned high on her cheekbones, spreading into a full flush and she dropped her gaze for a moment, but then the color faded and she was looking up at him again.
"We perceive that you are more than simply our master," she said, her voice low and steady, "You are a man, with a man's needs and lately you have seemed… distant. Whatever the reason for that, I… We would offer you a moment to forget your worries. They can keep until the morning, else you would not be headed to your bedchamber." She was the most controversial of his recruits, a tiny slip of a girl, unbelievably fast, but having hardly any strength by comparison. Similarly, it made no sense to use her as a spy as she was entirely lacking in any womanly endowments to entice men and was often mistaken for a child and rarely taken seriously because of it.
"And you were chosen for this duty?" he murmured, wondering how she had been coerced or bribed into doing this. How had they not thought that he would crush her, both her errand and her body had she been able to carry it out?
"I made the choice to volunteer," she said, and the color was burning again in her cheeks. They both paused to look down the hall after hearing a slight sound. Ezio sighed with some frustration. Of course someone was there to see whether or not she succeeded.
"Come in, Chiara," he muttered, "The rest of our conversation can take place behind a closed door." The nearly inaudible shuffle sounded again and Chiara followed behind close on his heels, shutting the door behind her. Abruptly, he turned, slamming his hands against the doors behind her as she skipped backwards against the thick wood. Caged by his arms, her eyes were wide with surprise, but something in them was calculating.
"You 'volunteered'?" he asked, his breath hot on her face as he leaned closer. He sensed her nervousness and didn't push her any further, not yet.
"Yes," she whispered, successfully keeping her voice from either squeaking or trembling at the show of aggression, the assertion of mastery.
"Did you volunteer or were you volunteered by another?" he asked evenly, anger concealed. That his novices would presume on what he needed and then sacrifice one of their own… it was intolerable. He would have words with the ringleaders of the scheme.
"No, master…" she paused, and then carefully corrected herself, "Ezio, no one forced me to be here. I chose this."
"And you are not afraid now?" he murmured as he examined her face. There was no fear in it. Her eyebrows knitted and an expression of puzzlement crossed her features.
"Why should I be afraid?" she asked softly, "You may be an assassin and dangerous, but you have never given me cause to fear you. You are my master, my teacher." The honesty in her soft eyes was absurdly attractive and he found himself suppressing the urge to touch her cheek or wind his fingers in her black hair.
"And why did you volunteer?" he asked, curiosity inexorably driving him to the question. This time when she flushed, her eyes slid away from his, lashes lowered in embarrassment.
"You've outgrown the tastes of the others," she confessed.
"But not yours?" he murmured, marveling at this. He was too old for all of them, but to hear from Chiara that she still found him attractive… it was nothing short of intoxicating. A full night was out of the question, but perhaps a kiss… a kiss would not do so very much harm, would it?
"There's a certain allure to men of your age," she responded. He let a smile curve his lips, pulling at the old scar on one side of his mouth.
"All men my age?" he inquired playfully. Her blush grew deeper.
"Not all," she whispered, "Just you, really." She was looking up at him through her lashes, abashed and hopeful. His smile assumed a fond, lazy tilt as he pressed his lips to hers. Her answering pressure was hesitant and tender and said what both of them knew: that she knew she hadn't convinced him to grant her request for one night yet. Her hands slipped behind his head and tangled in his hair, slender fingers stroking the nape of his neck. He broke the kiss and let his forehead rest against hers. Her eyes closed, she drew in a shuddering breath, then another and bit her lip. He felt a bit of regret, not expecting her to have gotten so excited by a kiss, but then her eyes were open and she was looking at him again.
"First kiss?" he asked. Her lightly glazed stare and parted lips was inviting, enticing. He found himself considering the ramifications of a single night with her. Part of him said that it would be unacceptable, but another repeated her promise of never mentioning it again if he so wished it.
"First willing kiss," she said, her nose wrinkling suddenly, her eyes clearing. He pulled away, removing her hands by the wrist and holding them together in front of him.
"What do you mean 'first willing kiss'?" he asked, a hint of anger coloring his words. If another of the novices had made her 'practice', he would very definitely be having words with them.
"No, no one here," she protested, trying to pull her wrists from his grasp, "It was before I was a novice." Still, a deep growl escaped his chest at the thought of his fragile novice having had such a precious thing like a first kiss stolen from her against her will.
"Ezio," she murmured, attempting to calm him, but he interrupted her.
"And did he take anything else from you when he stole your first kiss?" he demanded, eyes flashing. Her face drained of color while she bit her lip, an edge of panic in her look that she forcibly pushed away while he watched. His lips pressed together.
"That's past, Ezio, there's nothing you or I can do about it," she said sharply, and he had to concede that point to her.
"Perhaps, but it makes me angry to think of it," he said, voice deep with displeasure.
"Then don't," she said, twisting her wrists to break his grip, but failing. Still, it called his attention to the situation and he released her. "I don't think of it unless I absolutely have to, which is never these days."
"Resilient," he remarked, nodding at her. She smiled at the compliment and his mind presented another question.
"Have you lain with a man since?" he asked, his eyes growing sharp as he saw her visibly shy away from the question.
"Well, no," she said, "No opportunity has presented itself because not many men are attracted to…" she trailed off and then simply indicated her child-like body. He realized immediately what a mistake it had been to betray his attraction to her with his kiss. The hope in her eyes was palpable and finally he found himself giving in. He turned away from her and walked deeper into his bedchamber, unfastening a piece of his armor as he did so. He let it drop onto the rich rug laid out on the floor and then turned, looking at her. Her expression was hurt behind the resignation, but there was confusion there too as he stared her down from so many feet away.
"If you want to have your one night," Ezio said, his voice floating through her ears, "Then you'll have to be closer to me than that." Her expression was surprised for a breath, but then she was crossing the room, her movements wary and cautious as she stepped up to help him divest of himself of his armor. As her delicate hands untied knots and undid buckles, he bent to kiss her softly again. She paused and his hands helped her finish the job. When the last of his armor was on the floor, he gathered her to him, lifting her bodily off the floor so that her feet dangled in the air before his knees. She tilted her head to fit her mouth to his better, wrapping her legs around the narrowest part of his waist and crossing her ankles, her thighs closing on him to help hold herself up. He carried her to the bed, dropping her on it before untying the sash at her waist and lifting the tunic over her head. She crossed her arms over her chest for a moment, but he took her by the wrists again and pulled them away from her body, kissing her soundly.
"Don't hide," he whispered against her lips, his hand going to her tiny breasts to catch one in his palm. She sighed and then shivered in response. He bowled her over backwards, settling himself against her so that she gasped and arched. He raised an eyebrow at that, putting a little more pressure on her and she groaned, closing her eyes, but not before he saw that they were glazing over again. He pulled away and she made a quiet sound of disappointment, but he shushed her. He pulled off her boots and leggings and then glanced up at her. She nodded, her breath catching, and he spread her, naked, beneath him. She let her head drop back, closing her eyes, trying to resist the compulsion to close her legs and cover herself with the coverlet of the bed. Instead, she knotted her fists in it and tried to relax.
"You're trembling," he murmured, running his hands from her ankles to her hips on first one leg and then the other, the way he might examine the legs of a horse he intended to buy. The contact made her squirm.
"I…" she began, then broke off with a groan, "Ezio, please." He chuckled as he went down on his elbows and rubbed the trimmed silk of his beard along her inner thigh.
"Please what?" he asked, his voice husky as his fingers danced over her center, sampling the moisture there before becoming shocked at just how much of it there was. He chanced a glance at her face and saw that she was watching again. He ran his fingers over the sensitive bud at the top of her cleft so that she jerked before showing her his glistening fingertips. She flushed and let her head drop back as she shut her eyes. He laughed softly against her skin.
"No need to be embarrassed," he said, "Men like it when a woman is wet and ready for them." He laughed again, but stopped when she pulled her legs back toward herself and sat up.
"Do you?" she queried softly, looking at him intently with uncertainty in her eyes. He rose from his elbows and opened his arms to her. She hesitated, but came to him eventually, letting him arrange her as he saw fit. She ended up straddling him, her hands resting on his chest though she was leaning close, hiding her face against his neck.
"Yes," he murmured, "I wanted you wet for me, Chiara." He stroked her back in a soothing gesture and she shivered with the pleasure of the simple touch. She collected herself after a moment and began to pull away his clothing, wanting his skin against hers. When she had what she wanted, she took a moment to compare his heavily scarred skin to hers, yet unmarred. Minutes went by in silence while she traced his scars with her fingers. Suddenly, she froze, blushed, and slipped both her hands over his shoulders, linking them at the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry, that was rude," she mumbled, "I didn't mean to get distracted, master."
"I think we're a little past master and novice at this point," he said, amusement leaking into his voice, "But I understand your curiosity. It's quite alright." Her eyes flitted to his lips and she leaned in, hesitant, but then closed her eyes as she kissed him. She pulled away, only to bury her face in his neck again. He ran his fingers through her hair while he felt her nimble fingers untie the ribbon he used to tie his back. She inhaled deeply.
"You smell like… cinnamon," she whispered almost reverently. He smiled, taking her by the shoulders and pushing her back so that he could look into her eyes.
"You smell like lilies," he said softly, "You remind me of one. They don't look like much until they bloom, but then they're beautiful." She flushed again and he kissed her in response, her lips soft and her tongue joining with his and tangling the two. Supporting her back, he leaned forward, lowering her onto her back again. He took a moment to pull off his own boots and trousers before returning to her. Her eyes were locked at his groin with abject fascination. He smirked a bit and supported himself on his elbows and knees above her.
"You can touch it," he assured her, and she reached out to do so. Her fingers were gentle, her grip light and ghosting as she fisted him a few times. His hand closed around her fingers so that she gripped him more firmly before he showed her how he liked it. When he drew his hand away, she continued and he groaned and shivered above her. She enjoyed his reaction and kept going, experimenting with slowing down or speeding up until, frustrated with her delighted look of control, he reached a hand between her thighs and slipped two fingers inside her. She was slick and there was no resistance. She gasped, her grip suddenly shaky as she tried to focus on what she was doing, but failed as he added a third finger. She stretched around him, her breath coming faster while she trembled. Watching was both erotic and endearing, Ezio thought, withdrawing his fingers and gently taking her hand away from him. He pinned it above her head, then took her other hand and did the same. Trapped in that position, she looked up at him, uncertainty bleeding into her gaze again.
"Tell me yes," he whispered, lacing his fingers with hers while he lined his hips up, her slender legs clinging to his flanks.
"Yes, please, yes," she whispered desperately, and he pushed inside her. He took it slow simply because he was afraid that he would split her tiny body open, but she arched and moaned, forcibly impaling herself further on him. He gritted his teeth, but sheathed himself in her to the hilt and she shuddered and moaned again, a long, low sound of mindless pleasure. He paused there, trying to control himself because she was so tight. She wriggled beneath him desperately.
"Don't move," he hissed, and she stopped squirming, but she was shaking with need.
"Ezio, oh, Ezio please!" she panted. He let go of her hand briefly to lace his fingers in her hair and hold the back of her neck.
"Be still, Chiara," he murmured, "Be calm. Give me a moment." She closed her eyes, her breath coming fast and rough as she tried not to move. As the moment subsided, Ezio moved a little and she groaned her approval, meeting his movement with her own. He continued slowly, letting it build them both back to the brink they'd been on only minutes before. She mewled and keened softly, lost and out of her depth while he closed his eyes and clung to his control, but losing hold of that fast and increasing his speed. Abruptly he stopped, attempting to find his self-control again and Chiara swore beneath her breath.
"You're making this difficult," Ezio grumbled, and her eyes shot open at that, the look in them defiant and irritated.
"You're the one being difficult," she growled in return.
"I'm trying to be gentle so I won't hurt you."
"I'm won't break if you're a little rough, Ezio."
"You're tiny. You will break if I'm not careful," he said carefully, his voice strained. Her eyes intense and enraged, she took her free hand and dug her nails into his shoulder.
"Then break me!" she snarled, showing her teeth. Her command (or was it a dare?) demolished what little control he had been holding on to and he took her hard and instinctively. He snatched the hand on his shoulder and pinned it back down on the bed and showed her his teeth as he asserted his dominance. She arched to receive him, letting him propel her to the edge so that she was poised to fall. He tipped his head down and seized a nipple with his teeth and she cried out, a sound of pure, overwhelming sensuality. He let her nipple go and groaned, shuddering as he spilled himself inside of her. He pulled out and she let out a whimper of loss while he let himself down on her side. He shushed her while he inhaled deeply and blew his breath out. Contentment spread through him, adding to the delightful, boneless feeling he had at the moment. She was breathing deep too, and she let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.
"Old man still has it?" he asked with a breathless chuckle. She laughed, quiet and low.
"Seems like it. Guess I have more sense than the other novices," she murmured in response. He reached out for her and pulled her close, tucking her under his arm so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. She plastered the length of her body alongside his, even going as far as to throw one leg over his. When he didn't protest, she settled into her place with a sigh, her breath brushing against the skin over his collarbone. A few minutes passed and her breathing deepened as she drifted into sleep. Ezio listened while he drifted into sleep himself with a sense of peace he'd not had for a long time.