Disclaimer: All character belong to Ubisoft. We are just poor little penguins who can't afford to be sued...However, we are still playing with their golf clubs...and did we just get a hole in one?

Again, this chapter, especially, contains some very hot man on man sex! If you do not like, do not read! You have been warned! However, if you do like the idea of hot man sex, read and please review! The boys need some encouragement and we need some fish!

Leo had long disappeared out of Federico's sight; behind him he could hear one of the servant girls moving, the heels of her shoes on the flagstone floor raping the silence he longed for. He turned to her and with a quick wave of his arm, Federico sent her away. Flustered, she collected her items and, in her haste, spilled them from her arms. They landed with an earth shattering clatter. Federico could stand no more. "Forget them! Leave them and go." The girl faltered and began to broach an apology. "Go quickly!" His voice was harsh, and indignant. The young girl ran to the nearest door, as her eyes filled with tears, and in her haste she propelled herself into the young Ezio, who, like his brother, seemed perturbed.

"Clumsy," he spat, removing the girl, without any shred of sympathy, from his chest.

"I am sorry, Master Ezio...I just...I..."

"I do not care; just go."

The girl fled finally from the scene and Ezio stalked down the main hallway, pausing at the figure of his brother. He stopped and looked at him:

"Federico," anger was dripping from his voice, and he failed completely to disguise it, "Have there been any callers today?"

Federico turned away from his brother, his hand back across his face.

"Federico I asked you a question!"

"No Ezio! Leo... no one called today."

Ezio felt the anger shudder through his brother. "Leo? What did you say? Has Leonardo been here?"

"No Ezio! No one has been here," Federico launched himself at his brother and flung him against the wall, pinning him in place with both hands on his shirt. "No one, and you will not speak his name in this house. Have you no idea..."

Ezio pushed Federico from him with such force that his elder sibling fell sprawling on the floor. "What is the matter with you? I asked you a question? You still think you have the right to push me around. It was a question Federico what is wrong with you?" Federico rolled to his front and started pulling himself from the floor; as he did so, his shoulders heaved and plump, silent tears began to seep from his eyes. "Federico, have I hurt you?" Ezio made to touch his brother's arm, to pull him to his feet, but Federico threw off his touch.

"Leave me Ezio, I have answered your question. Just leave me!" Leaving Ezio staring perplexed at an empty patch of floor, Federico gathered himself and raced from the room to his bedroom.

Once there, he pushed back the shutters, forcing the daylight out of his small room, and came to collapse on the bed, sinking his face into one of the soft pillows. In his throat his scream formed, and tore unrelentingly to be free; however, he could only emit small, sharp whimpers into his pillow. He brought his hands down in fists against the mattress, forcing them further into the bed until he could feel the wooden frame against his knuckles. Leo had come to his door, but not for him...for Ezio, for his younger brother, his foolish younger brother. When had they met? How had they met? ...And how had they come to be such great friends? He slammed his fists harder before him, kicking off his boots and pushing his body into the mattress, his face into the pillow. His Leo... He wept bitterly, not taking time to breathe as the sobs racked his body. His Leo... What was Ezio doing with his Leo? He cried harder. No. No he couldn't think of that. He couldn't bear to imagine those hands: those soft and tender fingers; those paint-covered, those charcoal-covered, those oil-covered fingers, he couldn't imagine them on his brother's body. Surely Leo wouldn't be that cruel to him? Be so cruel as to make him think like this, about the hands of his lover, his ex-lover – he sobbed harder – on his young brother's body. But then after what he had done to Leo... how he had hurt him... betrayed him... Ezio was stronger than him. He had no energy left to lash out. His mind was shutting down, focussing on nothing... nothing but those fingers.

'Those fingers, long and slender, talented and searching: those fingers of that older man on his young skin. His skin never before touched, never before set aflame until Leo had taken him in his arms. The strength in those arms, and the love in those eyes: the hair falling across Leo's face as he pulled him closer, and then those kisses...'

Federico pulled a hand under him, pulling it across his neck and down to his chest which still pressed tight into the bed. He unleashed the ties on his cream cotton shirt and felt his chest. His nipples were hard, and he wept without tears at the feel of them.

'Leo pulled Federico's tongue into his mouth, the taste of his breath and the warmth of him forcing Federico's manhood to attention...'

Federico brought his hand from his hardened nipples, down across the fabric of his clothes to his waistband. He felt the pressure of his erection pushing into the mattress, and, breathing heavily, he slipped his hand underneath his waistband, and stroked his throbbing penis.

'Leo whispered to him, three little words he had said before, and then without breaking their kiss he wrapped his arms around Federico's waist and lifted him from the hallway, up the familiar staircase to the younger man's small bedroom, where he pulled back the covers, holding his lover with one strong arm, before placing him into his own bed.'

Federico wrapped a hand around his ever-growing erection.

'Looking into those beautiful blue eyes, Federico allowed Leo to undress him, panting always, and groaning at those small touches as Leo's fingers dipped beneath laces to reveal his naked flesh. He relied on the older man to lead him, although they had danced this dance many times before.'

Federico groaned loudly through still weeping eyes as he struggled from his clothes; first his jacket and shirt, and then his breeches, desperate to feel the pressure of his weight pushing his engorged penis into the bed. Memories from this room came flooding back to him, and as much as he longed to control himself, he couldn't control, never had been able to control, the longings Leo – and only Leo – made him feel. He heard a door slam in the house and turned his head, pressing a cheek into the cold pillow. Beside him he saw Leo, beautiful Leo, smiling to him, taking care of him in more ways than one.

Ezio took out his aggression on his bedroom door. Then he took it out on the shutters. Then in the darkness he attacked the table by his bed, sending glasses and paperwork to the floor. He punished his boots and ankles next, yanking his footwear from his body with such harshness that the leather ripped slightly at the seams. Then it was the turn of his clothes, which he threw across the room. He yanked his hands through his hair and across his face. He could think of nothing but Leonardo. He hadn't been home, but how could Ezio have expected him to be? After what he had done? After how he had hurt him? He threw himself back on the bed, staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing there, but a constant, ever-streaming replay of the events of the night before.

Leonardo came to his workshop door and rushed inside. One of his assistants came up to him and began some insistent chatter – something, a painting that he had yet to complete for some god-awful woman...Leonardo sighed. The young man continued pulling papers from his pockets and pushing them to Leonardo's face. Leonardo pulled them from the hands, and, with quick fingers, shredded them to nothing. "I have no need for you today."

"Master, I have something important to tell you! That painting -"

"I have spoken: I do not need you today. Please just leave me now...I shall see you in the morning."

"But...But..."

"If you go now I will consider seeing you in the morning. If you linger but a moment longer, I shall have nothing more to do with you."

The threat hung in the air, and, with this ultimatum, the boy did not hesitate and made for the door, slamming it shut behind him, unfamiliar with Leonardo's temper. Once alone, Leonardo brought his fingers to his temples, making small circular motions with the tips trying to soothe the anger that tormented his being. How could he have been so foolish? He had marched up to the Auditore door and did not think for a second that he could end up standing face to face with Federico...he should have planned better. He should have...Leonardo could not stand it; he screamed – it tore through the silence, ripping it asunder, decimating the tranquil Florentine morning. His anger broke and harsh tears spilled from his eyes and down his face, leaving silvery streams on his fair skin. That man – how could he still anger him so? He himself was free from guilt: he didn't ask Federico into that room that night; he did not know what that one wine-filled evening could become. He began to pace the small space of his workshop, moving around it in circles, his mind clawing through the memories, the ones he had shared with that fucking man.

'He pushed Federico against the rough, stone wall. The grass of the courtyard under their feet and a warm, soft bed mere steps away, but this could not wait. He unleashed the cords on the young man's breeches and dropped to his knees before him, as Federico untied the artist's hair and passed his grasping hands through it. Leo took Federico's cock into his mouth, feeling its warmth and its pulses. His own erection pushed against the constraints of his clothes, but he ignored it, instead pulling Federico further into his mouth. He sucked harder, flicking his tongue across the head as Federico failed to silence his groans. Someone would hear, they both knew it, but that didn't seem to matter; not now... Leo raised his hands to Federico's tight, chiselled arse and pulled the man's hips towards him. Federico fell forwards, hands flying to Leo's shoulders, as Leo struggled to take all of his lover into his mouth. The vibrations of his moans only made Federico rock harder and he pounded into Leo, rutting faster against him, as Leo's hands groped his thighs and arse with increasing strength. Federico would not last long now, rarely could either of them, but Leo kept up his ministrations as the young man panted faster and louder into the twilight which surrounded them.'

Federico pulled his erection into his hands once again, and he moved one slowly up and down the shaft. His mind continued to flood with memories, and tossing himself onto his back, one hand still earnestly stroking his penis, he moved the other across his right thigh, and around and under him, to his arse where he pushed a dry finger into his opening, eliciting moans for a feeling he had not felt in over two years. Two long years.

'Leo lay atop Federico, and Federico basked in the warmth of his lover. He felt their sweat and his own semen on his torso, and felt Leo's hands stroking his abs and hardened nipples. He was spent, and he ached where his lover had pounded inside of him. He reached a hand back into Leo's soft hair. How he loved that hair. He felt Leo's lips smile into his chest. He didn't want this to ever end. Looking down smiling at his lover, he flushed with surprise as Leo flipped him, pushing one of his cheeks into a cold pillow while Leo crawled down his back. He felt Leo's tongue trail between his muscles, across his arse which still cried out in objection to the absence of Leo's touch, and then, as he closed his eyes and cuddled the pillow, he found his body propelled up the bed, and then retrieved and held in place by strong hands, as Leo's tongue flicked at his entrance. The sounds which escaped him could be neither retracted nor controlled. Leo traced his opening, and then pushed his tongue inside his lover. Federico screamed, but did not move away. Not until the door opened, and the outside world swept inside...'

Federico yelled out as his pace quickened. He felt his own warmth splash across his hands as he came, and in the loneliness and silence that followed, he wept for a lover he could no longer touch or reveal his feelings to. Moving from the bed in haste, he donned breeches and a shirt and raced, his anger driving him, down the corridors to Ezio's bedroom door.

Ezio replayed the scenes, again and again, and as he did so he found himself focussing more on Leonardo and the man who had held him, who had made love to him, than on his own guilt. He remembered the passion with which the man had pushed into his friend, and as he recalled the image to his mind he felt those same stirrings in his loins that he could still not explain. He couldn't stop the images from seeping into his consciousness, and he couldn't stop the growth in his penis as he thought... he couldn't stay his own hands either. They slipped between his legs, and when he took hold of his penis he found it already wet; his passion had spent itself over the half-formed thoughts that commanded his mind. He let out a moan and with it came that name: 'Leonardo.' The man's name echoed throughout the bedroom: a hole formed in the pit of Ezio's stomach and was filled with fire as 'Leonardo' lingered on his lips. He wanted the artist, to feel him, and not just watch from the sidelines like a weak, pathetic voyeur. He would have him, had to have him...he had to obey the feelings that surged through his body – he could not deny how right this seemed.

Leonardo crashed into a chair by the fireplace. He refused to allow himself to fall victim to these ridiculous memories and thoughts, but he could not control the passion that burned inside of him. Turning to the table, he took up a bottle of wine and poured a generous glass, which he left on the table as he tipped the contents of the bottle into his mouth. He was hard, but he needed to cry. He couldn't think about these things, these memories that he had so long ago banished from his thoughts... but he couldn't control this. Fuck that man! He could never control this when he was with him.

'Federico's passion flooded into Leo's mouth and Leo swallowed hard, drinking down his lover. He stayed on his knees as Federico passed all of his weight onto his body. Federico was weak, and Leo wanted him in his arms, in his bed. He raised his eyes to look at his lover and there he saw that beautiful face...'

Ezio's face. Leonardo collapsed into his chair again. He had stopped breathing, but that didn't mean he needed to stop drinking. Ezio. No, that was wrong... Federico had stood before him, but not now. Now his Federico was not in his mind, not in his memories. Instead Ezio filled his mind. Kind Ezio, passionate and sensitive Ezio... strong Ezio. Yes, strong. Ezio was stronger than Federico had ever been. Ezio must surely have known of the rumours that were spreading about him when he wrapped his arm across his shoulders and walked him to the bordello that night. Ezio had not cared, not cared... not cared... it had been a totally opposite reaction to that of Federico when they had been caught. Ezio had been kind to him, and now, as Leonardo took the bottle of wine - leaving the full glass beside the chair - and walked to his bedroom, it was Ezio who he imagined walked with him. Ezio, in his mind, did not walk behind him as Federico had always done, allowing himself to be led to the bed. Ezio walked before him, pulling at his hands and clothes, desperately taking Leonardo to his own bed and laying him down to love him.

Federico closed on Ezio's bedroom door. The umbrage that coursed through his veins still unabated. His hand went to the silver door knob and rested there. His sweaty hands shook as they met the cold metal; from the room he could hear muffled sounds – Ezio seemed to be muttering to himself. Slowly he turned the handle, hearing a small click as the bolts came undone...

Ezio sat up on the bed, pulling his hands to his face as his passion lay exposed before him. The pieces had fallen into place, and at every corner, holding them all together, was the image of Leonardo. 'Leonado'... he muttered the name again, and couldn't stay his tongue as his bedroom door swung open.