Ezio loved Firenze at night, particularly during the summer. He revelled in the fresh night air which massaged his cheeks; the laughs he heard coming from the closed doors of taverns and the l'amore di rose. Cocky as he was, Ezio barged into a tavern with its doors open, slung himself upon a stool and beckoned the bartender towards him.
"You still got peach fuzz, ragazzo." The bartender grumbled in an accent not from Firenze. Ezio stroked his tender cheek, realising it was true. What's wrong in trying?
"What's wrong with that, bastardo?" his bashfulness got the better of him. Before he could think, Ezio felt a pair of sweaty hands under his arms, and the dust of the street on his arse. Foterre, he thought. He lay his head against the cobbled street, feigning any morsel of strength he may have had to stand. He listened to the screeching song of a bard a few houses down the street: something about a king casting down a dragon for his queen.
Involuntarily, Ezio was lugged to his feet and pinned to a wall in a back courtyard. His back ached even more- more than it had ever- as he felt the rustles of the brick scratch his vertebrae and shoulder blades. He felt a harsh boot kick apart his legs, and the cold shiver of a knife in between them.
"Buona sera, Ezio." God, he hated that voice.
Ezio considered Vierri di Pazzi to be the scum of Firenze. He would have head-butted him and called him all sorts of names: if he didn't have a knife so close to his cock. "Having a nice little stroll, are we?"
Ezio glanced at the henchmen beside him. Both brutes; both educated; both able. Ezio considered Vierri to look like a twat tonight, with that pathetic beret he paraded around and his shoulder length cobalt hair. Though he was two years Ezio's elder, he barely had a hair on his chin, and he stood a good few inches shorter than Ezio. I guess that's why he has his brutes.
"Do you enjoy having your blade so close to my cazzo?" Ezio mocked. Vierri chuckled intrepidly; leant in close to Ezio (so close his could smell the wine on his tongue), and pecked a kiss upon his lips. Ezio tried to pull back, but couldn't; apprehended, for once, by a wall. Ezio felt the knife shimmy down his leg, and then the clatter of steel against cobble. Vierri insisted, pushing something uninvited against the inside of Ezio's leg he didn't much appreciate. "I thought you liked to court Cristina Vespucci." Ezio gasped as Vierri paused.
"The girl is stubborn: I have moved to broader horizons."
"Is that your pene against my leg?"
"Why don't you find out?" Vierri moaned before unlacing his trousers. Seeing his opportunity, Ezio brought the full force of his kick to Vierri's groin. The Pazzi brat seized up, keeled over, and sprawled into the muck of the street. Before his goons had drawn their cotelli, Ezio was gone via a side alley, his heart hammering in his chest. Not risking the chance of either thug scarpering after him, Ezio absconded onto the rooftops.
By the time he arrived at the Villa Auditore, the hour was late. He stripped down into nakedness; fell into bed; and awoke in what seemed like minutes later when his madre called.