Treasure in Clay Vessels
Chapter 4
Girolamo didn't see Leonardo again until the night after the demonstration. Neither Giuliano, Lorenzo or Becchi had returned to the bank, so he was left wondering for hours how things went. Since there were no frenzied shouts or mobs demanding Leonardo's head, he assumed the worst had not occurred and there had been no mass slaughter of Florentine noblemen by a rogue cannon.
A knock on the door of his lodging interrupted his reading, and he cautiously slid his dagger into his hand before wondering who would disturb him at such a late hour.
"I will have you know that, whatever you may hear to the contrary, today was a rousing success," Leonardo insisted as he pushed his way inside the room. Girolamo managed to sheathe the dagger before he noticed, curious how Leonardo knew where he lived.
"If you have to argue that vociferously, it rather indicates the opposite."
Leonardo shook his head and stepped closer, backing Girolamo against the door. "It worked, by all that is holy, better than I ever could have imagined. The possibilities... the potential..." He looked at Girolamo through his eyelashes, boyish grin lighting up his face. "There was only one miscalculated detonation, a touch more recoil than I'd calculated, and my hearing has already sufficiently recovered."
"Of course," Girolamo said weakly.
"But then, I don't particularly need my hearing for what I have in mind for this evening. I already know you'll be calling out my name and at least one deity. If you need to communicate anything else, I can read your lips," Leonardo said the last words with his lips already on Girolamo's. Then he licked into his mouth, and Girolamo forgot everything else for a long moment.
"Not here," he gasped as Leonardo kissed his way over to the soft place right below Girolamo's ear that he'd never known was wired directly to his cock.
"Come back to my lodgings where we can be as loud as we desire?"
Girolamo tried to make the excuse to himself that he would reconnoiter and gather more information about the musket demonstration. But, as soon as they were safely inside Leonardo's room, the only thing on his mind was hotter, faster and more, more of everything. Leonardo didn't even let him make it to the bed, trapping him against the wall with strong hands and hard hips, kissing him breathless then pulling away to meet his eyes and wink before dropping to his knees.
Girolamo would have been ashamed that the only words to cross his lips were, indeed, Leonardo's name and a few choked off entreaties to his deity; but, he couldn't bring himself to care that Leonardo was proved right, and he came, clutching the short spikes of Leonardo's hair, barely able to keep his knees from buckling.
Leonardo bounced to his feet and kissed Girolamo again, the taste making Girolamo wrinkle his nose. Leonardo laughed and led him to the bed, shrugging off his clothes as they went. Girolamo's shirt hung half open and his unlaced trousers already threatened to slide off, so he stepped out of them to join Leonardo in his nudity.
"I needed that," Leonardo said. "But now, I would really like to have your mouth on me."
Girolamo was only too happy to comply, learning with a light touch and curling tongue, what could make Leonardo shout. As he brought Leonardo to the brink with his wet, hot mouth and tight hand, he had never felt more power over another human. The rush lasted even after Leonardo came, then manhandled him into some sort of arrangement of arms, legs and chests that was inexplicably comfortable.
"The test was a success—thanks to you," Leonardo said, brushing a dark lock of hair out of Girolamo's eyes. "It will soon be the talk of Florence, and we will have the independent means to protect ourselves."
"Protect ourselves from whom?"
"From anyone who threatens to take away our freedom."
"And do you think that is a risk?"
Leonardo stopped petting him and looked him in the eye. "You are too intelligent and well-informed not to know about the impending danger. Pope Sixtus yearns for more money and power, and his bastard nephew will not stop until he has conquered as much of Italy as he can—by force or by financial pressure or by allowing the pope to excommunicate anyone who dares disagree with him."
The truth stabbed like daggers in his heart, and Girolamo had to pull away and sit up. "And you would rather position yourself as their enemy, the enemy of His Holiness, the Supreme Pontiff of the Church?"
"I would rather not consider myself the enemy of anyone, except perhaps those who are attempting to harm me and those I love, take away our freedom and subjugate us."
"Do not loyal subjects long to obey their supreme authority, that of the Lord and his vicar on this earth?"
"Can you say that the same Lord who gave His life for sinners such as we would really command his church to take over kingdoms on earth and enslave the people to fill the church's own coffers?"
"I am a faithful follower and devout to my God," Girolamo said, rising stiffly and pulling on his clothes as quickly as possible.
"Why are we arguing about this? Is this our first argument? Wait, don't leave yet. You'll miss the most enjoyable part of disagreeing—the reconciliation." Leonardo smiled suggestively, reaching out for him, but Girolamo stepped away.
"I cannot have this discussion with you right now."
"Wait, Girolamo, how did we even begin this? What did I say that made you overreact?"
"You said that you would provide the means to go on the offensive against anyone you consider enemies of Florence. Even if that is the hand of God on earth." Leonardo stood up and reached out to hold Girolamo's arms, his body rigid with barely controlled anger. He stared directly into his eyes.
"Girolamo, no matter where you place your faith, no matter what you believe in church or when you're on your knees, do you truly think, in your heart, that Rome will ever leave alone a power such as Florence? Don't you see that they want to take over, assimilate, force us to their will, just so corrupt officials like Sixtus and Riario can take whatever they want?"
Girolamo knew Leonardo felt his body jerk when he said the names, but he didn't take his eyes from the artista's. He just pulled away and turned, leaving the building without a look behind, his heart aching and his mind whirling.
He hadn't come to any conclusion, didn't even know if there was a resolution to the conflicts in his mind and soul. He had heard before the same arguments Leonardo gave, all from those who sought to disown the church and separate the secular and the faithful. He had grown up with only the church, lived and breathed it, and could not imagine life separate from it. That would be his very definition of hell.
On the other hand, he had lived in Florence for months and seen first-hand that most of the people there were simply...people, not monsters or demons. He had enjoyed parts of it, even looked back on the times with Giuliano with a fondness tempered by the fact they hadn't caroused for some time. And then there was the artista. That threw his mind into more turmoil. He honestly could not classify his emotions there.
All he knew was that his heart leaped into his throat when Leonardo was waiting for him right outside the bank the next day.
"Good day," Leonardo graced him with a proper greeting for the first time.
"And to you," he replied.
"Do you have plans to dine tonight?"
"No," Girolamo said, planning to end the entire interaction right away.
"Then come with me. There are some people I want you to meet." Leonardo strode off without waiting for confirmation, and Girolamo cursed his own curiosity for wanting to follow. He wondered who Leonardo could be talking about when they approached The Barking Dog.
"In here?"
"Oh, come now, don't forget I've already seen you frequent such low-class establishments," Leonardo held the door open for him so Girolamo reluctantly entered. It turned out Leonardo's friends were there, the blond boy he affectionately called Nico and the bearded Zoroaster who stared at Girolamo with unabashed loathing.
Girolamo expected the evening to drag on but once food arrived and the wine flowed, he found himself not completely hating the experience. The conversation was lively, the teasing heartfelt, and between Leonardo and Zoroaster, they appeared to know something embarrassing about each person in the tavern. Even Vanessa, the serving girl, gave him a bright smile when she refilled his glass, although she gave Leonardo a kiss for the same favor. They drank and laughed, and Leonardo managed to keep his attention focused solely on them, even as he repeatedly flipped a heavy key over the knuckles of one hand before switching it to the other.
"These are the same people who will be most affected if Rome takes over rule of the republic," Leonardo whispered to him at one moment when Zoroaster had Nico in a headlock. "Their lives as they know them would end, and they'd be forced to change everything or face severe punishment."
Girolamo sucked in a breath, reacting as much to Leonardo's warm voice in his ear as to the notion.
Zoroaster cast a black look at both of them and started telling a story about an adventure he and Leonardo had taken when they were teenagers. Girolamo found he was highly entertained by the man's obvious need for Leonardo's attention and amused himself by sliding a little closer to Leonardo, who didn't seem to mind. When Leonardo slung an arm around the back of his chair, he watched Zoroaster's jealousy flare again, and he nearly laughed out loud. The man was really too much like a lapdog, sniffing around his master and allowing no other pet to approach or he would bare his teeth. Although Girolamo didn't like his own place in that allusion, he leaned close into Leonardo's neck to murmur something about the wine and listened to Zoroaster curse.
Leonardo didn't catch on to the game, but he did seem to enjoy the extra attention so he assumed Girolamo was going home with him. Zoroaster growled into his cup, Nico smiled blearily, and Girolamo didn't even try to resist.
"Just lie back and feel for once. Stop thinking," Leonardo commanded as soon as he had Girolamo lying naked on his bed.
"I believe I could tell you much the same thing. What design are you envisioning right now?"
"Only the vision that lies before me," Leonardo grinned, the expression that wrinkled his nose and made him look like a young boy trying to get away with petty theft. He knew exactly how disarming that grin could be. Girolamo stopped his own smile but couldn't help the quirk of his lips. Leonardo's fingers stroked them gently.
"You do that when you're thinking and you're unsure whether you're allowed to say whatever you have in mind. I want to know what you're holding back." Leonardo followed his fingers with his lips and kept on kissing him until Girolamo didn't know when the worries finally stopped because every thought was filled with Leonardo.
As they lay together after, Leonardo stroked Girolamo's face, fingers gently flexing and learning the feel of it as he talked about wanting to officially sketch Girolamo.
"I would know you," Leonardo said.
"You believe that we could become better acquainted even after tonight?"
Leonardo rolled to lean up on his elbow over Girolamo, but he didn't touch him this time. "There are some things that are readily apparent about you." He waited for Girolamo to roll his eyes a little before going on in a faux-serious lecturing tone.
"I know that you prefer fine wines and luxurious foods, not the swill of The Barking Dog." He allowed Girolamo a quiet chuckle before he placed his hand on the center of Girolamo's chest. "I know you think Master de Medici is a spoiled brat incapable of finding his pompous ass with both hands, but still you humor him. And it's not just because he is your superior at the bank."
Girolamo shrugged but didn't move enough to dislodge the pleasant pressure of Leonardo's hand across his chest. He went on, "And I know that there are layers to you that you are unable or unwilling to show even to yourself. There is much more to you than meets the eye, Girolamo, but I think I'm close to discovering your biggest secret." Girolamo tried not to tense as Leonardo whispered in his ear, "You've never been with a man until me."
Girolamo shivered in relief as much as from the warm breath that began to stir his body again. "It was that obvious?" He rose to the challenge, rolling over and pinning Leonardo to the bed with a deft move, but Leonardo just grinned his smug smile.
"It just means I get to instruct you carefully, and I find that I quite like being a maestro."
"Perhaps it is time for me to demonstrate what I have learned from your teachings," Riario licked up his throat and bit him right below the ear, luxuriating in the groan it produced.
"The first lesson I have been forced to master is that one must concentrate fully on one's partner, in the moment, to stop thinking," he parroted back Leonardo's words from earlier in the evening, making him chuff out a laugh.
"That sounds like a lesson that I've had quite a difficult time getting through the obstinate head of my pupil."
"What rich irony, coming from a man whose single-minded focus only rears its head when we are fucking."
Leonardo laughed louder until Girolamo ran his hands up Leonardo's sides slowly, curving his thumbs to brush over his nipples, once, twice, then followed to suckle until they peaked tightly. Girolamo continued his hands down to entwine in Leonardo's and pull them gently up so Leonardo's arms were raised above his own head, then curled Leonardo's hands around the headboard.
"Keep them there. I want you to lie back and feel everything," he murmured then delighted in biting his way back down Leonardo's body as the artista flexed and arched against his mouth but did not move to touch him in return.
When Girolamo settled back on Leonardo's thighs, stroking over the strong muscles bunched there in anticipation, he leaned forward, letting his entire torso rest on Leonardo's, all the bare skin touching as he spoke into his ear. "Sometime, I want to tie you up, immobilize your hands and your legs. Make you concentrate only on this." He reached between them to slowly stroke Leonardo's hard cock. "Make you feel only what I give you. And you will take, take it all until I decide you've had enough. Only then will I let you come."
Leonardo shook at the command in his gravelly voice, and Girolamo moved swiftly then to swallow him down, trying to copy the tricks Leonardo had used on him. Leonardo bit out half-hearted curses, but when Girolamo suckled his own finger then worked it gently into Leonardo, finding his prostrate more by luck than skill and massaging carefully, Leonardo came with a shout.
After he caught his breath, he was all to happy to have Girolamo sit on his thighs again as he used his hand to bring him to completion.
"Stay," Leonardo whispered into his hair as they tangled together afterward.
"Not now," Girolamo said, but Leonardo held him tighter for a moment and sighed. "There is something troubling your mind, Artista?"
"There is something peculiar happening around me, and I'm not sure I can believe what I am seeing with my own eyes," Leonardo said after a long moment. "There are certain distractions here, beyond the plans I am developing for Lorenzo. Do you remember when I mentioned something called the Book of Leaves? I have been researching into its mystery and investigating related matters, and all I find are more questions and more confusion."
"Do you believe this book is important?" Girolamo asked quietly even as his heart lurched.
"I do. And I believe there is more to the mystery that I have yet to uncover. Who knows how immense this conspiracy could be." Leonardo leaned over the edge of the bed, rummaging through his trouser pocket to find the key. He strung it on a leather cord and lay back down, held it dangling over them, something about it making Girolamo want to shudder. "There must be a solution to every problem, no matter how impossible it seems."
"If anyone can find an impossible solution to a difficulty, it is you. Even if you cannot solve it, you will indubitably find a way to blow it up."
"Sometimes that works just as well," Leonardo smiled and clutched the key in his fist, turning his head to kiss Girolamo softly.
"I must go," he murmured, carefully not touching the key as he sat up then leaned back in to kiss Leonardo goodbye.
Although he could never claim to be an artist, he wished he could capture the image of Leonardo he beheld as he left—the beautiful body sprawled on the ruined sheets of the bed, the look on his face of some emotion Girolamo couldn't put a name to. Girolamo smiled at him and left.
The next day, the whispers were flying and tongues wagging even before Lorenzo swept into the bank looking as enraged as Girolamo had ever seen him. It was only moments before the news and the terror hit Girolamo.
Pietro Riario was coming to Florence.