(no subject)
Florence, 1513
"Come here," Ezio says, leaning against the side of the tub on one arm and using the other to reach out to her, to beckon her closer. "I need to tell you something."
"So say it," she replies, bluntly. She doesn't move even a fraction of an inch closer, too busy folding up her clothing.
Ezio isn't fazed. He stays there, hanging off the edge of the tub, still beckoning. "I must whisper it into your ear."
Sofia sighs, but a smile plays around the corners of her lips, and Ezio's sharp eyes see it. She casually brushes a lock of loose hair out of her face and comes closer. When she moves closer to the candles on the table, the thin white cotton of her shift glows, giving him a glimpse of her silhouette underneath. He loves her body, loves running his hands over it, and with that in mind he keeps beckoning until she gets close enough.
"Alright," she says, with a playfully reluctant tone, a woman poking fun at her husband's terribly high demands.
When she finally gets close and bends over, he leans up to whisper... but instead hooks his free arm around her waist and pulls her into the tub with him, a big grin on his face. She yelps and struggles for a second, but it's to no avail -- she's soaked in an instant, right on top of him. They spend a moment tussling, splashing each other and horsing around, but eventually Sofia gets herself upright and comfortably straddles him, with Ezio sunk into the water up to his shoulders.
"Oops," he hums, one hand sliding up her back, the other holding hers. "I didn't mention that I wanted to hold you close, too."
"And here I was expecting sweet nothings," she replied, sounding a touch unconvinced, but smiling regardless. The water's warm, and the fabrics of her undergarments weigh heavy when waterlogged, clinging to her curves. He's quite sure many women would be protesting an unsolicited dip, let alone all the travel, the assassinations, the risk to their lives, and so on. Any woman can love Ezio for a day, but for this many years, well... that takes a special woman.
Then again, Sofia isn't like other women. She's someone who can match his unorthodox life, and handle it all with grace, wit, intelligence, beauty... if he were a religious man, he'd claim her to be a daughter of angels or something, but because he isn't, he'll settle for calling her the very best mankind could offer. That's why they work together so well. Her hands trace his chest, underwater, and she bends close, the tip of her nose brushing his. He closes his eyes.
"You aren't too tired?" she asks, quietly.
Truth be told, he is so very tired and it has been such a long day, but he doesn't have to think about his answer.
"Cara mia," Ezio replies, in that low rumble, "I may be old, but I am never too tired for you."
She brushes the backs of her fingers along his cheek for a moment, just quietly touching, and then runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. It's silent for a moment, punctuated only by shifting water and the sounds of the city beyond the window. Her gaze is warm, warmer than the water, and just seeing her face makes him smile. Her smile blossoms, too, and then grows a little more playful as she presses a kiss to his nose, and then to his lips. He wraps his arms around her, sinking deeper into the water as their bodies press close.
He's so incredibly fortunate to have the opportunity to be in love, to have a wife, to live the best life, despite all the chaos.
And there's so much more to come.
"Come here," Ezio says, leaning against the side of the tub on one arm and using the other to reach out to her, to beckon her closer. "I need to tell you something."
"So say it," she replies, bluntly. She doesn't move even a fraction of an inch closer, too busy folding up her clothing.
Ezio isn't fazed. He stays there, hanging off the edge of the tub, still beckoning. "I must whisper it into your ear."
Sofia sighs, but a smile plays around the corners of her lips, and Ezio's sharp eyes see it. She casually brushes a lock of loose hair out of her face and comes closer. When she moves closer to the candles on the table, the thin white cotton of her shift glows, giving him a glimpse of her silhouette underneath. He loves her body, loves running his hands over it, and with that in mind he keeps beckoning until she gets close enough.
"Alright," she says, with a playfully reluctant tone, a woman poking fun at her husband's terribly high demands.
When she finally gets close and bends over, he leans up to whisper... but instead hooks his free arm around her waist and pulls her into the tub with him, a big grin on his face. She yelps and struggles for a second, but it's to no avail -- she's soaked in an instant, right on top of him. They spend a moment tussling, splashing each other and horsing around, but eventually Sofia gets herself upright and comfortably straddles him, with Ezio sunk into the water up to his shoulders.
"Oops," he hums, one hand sliding up her back, the other holding hers. "I didn't mention that I wanted to hold you close, too."
"And here I was expecting sweet nothings," she replied, sounding a touch unconvinced, but smiling regardless. The water's warm, and the fabrics of her undergarments weigh heavy when waterlogged, clinging to her curves. He's quite sure many women would be protesting an unsolicited dip, let alone all the travel, the assassinations, the risk to their lives, and so on. Any woman can love Ezio for a day, but for this many years, well... that takes a special woman.
Then again, Sofia isn't like other women. She's someone who can match his unorthodox life, and handle it all with grace, wit, intelligence, beauty... if he were a religious man, he'd claim her to be a daughter of angels or something, but because he isn't, he'll settle for calling her the very best mankind could offer. That's why they work together so well. Her hands trace his chest, underwater, and she bends close, the tip of her nose brushing his. He closes his eyes.
"You aren't too tired?" she asks, quietly.
Truth be told, he is so very tired and it has been such a long day, but he doesn't have to think about his answer.
"Cara mia," Ezio replies, in that low rumble, "I may be old, but I am never too tired for you."
She brushes the backs of her fingers along his cheek for a moment, just quietly touching, and then runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. It's silent for a moment, punctuated only by shifting water and the sounds of the city beyond the window. Her gaze is warm, warmer than the water, and just seeing her face makes him smile. Her smile blossoms, too, and then grows a little more playful as she presses a kiss to his nose, and then to his lips. He wraps his arms around her, sinking deeper into the water as their bodies press close.
He's so incredibly fortunate to have the opportunity to be in love, to have a wife, to live the best life, despite all the chaos.
And there's so much more to come.