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The storm of pleasure passed, leaving Fiore tranquil in its wake. He tucked his head into Enzo’s collar and ran his fingertips down his shivering sides, over his arms, tracing the muscles straining beneath the skin, until he came at last to his hands.
And discovered the crop still clenched in Enzo’s convulsive grasp.
Fiore’s heart sang out. He raised his head ‘til his lips met Enzo’s ear. “Well done.”
Another shiver of pleasure rippled through Enzo.
Fiore smiled against his ear. “You may release.”
Enzo loosed his hold on the crop. It fell into Fiore’s waiting palm.
Just as Enzo threw his newly-unfettered arms around Fiore and clasped him tight.
No embrace could’ve felt more welcome to Fiore in that moment. Enzo wanted him. Even after all that had happened. Enzo still desired him, still sought to please him, still granted him this small control in his otherwise chaotic and disrupted life.
And Fiore could still find it within himself to command.
His heart brimmed over with something he couldn’t name. Rather than try to speak it, he tangled his hand in Enzo’s hair and drew him up for a ravenous kiss.
“You alright?” Enzo murmured against his lips as they parted.
A natural smile found its way onto Fiore’s mouth. “Better than alright. You?”
Enzo, his pupils blown wide, simply nodded and kissed him again.
~
“Maestra Rovigatti wishes to know when you intend to resume your training.”
Carlotta delivered this verbal message alongside the morning post over breakfast some two months after Fiore’s rescue. Most of the pile was for Enzo, but since Artemisia’s visit, Fiore had begun to receive occasional notes from her as well. It felt quaint to take up a correspondence with someone he’d always spoken with in person. Still Fiore couldn’t deny it delighted him to have proof that someone outside Ca’ Scaevola’s walls recalled his existence.
But the message from Maestra Rovigatti, whoever she was, seemed to give Enzo a fraction of the surprise Fiore felt to hear it.
“Tell her she shall have my answer within the day,” Enzo said, after a moment’s pause and a none-too-subtle glance at Fiore.
Carlotta withdrew as silently as she’d arrived.
“Maestra Rovigatti?” Fiore asked when Carlotta had gone.
“My fencing tutor,” Enzo replied.
Fiore had known in a dim and distant way that Enzo had a tutor in swordplay. Enzo had told him of his daily practice. Yet only now did Fiore realize he’d not seen him take up a sword since he arrived at Ca’ Scaevola. The training must, he concluded, have remained suspended throughout his convalescence. Not on his behalf, he hoped. Enzo could hardly continue to love him if he kept him from something he held dear.
“And how will you answer her?” Fiore enquired.
Enzo hesitated. Rather like a hound straining at its leash. Or a cat trapped behind a windowpane, its hungry gaze fixed on songbirds hopping along the sill. But all he said was, “I wouldn’t want to leave you to fend for yourself.”
Fiore doubted much harm could come to him within Ca’ Scaevola’s walls. Still, he thought he had the answer to sate both his and Enzo’s desires. “May I watch?”
After all, watching his beloved perform feats of athleticism whilst stripped to the waist sounded like a delightful way to pass a few hours.
Yet still Enzo hesitated. “I fear I’m rather out of shape.”
“Hardly.” Fiore swept his gaze over Enzo’s handsome form.
Enzo appeared unconvinced. “It’s been months since I last ran up the stair.”
Confusion robbed Fiore of his flirtatious prowess. “Since you last what the what?”
