Fic: BREATHE LIKE OUR LULLABY
Rating: PG-13.
(Warning: Incest)
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Sadly.
Summary: Extracted from Borgias Kink Meme: "After the conversation about there's-time-enough-for-pleasure between Cesare and Sforza, Cesare goes back to check on Lucrezia. When he enters the room, she wakes up." Sweet!
BREATHE LIKE OUR LULLABY
“If my passion has been put under a restraint my thoughts yet run free.”
(Letter III - Abelard to Heloise)
For the longest time, he would have nightmares in which the deformed figures of generals, bishops, kings and wicked servants haunted the corridors of their home. If he paid enough attention, he could even hear their nails scratching the walls while they walked and whispered of deaths and blood and plots. “Listen, my son, you must be vigilant, Rome has never been a safe place for our family. You must learn this, Cesare”, his Father would warn in a solemn voice almost as hard as the stomps of the cardinals who paced quickly through the arches and doors of the Vatican buildings, way too busy sending messages and making arrangements. Yes, he would listen. Yes, he would learn. But he would also feel so little and lost there in the middle of that grotesque ballroom of cloths and crosses. He would, finally, wake up suddenly at dawn, sweated and believing he should be capable of holding his desperate heart right between his bare hands to keep it quiet and calm.
“Brother, shhhh…”, her voice was as low as a muffled murmur, just like her palms were impossibly light on his forehead. With a smile, she added “It’s just a bad dream, you silly.”
“Lucrezia?”, the name came out of his lips in the form of a blessing. Sometimes he would dare to believe he actually enjoyed having those nightmares, so when he would wake up, he would feel a somber, but delightful relief. Not even nowadays, though, he ever dares to finally admit his favorite part was opening his eyes and seeing her.
“Help me…”, she ordered shortly, lifting her arms high so he could grab her from the side of the bed and bring her to his lap. He knew she could already climb it by herself, he knew she wanted him to help her, he knew good brothers desired their siblings to be strong and independent. But not him, not her.
“And how come you are awake, little sis? If mom finds out… ”, he smirked, playfully poking her nose and causing her to laugh loud, not that any of them cared about their nightly talks.
“You’re the big boy, but I’m the one afraid of nooothing, you know!” She rested her head on his chest and dangled her small feet fast, softly hitting his legs.
Cesare could bet.
_________
‘There’s time enough for... pleasure.’ He doesn’t trust Sforza. He still doesn’t feel ready to let her go. He’s certain he’ll miss the sound of her breath.
When Cesare comes back to Lucrezia’s room, he tries not to wake her. His steps are tiny and so desperate to hide the clumsiness of his heavy boots; his hands are closely attached to his body, so he’s sure they won’t bump into the curtains, the flowers, the vases, the veils, the wood, the glasses, the wine, the irritating decoration the maids put together for his sister’s first night with her new husband.
He smiles imperceptibly when he glances at her chest rising and falling as he remembers her breathing as his perfect lullaby during those nights in which she would wake him from his troubles and deliver him back to peace and profound sleep. He shakes his head when he finds himself thinking of how her breasts must look under the intricate fabric of the wedding dress.
“Thank you for bringing me here.” Lucrezia startles him, yet her voice is still husky and very low.
“It’s been a long day. I did not mean to disturb you, forgive me, my love.” He feels almost guilty of spoiling her precious rest and turns to leave.
“Stay. Come and lay here with me, brother.” And then she’s the happy girl again, grinning and stretching her hands inviting him to sit next to her. When he does sit, she spreads herself against his whole body, forcing him to lie down completely.
“You are leaving tomorrow morning…” He tries not to sound sad. He fails.
“Yes.” She mumbles briefly, her fingers lazily promenading on top of his vest, picking and pinching the details of the velvet buttons, while his hands tenderly and softly caress her long curls, paying special attention to the hair at the base of her neck.
“I can’t even explain how much I’ll miss you, Lucrezia.” He’s serious now, dark and angry; his voice rough and dangerous and almost unrecognizable.
“You lied to me, brother”, she says abruptly, and receiving his confused and startled look as a response, continues, biting her lips nervously and sincerely asking herself if she should go on “… about Abelard and Heloise.”
“Oh...?” He’s relieved, though. He feared she might have found out about Djem.
“I asked Giulia and she told me their story. Their love was not pure, was it, Cesare? They even had a child together…”, it was not a cruel question. She was teasing him just like she always did. Her legs, already tangled in his, find a way to get even closer. Cesare could swear he felt her hands now rested at a small unclothed part of his belly, where the vest might have come out of place when he opened his arms to accommodate her figure next to him, and could swear they were a bit hotter than usual.
“Donna Giulia told you that?” Only once he had felt this embarrassed: his mother caught him hiding the dozen broken red pieces of one of her favorite earrings that he dropped by accident when going through her things trying to find his little wooden soldier that she had hidden as a punishment for a previous misbehavior. She asked what he was holding and he quickly walked away, hastily saying those were berries. But they clearly glistered as only stones could and he felt so ridiculous and trapped.
“She did.” He was blushing and he knew she could notice it. Her soothing breath was now discretely faster and louder.
“Well, you should not-“, abruptly she silences him with a ‘shh’, laughing coyly. She reaches for his chin and caresses it for some time, eventually replacing her fingers with her lips. A light and chaste, but defiant kiss.
He remembers the shame right after seeing his mother’s disappointed look, but also remembers standing still for a minute, then heading to a table directly in front of her, stopping by it and slowly dropping the shattered pieces of ruby, one by one, swallowing hard and staring directly into her eyes. Yes, he had destroyed her earrings by accident, no, he would not try to deny it anymore.
Cesare soon took her face into his hands and placed a kiss on her lips. He spread his legs wider, taking her small figure in between his thighs. But he didn’t dare to open his mouth, it was a long, heavy, but sealed kiss wrapped by their breathless lungs and audible heart pulses and by her warm hips resting by his waist.
“Promise me… You will visit me.” She pleaded, her brows furrowed and her lips touching his as she pronounced each word.
“I will, my love.” He smiled and caressed her hair, while she laid down on his chest again, sighting.
“I wonder how my new bedroom will be like, brother… I must say I am scared…”, she admitted, looking shyly at her fingernails.
Cesare could bet.
(Warning: Incest)
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Sadly.
Summary: Extracted from Borgias Kink Meme: "After the conversation about there's-time-enough-for-pleasure between Cesare and Sforza, Cesare goes back to check on Lucrezia. When he enters the room, she wakes up." Sweet!
BREATHE LIKE OUR LULLABY
“If my passion has been put under a restraint my thoughts yet run free.”
(Letter III - Abelard to Heloise)
For the longest time, he would have nightmares in which the deformed figures of generals, bishops, kings and wicked servants haunted the corridors of their home. If he paid enough attention, he could even hear their nails scratching the walls while they walked and whispered of deaths and blood and plots. “Listen, my son, you must be vigilant, Rome has never been a safe place for our family. You must learn this, Cesare”, his Father would warn in a solemn voice almost as hard as the stomps of the cardinals who paced quickly through the arches and doors of the Vatican buildings, way too busy sending messages and making arrangements. Yes, he would listen. Yes, he would learn. But he would also feel so little and lost there in the middle of that grotesque ballroom of cloths and crosses. He would, finally, wake up suddenly at dawn, sweated and believing he should be capable of holding his desperate heart right between his bare hands to keep it quiet and calm.
“Brother, shhhh…”, her voice was as low as a muffled murmur, just like her palms were impossibly light on his forehead. With a smile, she added “It’s just a bad dream, you silly.”
“Lucrezia?”, the name came out of his lips in the form of a blessing. Sometimes he would dare to believe he actually enjoyed having those nightmares, so when he would wake up, he would feel a somber, but delightful relief. Not even nowadays, though, he ever dares to finally admit his favorite part was opening his eyes and seeing her.
“Help me…”, she ordered shortly, lifting her arms high so he could grab her from the side of the bed and bring her to his lap. He knew she could already climb it by herself, he knew she wanted him to help her, he knew good brothers desired their siblings to be strong and independent. But not him, not her.
“And how come you are awake, little sis? If mom finds out… ”, he smirked, playfully poking her nose and causing her to laugh loud, not that any of them cared about their nightly talks.
“You’re the big boy, but I’m the one afraid of nooothing, you know!” She rested her head on his chest and dangled her small feet fast, softly hitting his legs.
Cesare could bet.
_________
‘There’s time enough for... pleasure.’ He doesn’t trust Sforza. He still doesn’t feel ready to let her go. He’s certain he’ll miss the sound of her breath.
When Cesare comes back to Lucrezia’s room, he tries not to wake her. His steps are tiny and so desperate to hide the clumsiness of his heavy boots; his hands are closely attached to his body, so he’s sure they won’t bump into the curtains, the flowers, the vases, the veils, the wood, the glasses, the wine, the irritating decoration the maids put together for his sister’s first night with her new husband.
He smiles imperceptibly when he glances at her chest rising and falling as he remembers her breathing as his perfect lullaby during those nights in which she would wake him from his troubles and deliver him back to peace and profound sleep. He shakes his head when he finds himself thinking of how her breasts must look under the intricate fabric of the wedding dress.
“Thank you for bringing me here.” Lucrezia startles him, yet her voice is still husky and very low.
“It’s been a long day. I did not mean to disturb you, forgive me, my love.” He feels almost guilty of spoiling her precious rest and turns to leave.
“Stay. Come and lay here with me, brother.” And then she’s the happy girl again, grinning and stretching her hands inviting him to sit next to her. When he does sit, she spreads herself against his whole body, forcing him to lie down completely.
“You are leaving tomorrow morning…” He tries not to sound sad. He fails.
“Yes.” She mumbles briefly, her fingers lazily promenading on top of his vest, picking and pinching the details of the velvet buttons, while his hands tenderly and softly caress her long curls, paying special attention to the hair at the base of her neck.
“I can’t even explain how much I’ll miss you, Lucrezia.” He’s serious now, dark and angry; his voice rough and dangerous and almost unrecognizable.
“You lied to me, brother”, she says abruptly, and receiving his confused and startled look as a response, continues, biting her lips nervously and sincerely asking herself if she should go on “… about Abelard and Heloise.”
“Oh...?” He’s relieved, though. He feared she might have found out about Djem.
“I asked Giulia and she told me their story. Their love was not pure, was it, Cesare? They even had a child together…”, it was not a cruel question. She was teasing him just like she always did. Her legs, already tangled in his, find a way to get even closer. Cesare could swear he felt her hands now rested at a small unclothed part of his belly, where the vest might have come out of place when he opened his arms to accommodate her figure next to him, and could swear they were a bit hotter than usual.
“Donna Giulia told you that?” Only once he had felt this embarrassed: his mother caught him hiding the dozen broken red pieces of one of her favorite earrings that he dropped by accident when going through her things trying to find his little wooden soldier that she had hidden as a punishment for a previous misbehavior. She asked what he was holding and he quickly walked away, hastily saying those were berries. But they clearly glistered as only stones could and he felt so ridiculous and trapped.
“She did.” He was blushing and he knew she could notice it. Her soothing breath was now discretely faster and louder.
“Well, you should not-“, abruptly she silences him with a ‘shh’, laughing coyly. She reaches for his chin and caresses it for some time, eventually replacing her fingers with her lips. A light and chaste, but defiant kiss.
He remembers the shame right after seeing his mother’s disappointed look, but also remembers standing still for a minute, then heading to a table directly in front of her, stopping by it and slowly dropping the shattered pieces of ruby, one by one, swallowing hard and staring directly into her eyes. Yes, he had destroyed her earrings by accident, no, he would not try to deny it anymore.
Cesare soon took her face into his hands and placed a kiss on her lips. He spread his legs wider, taking her small figure in between his thighs. But he didn’t dare to open his mouth, it was a long, heavy, but sealed kiss wrapped by their breathless lungs and audible heart pulses and by her warm hips resting by his waist.
“Promise me… You will visit me.” She pleaded, her brows furrowed and her lips touching his as she pronounced each word.
“I will, my love.” He smiled and caressed her hair, while she laid down on his chest again, sighting.
“I wonder how my new bedroom will be like, brother… I must say I am scared…”, she admitted, looking shyly at her fingernails.
Cesare could bet.