Subtle---Lucrezia and Cesare
No one knew what he was doing to her. No one knew because no one could see, and no one bothered to look for them. They were always together, everyone knew they were inseparable. So, it made no difference that they'd slithered off together like twining snakes into the tall grass.
He didn't have to push or pull at her, or her clothes. He just knew instinctively that a small caress here, the brush of his finger against her skin there...and she was undone. It didn't matter how many times before, or how many other women would follow. She knew there were others; there had to be. He was a Borgia, and Borgia men could not be sated by anything. Their fires burned hotter, craving power, riches, prestige...women...and all these things were within his hand. He merely needed to close his fist around the world as he did, tangling his fingers in her golden hair.
It was heady, this sense of yet again doing the most forbidden things with the most forbidden (and foreboding) man. It was different from her affair with Paulo. Paulo was a momentary fancy; something to take her mind off the beatings, and the rapes by her brute of an ex-husband, Sforza. But with Cesare---her Cessa, her knight in blood-stained armor, she couldn't resist. He called, she answered. She needed him, like air. Like an addict willing to die for a fix, she moved herself against him, moaning softly, as her head tilted back of it's own accord, baring her slender, pale throat to his mouth. There was nothing for it.
He knew the games he played with her would eventually burn them both to cinders. He'd thought about that long ago, before he made too many of the conscious decisions to move her around the chess board into position. He'd thought about it, and decided he didn't care. There was something pure, in spite of his perversions (and the way he'd perverted her and her innocent love), about their love. He couldn't explain it; perhaps it was nothing more than a memory of a time long since gone, when they were free to chase each other about in their mother's courtyard, and fall into a heap together. Perhaps that's why he'd maneuvered her this way, to have that one thing that reminded him that blood suited people just as well in, as staining the ground beneath their bodies.
He didn't have to push or pull at her, or her clothes. He just knew instinctively that a small caress here, the brush of his finger against her skin there...and she was undone. It didn't matter how many times before, or how many other women would follow. She knew there were others; there had to be. He was a Borgia, and Borgia men could not be sated by anything. Their fires burned hotter, craving power, riches, prestige...women...and all these things were within his hand. He merely needed to close his fist around the world as he did, tangling his fingers in her golden hair.
It was heady, this sense of yet again doing the most forbidden things with the most forbidden (and foreboding) man. It was different from her affair with Paulo. Paulo was a momentary fancy; something to take her mind off the beatings, and the rapes by her brute of an ex-husband, Sforza. But with Cesare---her Cessa, her knight in blood-stained armor, she couldn't resist. He called, she answered. She needed him, like air. Like an addict willing to die for a fix, she moved herself against him, moaning softly, as her head tilted back of it's own accord, baring her slender, pale throat to his mouth. There was nothing for it.
He knew the games he played with her would eventually burn them both to cinders. He'd thought about that long ago, before he made too many of the conscious decisions to move her around the chess board into position. He'd thought about it, and decided he didn't care. There was something pure, in spite of his perversions (and the way he'd perverted her and her innocent love), about their love. He couldn't explain it; perhaps it was nothing more than a memory of a time long since gone, when they were free to chase each other about in their mother's courtyard, and fall into a heap together. Perhaps that's why he'd maneuvered her this way, to have that one thing that reminded him that blood suited people just as well in, as staining the ground beneath their bodies.