Of blossoms and boys

[il_valentino]

ctd from here...

Cesare disentangles himself from Isabel, steps over to the wrought iron railing. He leans over the edge, forcing himself to droop a bit, arms dangling while he presses halfmoon fingernails into his palms. Then he turns to her, eyes narrowed, and decides to plunge ahead - it's not as if she doesn't know or, at the very least, suspect what's on his mind.

"Daydreaming. Perhaps." He makes a little come, come here gesture, the prelude to a secret that is none, the overture to a wish she knows he harbours. It's all a matter of how to phrase it. Of how to please her while he's pleasing himself.

Once she's close, he leans over to whisper hot against the shell of her ear. "He would do well between us, I believe." His voice is hoarse and drops half an octave. "Perhaps he would taste sweet to you, too, once his legs are on my shoulders."

Comments

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

"Bellissim'," he mutters. If he were less set upon the boy, he'd be happy to take her home now. If he'd even get that far.
The wind picks up a bit, gulls are screeching, and Cesare shrinks into the collar of his light jacket. Purses his lips, waits for that name. "Jonathan," the boy says reluctantly. He must be wondering why he is so much as talking to them. Why he tells them their name. They are not the kind of elderly, tooth-smacking babblers, loneliness overriding decorum, the kind of old women who'll tell you thir entire life when you make the mistake of catching their eye.

"Jonathan," Cesare replies sweetly. "English names sound lovely. It suits you. If you don't mind me saying so." He nods reassuringly. The quick, curt you may leave whenever you wish kind of nod. He sometimes forgets how feudal it looks. But he wants to have the boy, and to have him, he must convince him that he's a free agent, and Jonathan himself the seducer, not the seduced.

Leaning towards Isabel, he widens his eyes in mock-conspiracy. "People-watching, madonna. Ah, I'd rather watch you."

[isabel_giovanni.insanejournal.com]

At the last remark, Isabel shakes her head and smiles, "You have no shame." She is thoroughly enjoying herself; this is different from the other times a vessel stumbles into her net.

Watching them both pull a bit into their jackets, Isabel mimics them even though the wind doesn't affect her as it does them. "Jonathan," Isabel nod slightly in greeting, "if I may be so bold, you are the answer to a great dilemma this evening."

Two pairs of eyes look at her in surprise, and Isabel continues to spin her tale from the air. "My cousin and I are still new to the area, and I..." she leans in and lowers her voice a bit, "am a terrible cook. I have promised Cesare a decent supper that he doesn't have to make, but you see this is as far as we've gotten. Perhaps you can suggest a place."

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

"No shame, she says," Cesare smiles fondly while stroking her hair, smoothing it down her back. "And now she makes me sound like a glutton, too. When it's her who is always hungry." His eyes take in the boy's slender form. Very, very nice. Young men... so supple, with hips like Donatello's David.

"But perhaps..." His voice trails off. "Would you happen to be hungry, Jonathan?"

[isabel_giovanni.insanejournal.com]

"No shame at all," she echoes her original sentiment with a grin. "It's the sea air. It is very invigorating, almost primal, no." Her grin widens, showing off white even teeth that are no different from anyone else's at the moment.

Isabel looks at Cesare and tries to see if he is pulling her leg for her earlier teasing, or if it is more curiosity on his part. Fair enough on either count; she will let him see how easily the Masquerade is held up whilst others dine around her.

"Please," she coaxes when the boy begins to make polite excuses. He wants to, but it goes against so much that has been bred into him. "We are new here and would like to make acquaintances."

Isabel slips her arm into his and smiles after she speaks. "Come, walk between us. Give those watching something to wag their tongues about."

A shy smile and then a laugh accompanies a nod from the boy. I think I could come to enjoy fishing, she thinks as he begins to point out local areas of interest.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

Giovanni de' Medici, even at 16, already was too fat to go hunting. Shortsighted like a mole, too. Yet hunt he did, it being de rigueur for a young man of his station. Hunting with Giovanni, all those tedious pastimes Father forced Cesare to... hunting with Giovanni consisted of sitting on one's arse, next to the giant flabby baby, and wait until the Medici huntsmen had flushed panicked rabbits and deer to stall right in front of Giovanni's arquebus. There was no art in it, no speed. No branches nor brush to whip your face in pursuit. You had to sit and wait next to the dumpling and then give him first shot.

Recalling this, Cesare walks next to Jonathan and almost closes his eyes. His hands are loosely clasped in his back. "Splendid." He smiles, corners of his eyes warmly a-crinkle. "I am glad you are coming along. You can warn us what's a tourist trap."

Behind the boy's back he catches Isabel's eye. "Bellissim'," he mouths. His tongue darts out a little, licks his bottom lip with just a hint of obscenity for seasoning.

"My cousin and I are just fumbling in the dark here, you know? have you ever been to Italy, Jonathan?"

[isabel_giovanni.insanejournal.com]

Her brows rise at that last comment. She did not fumble in the darkness... well, not since learning about dark glasses after the brilliant torture of electrified city streets were imposed upon all of the hunters in the night. For a short time, it had been a genius preventative safety measure for the kine, more so than they would ever now.

She catches the slight stiffening in surprise and flush of embarrassment that catches their prey. Her ears catch the near silent syllables that die in his throat before the more quickly than normal admission that no he hadn't been yet, but was hoping to as part of his university work.

A nod, sympathetic, to the plight. It seems common enough from what she's seen and heard here in the town. Isabel turns to Cesare and gives him a grin that is more hungry than amused. "Shall we spare him, and ourselves, the culinary low points of any supper offered? His mind is in a happy fog enough now, it would be more satisfactory to suggest a cappuccino whilst suggesting places he has to visit when he goes abroad."





eep! If life interferes like it has since the last post, I will club it like a mutant baby seal.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

Cesare's jaw drops a bit at her free manner of speech. For some reason, it reminds him of a torturer showing his tools to a trembling prisoner. Like Miquel flipping out a small knife, one inch underneath Ramiro de Llorca's eye, before happily proceeding to clean his fingernails with it.

"Anything you say, bella mia." He claps a friendly hand on Jonathan's shoulder and leans over to whisper in his ear, warmly, conspiratorially. "She has a way about her, I swear... Hard to say no to her." His spine burns with a pleasant tingle as he watches the boy squirm - before he can relax and laugh with Cesare over their shared mock-confidentiality.

"Just... no Starbucks, please?" Cesare whines a bit. "I am sure I can cook up something better than that."

[isabel_giovanni.insanejournal.com]

She looks at him as if asking 'what?' and smiles privately. Surely he can appreciate not skulking about in shadows and not pretending to be anything less than what you are. Isabel kisses her fingers and then blows the kiss to him when he agrees with her. "Grazie."

Oh he enjoys this, she thinks when he whispers to the boy. She would allow a flush to grace her cheeks, but stops herself, sure that she is not supposed to hear the confidences exchanged.

"Starbucks?" She sniffs in disdain and disbelief. "I cannot believe that you would even entertain going into an establishment named after a whaler."

Isabel's eyes gleam and she can't help but run her tongue over her teeth at his last comment. He is already 'cooking up' something better; she can smell the changes in their blood and hear the newer rhythms of their pulse.

"That sounds like a bet to me," the words are offered in friendly challenge. "Shall we accept it?" Her eyes lock with Jonathan's as he nods and agrees with her.

[il_valentino.insanejournal.com]

He doesn't get her meaning, a whaler? but then he doesn't ask. The less said about those ghastly "coffee shops" the better; the swill they served up ranked well below what dregs he scraped from his small bricco when cleaning in it the morning.

The kiss she blows him makes him purr.

"Oh please, do," he rumbles gently. "You may consider the bet won already." He draws Jonathan a little closer, just close enough before he senses him hesitate and brace himself, then smiles like the cat that got the cream.

"What do I win?"