Twilight
by Michalyn
Pairing: Cesare x Chiaro
For liriaen for the prompt, “Michelotto-centric, your choice of Souryo Fuyumi or You Higuri, with a prompt of ‘twilight’ ” .

Gray light spills onto the marble floor. In the mess of shadows Chiaro can just pick out a familiar silhouette. Cesare is half-turned towards him and the breeze from the window is ruffling his hair. He is not sure, but he thinks there is a ghost of a smile playing about Cesare’s lips as his master beckons to him. The moment stretches between them, quivering as the world hovers between light and darkness. Is the golden gleam he sees the dying sunset or a more sinister fire? Chiaro can’t seem to catch his breath. He rushes forward, love in his heart and his sword half-drawn out of its sheath.

End

The Other Side of the River
by Michalyn
Fandom: Fuyumi Souryo’s Cesare
Pairings: Cesare + Michelotto
Rating: PG
Word Count:854
Notes: Birthday fic for liriaen. Set somewhere during chapter six.
Summary: Miguel knows the real Pisa.

If you want to see the true Pisa … I’ll show you what lies on the opposite bank of the Arno.

Right. Miguel snorted. He rolled the body onto its back with a grunt. The water lapped blackly against the riverbank and he was careful to avoid slipping on the mud squelching underfoot. Instead of taking Angelo through a few stinking alleys, if Cesare really wanted to show their little Fiorentine amigo the true Pisa he should have let Miguel be his guide. Then Angelo would have no illusions about the world he lived in or the man who so fascinated him.

Miguel crouched, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “But he doesn’t want to shatter too many illusions, does he?” he whispered, patting the cheek of the corpse next to him.

The dead nobleman, who was in fact no man at all but a boy of their age, stared blankly ahead. His blond curls reflected silver in the moonlight, the color marred only near the temples where the hair was black with clotted blood. He looked remarkably like Angelo and was beautiful in the pale pretty way of the Fiorentine: large blue eyes … rosebud lips. (The death was recent enough that not all color had faded from the skin.) In fact, in the darkness it was impossible to tell the difference. Yet, Cesare had chosen this one to die and the other to live.

Miguel worked unhurriedly but efficiently, checking the body one last time to make sure he had not missed any hidden documents before tying a weight to the boy’s ankles. The brilliant topaz ring on the lordling’s forefinger he ignored. He never bothered with trinkets. Information was Cesare’s power. Everything else was useless.

Miguel peered at his unfortunate companion. Sometimes he knew who they were. Most often, they were the men of clear strategic importance. Other times like these, he knew nothing of his victims or why they must be eliminated. He only accepted that they fit somewhere in the sprawling schema inside Cesare’s mind.

Miguel dragged the body to the water’s edge and let it roll down the incline. It sank with only a small splash. After yesterday’s rains, the corpse would be carried far downstream by the time Miguel returned to Cesare. They didn’t care if it was discovered. The current would create enough confusion that no one would be able to untangle exactly where the body had come from. “Drownings” were common enough anyway among those foolish enough to venture out alone in these parts—especially among the rich.

Miguel began making his way back towards the city lights. He murdered but he was not indifferent. It was merely that once one knew Cesare nothing as trivial as a single conscience could stand in the way of his vision. One must either yield or break under the force of that will. Besides, there was a part of Miguel that was fascinated by the crude egalitarianism of death. Whether his target wore rags or velvet, they all bled the same; all stank the same in that last ignominious moment when the limbs stopped moving and the bowels released.

Not that Miguel had anything against hierarchy per se. He was more suspicious of innocence.

Once on the bridge, Miguel turned back to watch the vastness of the water. The cool wind tickled the hair about his cheeks and it occurred to him that at every crucial moment in his life he had never been far from a river. As a boy in Valencia he had played beside Rio Turia and now here he was with the Arno rushing beneath his feet.

Of course, why shouldn’t it be so? The Greeks believed the Styx separated the mortal world from the realm of the gods. Most men were fated to shuttle from the earth and back to non-existence with nothing to recommend them. Their lives were banal and narrow, mere flickers on the line of fate. Yet, a golden few like Cesare came from the other side—the side where the gods beckoned. They touched the world once and set it ablaze with their incandescence.

As for Miguel, he was merely the oarsman who would cross the river over and over again, never staying long on one bank, but always in the service of a greater power. He needed no coin as payment. He lived only for Cesare’s touch and his smile. He had always known that the only way to touch a god and not be consumed was to live in his shadow. Most of all, to gain access to that immortal plane a man of ordinary power had but one choice: It was to cross the river—to row the boat and carry the dead over one body at a time.

Miguel quickened his step, blending into the shadows and darting into alleyways Cesare himself had traversed only hours before. The roar of the river followed him all the way back to the estate. Already he was imagining the warm bed and the even hotter embrace awaiting him.

His master was calling. Time to return to the other side.
End

Giovanni’s Monkey
by Michalyn
Fandom: Fuyumi Souryo’s Cesare
Rating: MA
Pairings: Cesare + Michelotto, Cesare + Giovanni de Medici
Warnings: debauchery, dubious consent, abuse of power and a monkey

Notes: Giovanni di Lorenzo de’ Medici would become Pope Leo X, known most for his excesses and his love of animals. He owned an elephant named Hanno and was heartbroken when he died. Leo X is also blamed for spurring the Protestant movement in part because he sold many offices in order to finance various projects.(from Wikipedia)

—————————

Rumor had it that Giovanni di Lorenzo de’ Medici had returned from a visit to his father with a rare monkey. Cesare wanted to see it. No, he was determined to get a glimpse of it.

“What did you say it looks like, again?” Cesare drummed his fingers on the dark wood table. Beside him, a plate of fruit and cheese lay uneaten. His goblet of wine stood half-drunk.

Miguel shrugged. “A funny little thing with a brown tonsure and white breast [1]. Uncannily nimble hands.”

“Hmm.” The staccato rhythm of Cesare’s fingers paused then resumed.

Miguel had mentioned the monkey only because of the excitement it had created among the students, but Cesare had seized upon it with a fascination he could not fathom. There was an unreadable light in Cesare’s eyes and Miguel could not tell if it reflected Cesare’s overactive mind knitting together possibilities, or boyish envy.

Of course, there was no love lost between Cesare and Giovanni and news of an ailing Lorenzo was portentous for both men. Yet, even Miguel could not see what could be gained from the knowledge of a pet, no matter how unique. Besides, the decidedly puckish thrust of Cesare’s lip suggested the simpler cause for the other boy’s irritation. Cesare hated anyone to steal his thunder , even in this most trivial way. The insult to his sensibilities was worse since he held Giovanni in such contempt. As a matter of pride, it meant that whatever was on Cesare’s mind, he would now pursue it even more doggedly.

“I want to see him.”

“Giovanni?”

“No, the monkey.”

Miguel adjusted his farsetto. “Giovanni was showing it off in the palazzo a while ago, but I’m pretty sure he’s retired for the evening. It will be difficult to get into his apartments.”

“Difficult but not impossible.” It was a statement not a question.

Miguel inclined his head.

“Then lets go.”

—————————————-
“I hate him. I hate that damned Buonarroti [2]. Why does Father have him eat with us? Descendant of Mathilde of Canossa my ass. He’s nothing more than a rude commoner!”

Giovanni flopped onto the velvet sofa with a theatrical bounce. “Come to think of it Canossa is the family name of that brat Angelo too isn’t it? Worthless breed, the lot of them.”

“But of course, someone of Your Eminence’s refined sensibilities would be offended by Michelangelo but that is often the way of these artists. He is a bit too brash but it is part of his terribilità. They say he is talented and will be one of the greats,” Roberto, the solemn-faced boy who was Giovanni’s third-in-command murmured.

“Hmph.” Giovanni pouted but immediately brightened when his eyes fell on his new pet. At least Papà could be forgiven for thinking of him. “Come, Pepi! Come to your master!” Clucking his tongue, Giovanni tore off a bit of fig from a nearby bowl and extended it to the monkey.

It darted over, snatched the morsel then scampered to the top of the armoire. It perched there, chittering excitedly as it tore the fruit apart with its nimble little fingers.

“He’s a marvelous creature isn’t he? Father says the merchant who found him claims he’s not from the Moorish lands or further east, but from a mysterious and unspoiled place far far away.” Giovanni’s eyes shone as he imagined jungles with monstrous plants and even more fantastical creatures slinking through the dappled shade.

Roberto nodded sagely. “Sir Pepi is truly a gift worthy of Your Eminence.”

That made Giovanni feel better. He was smug as he tossed another piece of fruit to the little monkey.

Meanwhile, Roberto was moving about, tidying up the room and arranging things to Giovanni’s comfort. From where he was reclined, Giovanni had a nice view of Roberto’s short farsetto and his shapely calves in their forest green hose. When the other boy bent to retrieve a fallen item, his buttocks tightened in a way that sent a familiar stirring to Giovanni’s groin.

The other boy with his reddish gold hair and rosy mouth was pretty. It was the only reason Giovanni kept him around, especially when there were others more interesting and capable than he. Besides, he thought Roberto and his family of petty nobles pitiful. However, certain things made up for those little annoyances.

Giovanni’s gaze slid over to the enticing bulge at Roberto’s groin. Yes, he was very very pretty. Though Giovanni had never scrounged up the courage before to act on his feelings towards other men, he was in an uncommonly bold mood tonight as a result of his pleasure over his father’s gift.

“Roberto….”

“Yes, Your Eminence?”

“Come here.”

Roberto abandoned his task and hurried over to Giovanni. The young Medici licked his lips. He reached over and squeezed Roberto’s crotch.

“Your … Your Eminence!” Roberto slapped Giovanni’s hand away and stumbled backwards. His cheeks were hot with shocked color. As soon as he touched Giovanni, however, a look of horror registered over his features. Roberto immediately fell to his knees, apologizing profusely.

Giovanni reddened as well, embarrassed at being so sharply rebuffed. His cheeks puffed outwards. “How dare you strike me? I could have you hanged and worse for such insolence!”

“I am so sorry, Your Eminence. It was a mistake. I was surprised … I …” Robert blubbered a litany of apologies and explanations into the expensive Perisan rug.

“What are you going to do to make up for your abominable actions?” Giovanni demanded.

“Anything, Your Eminence. I will do anything to receive your forgiveness.”

Giovanni spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture. “Then take off your hose.”

Roberto pressed his lips together, but even so, a choked sob escaped him.

Giovanni watched as he fumbled with his clothes. Roberto still wore the slightly outmoded farsetto with the hose attached to its pleated skirts. The ruff was slightly shorter in the back giving a saucy thrust to the wearer’s behind. Giovanni flushed with satisfaction.

“Leave the farsetto—and the boots.” Giovanni ordered, deciding he liked the look of the short frill framing Roberto’s genitals and reddish pubic hair. He was dismayed though to discover that the other boy’s cock was much larger than his, the girth and length suggesting a maturity Giovanni had yet to attain.

“Come closer.”

Roberto’s face crumpled. “Please, Your Eminence, my family is a simple god-fearing people.”

Roberto’s strawberry curls framing his face and the tears streaming down his cheeks, made him look less like a youth of almost eighteen years and more like a petulant child. It only excited Giovanni further. He pushed aside his robes to expose his own cock.

“Do I need to remind you of your position? Of the grossness of your offense to my esteemed person?”

Roberto shook his head.

Giovanni crooked his finger. “Then come here.”

Roberto continued to beg as he inched over but Giovanni ignored him. He was panting heavily as he circled Roberto’s shaft and touched his finger to the plum-shaped tip, pink as some sweet exotic fruit. Behind them, Pepi crowed with delight at finding another morsel at the table. He leapt onto the couch and hovered near Giovanni’s shoulder, cocking his head and chattering inquisitively.

Giovanni rubbed the blind little opening at Roberto’s tip and the other boy’s hips jerked. His shaft began to rise. Excited, Giovanni repeated the motion and his fingers came away with a faint dewiness. He stuck his fingers into his mouth and suckled that sweet nectar. By then, Roberto was shielding his face behind his arm and a novena of wet muffled sobs escaped him, but he had inched imperceptibly closer. Now, his impressive cock was curved towards his belly in an edifice to burgeoning lust.

“Pl…please, my lord.”

“Turn around.” Giovanni savored the view of Roberto’s pale skin and rounded buttocks. He expelled an eager gust of air through his nose as he spread the other boy’s cheeks with his hands.

Oh this was so much better than his father’s gift.

——————————————–

Miguel’s informant in the Medici household had served them well, Cesare concluded as they made their way through the labyrinthine passage which led to Giovanni’s apartments. The youth had warned them however, that after a day of travel Giovanni might return to his rooms early. That didn’t give them a large window of opportunity but Cesare was feeling reckless. He was not even sure what he was hoping to accomplish but he thought it would be worth it to see the look of panic on Giovanni’s face when he discovered the monkey was gone. He would return it … eventually. Cesare grinned in the darkness.

Miguel was a shadow next to him, moving noiselessly over the rough stone. Alert, he moved like he had been here or in similar places a million times before. Cesare supposed he had. It was why he could count on him.

Cesare studied the dark curls clustered at the nape of Miguel’s neck. Nothing showed in his expression or the line of his shoulders but Cesare knew his companion well enough to recognize sulking when he saw it. Miguel disapproved of this little adventure. He thought it was foolish and ill-thought-out. But of course he didn’t push; he never pushed. Cesare was the one who gave the orders though he doubted Miguel knew how much he wished he didn’t have to—especially when it was just the two of them.

Cesare sighed. Somehow Miguel’s sullen mood only made him more determined to go through with the ridiculous prank. Still it wasn’t nearly as satisfying with his friend being so cool to him.

Cesare reached out and grasped Miguel’s shoulder. “Miguel, I…”

“Shh.” Miguel raised a finger to his lips. He jerked his head to indicate that Giovanni’s rooms were ahead.

They pressed against the paneling, hearing muffled sounds within. Through a clever slot in the wood they could see the room and its opulent furnishings. Cesare expected Giovanni’s penchant for excess. After all, it was nothing new to the Borgia either, but even he was somewhat taken aback by the profusion of silks, tapestries, and jewel-encrusted baubles. Most notable was Giovanni’s apparent obsession with all forms of animalia. The bed was burdened with luxurious pelts of ermine, bear and tiger. The walls and wooden surfaces were cluttered with drawings, paintings and statues of furred, feathered and crawling specimens too countless to name. The entire suite was less like a bedroom and more like the lab of some mad medico. Unsurprisingly, at first, Cesare saw neither the monkey nor Giovanni. Oh but when he did….

Cesare could have crowed.

Giovanni was visible in profile, his puffy cheeks hollowed out as he sucked on the tumescent and surprisingly large cock of a red-haired Florentine. His fingers were not idle and were rooting busily between the other boy’s cheeks.

Cesare had seen the redhead as part of Giovanni’s coterie as the one most often sent to correct poor Angelo’s many faux pas. To Cesare, the youth had appeared meek but reasonable—and attractive of course. Still, he would have never placed him as Giovanni’s favorite.

Or perhaps he wasn’t. The redhead was moaning and squirming even as he begged Giovanni to release him. His cries fell on deaf ears. Giovanni continued to lick and suck to his heart’s content. Next to them the monkey gave a little screech and tossed an orange rind onto the floor.

Cesare had come to teach Giovanni a lesson with a simple prank but this was better than anything he could ask for. To catch haughty whiny Giovanni in flagrante delicto was priceless. Cesare was not about to let such a perfect opportunity slip away from him.

He barely felt Miguel’s hand on his shoulder trying to haul him back. Besides, not even the gods themselves could have stopped Cesare at that point. He sprung the hidden catch and stepped into the room.

“Well, well what do we have here?”

There was a moment of utter stillness as Giovanni tried to understand what was happening. Then his eyes bugged; his complexion went from white to mottled rage in a second.

“Borgia! What are you doing here? I will kill you!” he screamed. Flecks of spittle landed on his cheek and on his companion’s stomach. The redhead burst from Giovanni grasp and hobbled to the door where Miguel calmly intercepted him with a dagger to his throat.

“How dare you? How dare you?” Giovanni raged. He lifted his hand to ring a small bell near his elbow.

Cesare tutted. “Do you really want to call your condottieri? What would they think to see the Great Giovanni de Medici engaged in a vice contra naturam? Or is it that you want more witnesses for the Officers of the Night? I suppose a few florins is a meager fine for the Medici to pay.[3]”

Cesare looked meaningfully from Giovanni’s engorged erection to the redhead’s state of undress. Of course, they both knew the reputational cost of Giovanni’s actions far outweighed any other damage Cesare could inflict. Even that was probably overstated given the Night Office’s permissive attitude.

But, if Giovanni was anything, he was a coward. He visibly hesitated. His hand slowly fell away from the bell.

“Just as I thought.” Cesare nodded. While he spoke, Miguel bolted the door.

Giovanni squealed as Cesare forced him onto the bed. His pale haunches jiggled as he crawled up the mattress and Cesare surveyed his body, so unlike Miguel’s lean-muscled grace with a snort of derision. Weak, weak weak. Cesare reached around Giovanni’s protruding belly and gripped his short thick penis.

“Nn!” Giovanni bucked and let out a squeal of terror.

“Shut up.” Cesare’s hand came down hard on Giovanni’s backside. He squeezed Giovanni’s cock, stroking it in time to the rain of stinging slaps he showered upon his upturned ass.

Giovanni wailed. He snuffled, blubbered and cursed Cesare but he was pushing back against him, raising his hips and thrusting into the hot circle of his palm. He buried his face in the sheets and a moan bubbled from his throat.

Cesare swallowed. He had expected to remain disgusted but lust smouldered and ignited within him. There was something strangely sensual about Giovanni’s slow ponderous movements. His ankles and wrists were delicate. The fingers gripping the sheets were the pale tapered digits of a Botticelli Madonna. The sheen of sweat on his body only increased the allure of that doughy dimpled skin, the soft rounded belly with its generous rolls.Cesare pinched and tugged them until tears streamed down Giovanni’s face and purplish bruises bloomed beneath his skin. Yet he still arched into Cesare’s hand, still called Cesare’s name with abandone.

Cesare fiddled with his hose. He crouched over Giovanni so that the other boy could feel the throbbing heat of him.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it?”

Giovanni’s shudder and his wild cry were all the answer Cesare needed.

——————————————–

Cesare could barely breathe for the guffaws seizing him as they raced over the cobbled stones. He could not contain himself.

“Perfect! Perfect! Did you see the look on Giovanni’s face when we barged in? Ah that was worth a thousand lire. If only there were a way to—”

Cesare stopped, finally noticing Miguel’s silence. He yoked an arm about the other man’s neck with a sigh.

“Come now, don’t pout. You know that means nothing to me. I was just having some fun.” Cesare pressed his lips against Miguel’s cheek; his warm breath bathed his ear.

“You know that, right?”

——————————————–

“I’ll never, never ever forgive them!” Giovanni wailed as he scrubbed at his face. There was seed between his thighs and he ached in unnamable places.

Roberto, all but forgotten, was cowering near the door where Michelotto had left him—the same corner from which the assassin had watched Giovanni’s humiliation with his dark unreadable eyes. The condottiere had not shown a flicker of emotion throughout, even as that hooded gaze had sent a debasing thrill of excitement through Giovanni while Cesare pounded into him.

The young Medici released a bellow of rage. He would get his revenge. As long as there was breath in his body, no Borgia would ever become pope. He swore on it!

Pepi hopped over and offered him a pilfered nut. He gave a little chatter and cocked his head.

Giovanni’s face crumpled.

Pepi’s bright-eyed look seemed to say he understood.