Important: This chapter  seems quite long because it contains an extra intimate scene. I've long debated whether to cut it or not, but decided to keep it as a belated Valentine's gift to those who might enjoy it. It's at the very end of the chapter, I've marked the beginning so you can simply stop reading there if you don't like it. :)

After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. – Macbeth, having murdered Duncan. Life is a turbulence of cold guilt and burning ambition, ups and downs, a long seizure before the calm of death.

Darkness struck in the short seconds between flashes of lightning, clouds rolling over the dark sky like crashing waves.

A sharp blade of lighting flashed over Lorenzo's face when he turned to finally look at Alessandro.

The inspector had been leaning in the door of his own bedroom for the past dozen minutes now, hesitant to enter after he had found Lorenzo waiting for him. He'd opened his mouth once, getting out half a word before the way Lorenzo's fist had clenched against the window frame had locked it in his throat.

Now that the other turned, the knot in his throat dropped into his chest.

In all their time together, Alessandro had seen Lorenzo angry only once – when Amand had shouted at Laelia defending Marius. Even when Giacinto kept annoying him, Lorenzo would laugh with the Greek. Even when Alessandro kept messing up, because he was so bad at this, Lorenzo was always patient.

But now... Alessandro could see the other was trying to keep his expression neutral, but the tight line of his lips and the hard set of his jaw betrayed him.

Alessandro knew he should explain. He knew he should go and talk to Laelia. He didn't want to talk to any of them. He just wanted to go to bed, close his eyes until the noise in his mind drowned in the darkness.

The past two days had been too much. The fear, squeezed into the tiny confessional with Giacinto, the echo of the Reaper's slow steps tightening around them like a noose, the myriad of mysteries leading them to the letters in Piero's sarcophagus, then loosing those letters – the only hard proof they had – to the Reaper until Giacinto revealed he had double-switched them, the dying gurgle of the man Giacinto had killed so he didn't have to, the Lady Medici's blue fire roaring over them, racing through the night, every snapping twig behind them an assassin in Alessandro's mind, the kiss, the panic following, the fight with Giacinto, revealing that deadly fault of his heart... 

Alessandro was tired.

Another lightning bolt snapped through the room like the crack of a whip, Lorenzo's eyes flashing silver. In his all white clothes, he looked like a ghost against the raging dark beyond the window.

Alessandro didn't want to fight with Lorenzo – he turned into something different when he was angry. His knuckles ached with the echo of impact against bone and marble.

"I'm not happy with you," Lorenzo said, voice tight.

Alessandro nodded, clasping his hands behind his back so Lorenzo wouldn't see how they clenched into fists.

"This is not how a conversation works, Alessandro."

Alessandro said nothing.

"I need you to talk to me!" Lorenzo snapped. "I'm angry, and I'm worried, and I can't tell what's going on in that thick skull of yours! I'm not like you, I don't know what you're thinking! You have to tell me."

The nails digging into his palm were starting to hurt. "I didn't kiss her."

"I know."

Alessandro looked up sharply, finally meeting Lorenzo's eyes. The blond sighed. "You aren't exactly interested in women."

"I still used to –"

"And you promised me you wouldn't anymore." Lorenzo's voice was firm, certain. "That's enough for me. I trust you."

The weight of guilt on Alessandro's chest doubled. "But –"

"I'm angry because you left Lia standing there – do you have any idea how scared she was?"

Alessandro shifted, tensing at the hardness in Lorenzo's voice. "I can imagine."

"No, you can't." Lorenzo exhaled slowly, keeping the anger blazing in his eyes from sparking and catching fire between them. "Your life wouldn't change if anyone else knew. She'd loose everything. A whore, even a noble one, has no place in society. Even if it'd just be a rumour, all those running mouths would eat her raw."

Lorenzo started pacing, the fast click of his heels on the wooden floor in sync with Alessandro's heart. He always underestimated just how dearly Lorenzo loved Laelia.

Lorenzo threw his hands up. "She's engaged, for heaven's sake! Her entire purpose in this life is to get married to my brother. Her own family would ruin her before anyone else would even get the chance if she costs her father this alliance!"

Alessandro's pride bristled. "That is an irrational fear. I would not tell anyone."

"Emotions don't follow logic, Alessandro! That's not how humans work!"

"I would've come back to explain! A moment of fear wouldn't have killed her. Giacinto – "

"Giacinto's a grown man!"

"And this close to drinking himself to death!" Alessandro shouted.

Lorenzo stopped pacing, worry taking over. "Is he alright? I know he likes her, I –"

"He's fine," Alessandro muttered, finally stepping into the room. The door clicked shut softly, his anger fading. "I'm sorry for shouting."

Lorenzo dropped onto a low couch, anxious fingers tugging at a stray hair of the heavy fur blanket. "Me too. I – I can't be angry at you for going after Gio. I know he's more important to you than her, of course you'd worry about him first."

"He's not –"

"Yes, he is, Alessandro," Lorenzo sighed, patting the space beside him. "A blind man could see you two have something special."

Alessandro sat, keeping an arm's length between them. Lorenzo scooted closer, nudging his thigh against Alessandro's. "I just – I love Lia more than anything else in the world. I can't stand to see her cry and I just got so angry at you for running off..."

Lorenzo swallowed, hard. "She means everything to me. I know her since forever. When she started walking, she didn't for her parents, or her nanny. She climbed out of her crib and waddled towards me when I visited. Fell over twice."

Lorenzo laughed quietly. "She's always been there for me, always. She's defended me against my father every single time. She let me braid her hair instead, after they cut off mine because I looked too much like a girl. She's ... she's all I have, Sandro." Lorenzo looked up, so much pain and love and desperation in his eyes Alessandro thought he'd drown. "I'd die for her."

"I didn't mean to hurt her. Truly."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Alessandro waved it off. "I shouldn't have just left her there. I knew she was scared and still I –"

"We don't make the best decisions when we panic." Lorenzo turned to give Alessandro a crooked smile. "Though it's a relief to see even you get overwhelmed sometimes."

Alessandro returned the smile, carefully settling his hand over Lorenzo's. It turned immediately, lacing their fingers together tightly, as if worried Alessandro would run off again. They both had to chuckle.

"I'm angry at Lia, too," Lorenzo said quietly.

Surprised, Alessandro looked up from their joint hands. He liked the way they looked together. "But she didn't do anything."

"She kissed you."

"That's not a crime. She doesn't know we ..."

"The first time isn't. But you moved away -- she knew you didn't want it and still she kissed you again."

The memory of the too soft warmth pushing against his chest rose in his mind, the small hands, the – Alessandro swallowed the panic that rose with it.

Lorenzo had already seen it. "You got scared, didn't you?"

"No."

Lorenzo chuckled, tugging their hands into his lap, tracing Alessandro's bruised knuckles with his thumb. The touch was so light, Alessandro barely felt it. Still, it anchored him. Lorenzo sighed. "It reminded you of all the women years back."

"Why would that scare me?" Alessandro didn't like the defensive edge in his voice. "I chose to sleep with them. No one forced me."

"That wasn't a choice, Sandro. You forced yourself, because you were scared someone would find out about you. Fear takes away the freedom of choice."

Alessandro opened his mouth and closed it a second later when his chest got too tight to speak. Lorenzo squeezed his hand. Alessandro tried again. "I wanted to move away. But I just... I couldn't."

Lorenzo's eyes were sad, but warm. Alessandro grit his teeth. "I hated it. All those years, all those women, I hated it. My friends noticed I wasn't as interested in girls as them and thought I was shy, so they kept shoving me at women when I was drunk. They said I'd get interested after I had a taste. I didn't know I preferred men, so I just ... kept trying. But I hated it."

Alessandro dropped his head into his free hand, trying to force the tremble out of his voice. "And then I knew. That was worse. Because I thought if I suddenly stopped, they'd ask why, and then they'd guess and –"

"You have shitty friends."

Alessandro laughed, shakily. "Now I have no friends."

"You have me. You have Gio. You have Lia. You have Amand, though if I hear him call you an 'arse with a pretty arse' once more, I might have to duel him."

"Don't. He's good." Alessandro leant his head against the man's shoulder. 

Lorenzo huffed. "You forget I almost beat you."

"Almost."

"My point is, you have people that care about you. And I guess Marius counts, too, because you can't not be friends with that angel of a man." Lorenzo chuckled. "He almost exorcized me out of Laelia's room to go and talk to you. If Amand doesn't man up soon, I might have to duel him."

"I'm starting to think you just want to fight him."

"Absolutely. Only Gio gets to be mean to you."

"I'll be sure to run to you when my honour is threatened next time, then." Alessandro looked up at Lorenzo from his spot on the man's shoulder, smiling when the other leant down to give him a quick kiss. Then he hesitated. "Do you like Giacinto?"

Lorenzo groaned. "I had that one coming, I suppose."

Alessandro sat up sharply. "Do you?"

"No. Yes." Lorenzo paused, looking for the right words. "I would lie if I said I never had a bit of a crush on him. But I'm with you. Only you."

Something heavy squirmed in Alessandro's chest. "If you'd rather be with him –"

"I said I had a crush, Sandro. I ... I like you a lot more than that," Lorenzo said quietly. "He was just ... he never gave a shit. If I showed up with painted lips, he didn't even raise an eyebrow. He knew I liked men, women, neither, both, whatever – but he just didn't care. To be fair, I bugged him for an entire year when the poor guy just wanted to drink in peace. But one day I got in some trouble..."

It was Alessandro's turn to give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I got cornered by some drunks. I think my uncle sent them. I'm not bad in a fight, but that was a lot more than I could handle. He just ... appeared, as if out of thin air. Took them all down. He said he didn't like bullies and if I needed better drinking partners, I knew where he was."

That did sound like Giacinto.

"And, to be fair, he looks good." Lorenzo winked.

"His face doesn't work."

Lorenzo had to laugh at Alessandro's indignant frown. "He has ... interesting features."

"That doesn't sound like a compliment."

"I like it. And he's really flexible –" Lorenzo wiggled his eyebrows, "— if you know what I mean."

"I'd rather not."

"You're boring." Lorenzo turned serious again. "All I mean is, I don't like him like that anymore. I like you."

Alessandro was surprised at the relief flooding through him at that. "I like you, too."

"Obviously." Lorenzo grinned. "So you can stop overthinking now." Alessandro was about to reply, when the mischief sparking in Lorenzo's eye cut him off. "Though, if he'd offer and you were interested –"

"Absolutely not." Alessandro almost tripped over his own tongue.

"What? I have a big heart. I can like two people. It'd take some time until I'd like him the way I like you, but –"

"You can't like two people at the same time." Why were they having this conversation again? Alessandro was fairly certain it'd give him heart problems.

"You can like two friends equally, no?"

"...I suppose."

"Maybe you only love one person. I sometimes like more. I'm talented like that." Lorenzo kissed Alessandro's cheek as if he could see the tension rising in him again. "But I'm very happy with you. I just like teasing you every now and then."

Alessandro huffed.

Lorenzo gave him another quick kiss.

Alessandro glared. Lorenzo kissed him again. Alessandro fought to keep the glare. Lorenzo laughed. "Now you're just exploiting my weakness for your handsome face."

Alessandro let himself exploit that weakness a moment longer, finding his own weakness in the way Lorenzo's calloused fingers felt brushing over his jaw when they shared a long kiss, before he pulled away with a sigh. He did have to talk to Laelia, sooner rather than later, even if his stomach tightened uncomfortably at the thought of facing her.

Lorenzo gave him an encouraging smile. "You talk to her, I save the cooks' wine reserves from Gio."

---

Getting to Laelia was harder than imagined. When he entered her room, Bianca looked at him as if he had murdered a puppy and then proceeded to almost murder him. Alessandro had not heard of half the plants she threatened to shove into his pants, but he very much would prefer if no body part of his would fall off and rot or be fed to pigs.

Lorenzo had to carry her out of the room. The bastard had the audacity to laugh at Alessandro's horror.

Father Fromm was almost worse. The disappointment mingling with pity in his soft smile made Alessandro want to hibernate for the next decade and swear to never commit whatever sin it was that had earned him the priest's disapproval. That man could make the worst criminal apologize.

The moment he left, Laelia quickly fought her way out of the blanket she had been wrapped in. "Marius said De Vito always wrapped in him a blanket when he got sad, or worried, or hurt, or scared, so it must work for me too. I'm starting to think the old man wanted to suffocate him," she grumbled, refusing to meet Alessandro's eyes.

He chuckled. "He's trying to help."

"Well, I assume I can't worry if I die from heat stroke." Her laugh was so nervous, it broke Alessandro's heart.

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm sorry."

Laelia tripped over herself trying to say everything at once. "No, I'm sorry, what would you be sorry for? You just stood there -- though mother always says doing nothing is doing something -- but you didn't do anything bad, you just left, which wasn't very nice, but then again, I shouldn't have kissed you that second time, well, probably that first time, too, and Lorenzo really isn't happy and Gio's even angrier with me and if Bianca kills you in your sleep that'll be my fault, too, and –"

"How big are human lungs?"

"Actually, they're really small! They're just always held open by our ribs, but if you cut them free – zoom! – they'll contract very fast because they're so elastic. Why do you ask?" Laelia tilted her head.

"Because you weren't breathing for that speech."

Laelia fiddled her fingers. "Oops?"

"I should not have left without saying anything. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"That's alright." Laelia looked down at her lap, shoulders slumping.

Alessandro carefully settled in the armchair opposite to her. "It's not. I should have explained. I wasn't thinking."

"That's not what they mean with 'making men lose their mind', no?"

Alessandro had to laugh. "I don't think so."

"I'm really sorry, too," Laelia mumbled. "Zo scolded me. He said you shouldn't just kiss people. And you stepped away, so you clearly didn't want that, but I wasn't really thinking either, and that's not a very good excuse, but it's better than no excuse... I can grow your favourite flower in your favourite colour when we're back in Venice, so maybe you can forgive me? I don't have that many friends."

Laelia twisted the pendant of her necklace – Alessandro recognized Antonio's engagement ring. When she finally looked up at Alessandro, the puffy red around her eyes stabbed him in the heart. "Unless you don't want flowers... or being friends."

"I do like flowers." Alessandro smiled when Laelia perked up at that. "And I wouldn't lose your friendship over this. But –" Laelia's face fell. "I don't think of you as anything other than a friend --"

Laelia jumped up to hug him, squealing with excitement, then dropped her arms in the last moment. Her cheeks turned pink again, but she frowned sadly. "I shouldn't hug you. That's what got me into this in the first place."

Alessandro raised an eyebrow.

Laelia sat back down with a sigh, nervous fingers returning to play with the ring on her necklace. "You know ... I always liked Tonio. All my life, I never really thought about it. At first, he was so amazing, and then he stopped seeing me, but I kept hoping maybe he'd stop being so busy, or ..."

"He can make time for you."

Laelia shrugged. "Why? We're already engaged, he doesn't have to court me." She dropped the ring, folding her hands in her lap. "I was never allowed around other men, not really, there was no need since I was already promised to Tonio..."

She squirmed in her seat, rearranging her dress in Alessandro's silence. "I mean, I don't really know how any of the ... things with men and women work. I don't even know what it's like to really like someone. It probably doesn't help that you're very well made anatomically. And..."

Grimacing, she sent Alessandro a shy smile. "I'm not sure how to say this and not sound mean."

Alessandro waved his hand. "I won't mind."

"Zo said you probably don't know because ..."

Alessandro tensed. Lorenzo and he had talked about Laelia knowing. She'd stubbornly keep a secret when threatened with torture, but under normal circumstances she'd accidentally babble about state secretes over tea. Lorenzo loved her, but he knew one wrong rumour could end with both of them at the gallows.

"... because your family isn't really high nobility." Laelia winced, quickly babbling on. "Oh, that doesn't sound very nice at all, I didn't mean it like that!"

"Don't apologize for the truth." Even if it stung Alessandro's pride. They were rich now and his father was one of the candidates for the next Doge, but it hadn't always been like this. His family was old nobility, but had long lost influence and money, until his father had clawed his way back up, building a trading empire across the Mediterranean. Alessandro had gotten his taste in clothing from him, Michele Steno dressed as if he had to remind himself he was someone now.

"I just meant, no man was allowed to touch me without my father's consent. I never thought that you didn't know, so when you always stayed so close and hugged me and even tickled me that one time, I thought..."

"You thought I was expressing interest." Alessandro sighed.

It had never occurred to him to have any interest in Laelia – so he had automatically excluded the possibility of interest the other way around.

"Sorry?" Laelia looked half embarrassed, half amused at Alessandro's mildly horrified expression when he realized his mistake.

"No, no, I'm sorry, I didn't –"

"I think we can stop saying sorry now?"

Alessandro laughed awkwardly. "Yes. Please?"

Laelia nodded, determined. "So we're friends?"

"Yes."

"And you won't just say that because you're polite and secretly be mad?"

"No."

"And you'll stop Gio from murdering me in my sleep?"

Alessandro smiled. "If you'll stop Bianca from murdering me in my sleep."

"Deal."

---

Laelia should have kept Alessandro around as a guard dog. First, she had been relieved he wasn't too mad at her, he had even promised he wouldn't tell anyone, so she wouldn't need to worry about her father anymore.

She had been glad when he left, because she still got a bit of a tingle in her stomach when he was around. And she wanted to just be friends so badly.

But she regretted that decision when Giacinto came. She didn't turn, but the door opened and no steps followed – only Giacinto walked without sound. She'd tried once, back in Florence, focusing so much on her feet she'd run into a column. Maybe he was a ghost.

She could feel the anger rolling off of him in the silence behind her back. Her own anger stirred, she tried shoving the ugly feeling back down -- she was so glad he had come and wasn't ignoring her for weeks again, but ... he couldn't just yell at Bianca like that!

They had been wrong to leave when he had told them to stay, but he hadn't explained anything! If she had known the assassins were out there, she'd never have left. He couldn't just expect her to nod and follow every order he tossed at her in passing.

Laelia huffed. She wouldn't apologize if he didn't.

But what if he really made good on his threat and forced her to stay home when they were back in Venice? She couldn't stop now! The Reaper had to pay. Anxious anger coiled in her chest.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Giacinto. "... Are you really going to not let me come with you anymore when we're back in Venice?"

"Yes." The Greek shot her a cold look from where he leaned against the wall. There was no emotion in his voice – it made those in Laelia's heart boil over.

"But I'm part of this! We're a team!" She rushed to grab his hand, giving it a pleading squeeze. He yanked it free, crossing his arms over his chest.

Huh? In the flickering candlelight fine white lines snaked over his fingertips, standing out against the dark skin. It looked a little as if he had poked his fingertips into a meat mincer.

He noticed her glance, tugging his fingers under his crossed arms.

The dismissal stung. Laelia mirrored his posture, crossing her arms and pushing her chin out defiantly. Fine. If he didn't want to play nice, she could be mean, too. "You can't stop me. I'll just follow you!"

The lazy smile curling over Giacinto's lips was unsettling. He looked like a stranger. "Oh, but I can. Either you stay home on your own or I'll tell your father you're going around throwing yourself at men."

"You can't! I'm not!"

"I'm an excellent liar."

"That's bad!"

"I never said I was a good man either, you just wanted to see one."

Laelia stomped her foot. "Bad men don't feed stray kittens."

"Bad men aren't only evil and no good man is all saint. You'd do well to remember that."

How was he staying so calm? She almost wished he'd start shouting at her like he had with Bianca. He was wickedly indifferent and it made her want to stomp up the walls and throw one of the oil paintings at him. The heavy frames had to hurt. "You can't threaten me! I'll tell Bianca to poison you."

"Do it yourself if you dare," Giacinto smiled. It was as empty as those of the portraits watching them. "I might actually find some respect for you if you succeed."

Laelia thought she heard her heart miss a beat in the silence following his words. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing his words hit the mark.

"Why are you doing this? This isn't you!" She hated how her voice turned thin and high.

"Because I care about you." Giacinto let his dagger spin sharply, cutting through the soft light between them. "I won't let your stupidity cost you your life."

"But It hurts! You're hurting me!"

Giacinto hesitated, but just for a second. "Good. You're a scientist, you'll know all animals remember pain more than good experiences. Necessary for survival. It is an excellent learning tool, too."

Laelia could have sworn he looked pained for a moment. "But they'll grow to resent you."

"I can live with that." His voice hardened again, the moment of uncertainty vanishing.

"But I can't! You're my friend!"

"Better adjust your view then."

"Stop telling me what to do!" Laelia shouted. "You and Alessandro, all the time, you don't even notice! Laelia jump, Laelia stay, Laelia sit, you order me around, I only do what you tell me to, I stay behind all the time! Just because you're a man gives you no power over me!"

"A chain is no stronger than its weakest link." He pushed off the wall, stepping so close she could count his long lashes, dark like khol in the candlelight. Flames danced along the edge of his dagger when he rested it's tip over her heart. "That's you."

Laelia swallowed the knot in her throat. He was right. She wasn't as fast as him or as strong as Alessandro. But she wasn't weak! "I fought the Reaper twice! I stitch you up all the time! You'd bleed to death on your own. Or get poisoned."

Taking a deep breath, she already regretted what she was about to say. Anger pushed it through her clenched teeth anyways. "That boy from the cathedral, maybe you love him, but he'd be dead without me."

Giacinto's eyes blazed with anger for the first time, but he didn't argue.

"Maybe I can't fight! But that's not my fault! No one ever taught me!"

"It's not. But it's not mine either."

"But I'm trying! I made needles. I have my powders!"

Giacinto vanished. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, he was gone. For a second, Laelia thought he truly had turned into a shadow, but then strong fingers closed over her throat, yanking her back against a hard chest. She choked, the pressure on her pulse making her gag.

The razor-sharp tip of his dagger dug into the soft skin below her chin, tipping her head back until she could see him leaning over her shoulder, eyes burning. His cheek was hot against hers. She didn't dare swallow, fearing the dagger would carve her throat open. His whisper was rough. "You can't even stop me, Lia. The Reaper will cut your heart out before it stops beating."

Lia flailed, frantic hands yanking at his arm. He didn't move an inch. "What do your powders do now? Air is not a shield and a needle won't stop an army."

Laelia hadn't noticed she'd started crying silently until she could feel hot, wet tears stream down her cheeks.

Suddenly the dagger was gone, the warmth against her back disappearing with the sharp click of heels. She barely noticed that was the first time she had heard Giacinto's steps make a sound. He tossed a handkerchief at her, wiping his hands dry against his vest, face frozen in an impossible mask of regret and anger.

Laelia swiped at her tears angrily. Swallowing hurt. He had never really pressed down on her throat, only resting his hand there after that initial squeeze, but it still felt wrong. "You can't stop an army either."

"But I can get away. You don't know when to run."

She didn't know when to run. She didn't know how to fight. She didn't know anything. Did she do everything wrong? Laelia clenched her fists, ignoring the sad tug in her chest when she caught the worried glance Giacinto shot at her. "You're just angry I kissed Alessandro and not you."

Ice dropped between them. For a second they both seemed to forget to breathe. That's when Laelia knew she had been right.

"And why would that be?" The smile twisting Giacinto's lips was dangerous.

She had laughed at Bianca grumbling about Giacinto looking like a fairy tale villain from a strange far-away land. Now she could see it. Shadows seemed to be denser around him, in his black clothes and dark skin he was one of them, all colour fleeing from him. Only his strange green eyes blazed like poisoned fire. Laelia could still feel the cold blade against her skin.

"Cat got your tongue?" He sounded tense.

Laelia stomped all over the uncertainty in her heart. "Because you and him have that stupid male rivalry!"

She narrowed her eyes at the way his shoulders seemed to slag ever so slightly with relief. Why would he be glad she said that?

The Greek's impassive behaviour only fed her anger. "But I don't like you! I would never like you! No one would! You're mean. And you drink, and then you stink like ... like a Dionysian madman!"

"Sorry, he takes women." Giacinto gave a hollow laugh. "A shame, really. Immortal madness, there's worse fates."

"And you never tell anyone anything about you! I don't know who you are!" She laughed at the fleeting hint of shock twisting his features. "Maybe you're a wanted murderer! Maybe you're with the Reaper, lying to all of us!"

"Maybe I am." Giacinto's voice was awfully quiet.

Laelia ignored it. She ripped her gloves off -- the gloves he had gifted her -- hurling them at him. They made a sound like a slap when they hit his chest.

"You have no right to tell me to stay locked up in my father's palace! Because you have no right to care for me!"

Giacinto dropped his dagger for the second time today.

That was almost enough to put out her fire. Almost. And not soon enough. Laelia jumped when the door slammed behind him.

That's when the fire died, in the empty, giant silence all around her.

Her heart still beat too fast, fighting off the wave of emotions threatening to crash over her. She stood in the middle of the room, tightening her fists until she could tell herself her eyes only stung because her nails dug into her palms. Until the candles died out around her one by one, she didn't dare to move.

Only hidden behind the veil of darkness, finally crawling in her bed and hiding from the world under the covers, she allowed herself to cry.

Stupid Alessandro. Stupid Gio. Stupid Reaper, stupid mother, stupid secrets.

Stupid Laelia.

----

Alessandro found Giacinto on the roof, a sea of stars at his feet.

The storm had passed, leaving behind giant puddles to catch the twinkling stars. The air was light and crisp, as if the rain had washed away all sorrows. The stars trembled when Alessandro stepped into a puddle, sending ripples across the surface. Giacinto turned his head, offering a half smile.

He was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the balustrade, long legs crossed at the ankles, an arsenal of half empty bottles next to him. Alessandro shook his head, but sat down next to him, grimacing when the still half wet ground dampened his pants. "You'll catch a cold."

"It's an experiment to see whether you'll give in to your motherly instincts and feed me chicken broth," Giacinto said drily, taking a long swig from a wine bottle.

"I can't cook." Alessandro took the bottle away from him. "And you need to drink less."

Giacinto snatched it back. "Over my dead, drunk body."

Silence settled between them, Alessandro waiting for a snappy retort that never came. Giacinto stared ahead into the dark, occasionally taking another swig. Something had to be seriously wrong if Giacinto didn't take the chance to make fun of Alessandro.

"Lorenzo said you and Laelia had another fight," Alessandro tried carefully.

Giacinto snorted, the bottle that had been halfway up to his lips again slowly sinking back into his lap. "I don't need you to pity me."

"Good. I won't. Fix it tomorrow." Alessandro didn't want to know how much the Greek could drink before his words would start to slur together.

"Don't want to."

Alessandro remembered how worried Laelia had been, scared the Greek was too angry at her. How had it ended with Giacinto hiding on the roof?

Giacinto let his head drop back against the wall, sighing. "I messed up, giant."

"You do that a lot." Alessandro ignored the glare Giacinto sent him. "But you always find your way out of it."

"I just meant to see if she was alright. I saw the light from her window, I thought she couldn't sleep." His fingers tightened around the neck of his bottle.

"What happened to her and Bianca is not your fault."

"It is."

"No."

"Yes."

"No." A smile tugged at Alessandro's lips.

"Yes," Giacinto huffed.

"No."

Giacinto gave in, laughing. "Screw you." He elbowed Alessandro. "You weren't supposed to make me laugh. Let me sulk in peace."

"You didn't send the assassins. You told them to stay in the ballroom with the guards. It wasn't your fault. And in the end, you got all of us out."

"Stop being rational," Giacinto grumbled. "I... maybe I should have told them why they needed to stay. But –"

"Laelia is too curious. She would have gone."

"Now she thinks I belittle her because she's a woman."

Alessandro turned his head, watching the emotions play across Giacinto's face. His hair was still slicked back, giving him a sharp profile against the moonlight. He didn't like it. When Giacinto was distracted, swirling the rest of wine in his bottle, Alessandro quickly reached out and ruffled it out of its restraints. Battling his hands off, Giacinto gave him a confused look.

"Your hair offended me," Alessandro muttered. Grimacing at the oil now sticking to his fingers, he searched for his handkerchief. "Can you—" He gestured at his pocked, not wanting to smear oil over the silk jacket.

"Serves you right." Giacinto stuck his tongue out, but fished the handkerchief out for him.

They were quiet for a moment, but then Giacinto turned, eyes wide. "What if she hates me now?"

"She asked me the same thing."

Giacinto hesitated, nervous fingers drawing wild patterns on the half empty bottle. "She almost died, because she didn't listen. ...because I wasn't there fast enough. I got scared."

"I know." Alessandro sighed, pushing on despite the knot in his throat. "You saw what I did to that man. I – I almost killed him. We don't think when we're afraid."

He could feel Giacinto's careful eyes on him as he continued. "She doesn't know how worried you were. To her, you blew up at them out of nothing. Just explain."

"She won't listen." Giacinto shook his head. "When I came to Venice ... she was my first friend. My only friend, for the longest time. I don't want to lose her." He dragged a desperate hand through his hair, messing the curls up even more. "I can't lose her."

Feeling there was more to it, Alessandro stayed silent. When Giacinto didn't continue right away, he turned to see a single tear roll down his cheek. "She said I had no right to care about her."

That felt like a punch even to Alessandro. He had seen how much Giacinto cared, showing it in his own way, getting her the finest gloves when he saw her hands burnt and stained from her poisons, finding the city's best tailors for her dresses when he himself just wore the plainest black, bringing her sweets when she was holed up in her room after she had thought Antonio had sent the snake that almost killed her.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Giacinto cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. The Greek took an angry gulp of wine, wiping at his stained lips. Alessandro pried the bottle from his fingers. He couldn't help the shiver running down his spine when he felt the cool glass. Squeezing his eyes shut, he lifted it to his own lips.

The wine was strong, the rich sent pushing up his nose, almost thick sweetness spreading in his mouth. Alessandro coughed, bile rising. The night seemed to spin away from him, until bones cracked in his ears like a metronome, never stopping, blood staining his knuckles, his face –

The bottle was yanked from his fingers. "What are you doing?" Giacinto sounded angry.

Alessandro took a slow breath, focusing on the rough stone under his palms. "I – you shouldn't drink alone." It sounded pathetic even to him.

"And you don't drink!"

"I was trying to –"

"Don't. You won't make me feel better by forcing yourself to drink." Giacinto's voice was hard, leaving no room for arguments. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Alessandro shook his head, trying to force down the urge to scrub his hands raw. There was no blood on them. Murderer. Daniele's voice seemed to echo all around him on the soft breeze. "I –"

"You don't have to tell me." Giacinto waved it off as if it was nothing. He settled a hand on Alessandro's thigh, giving him a squeeze. "Just – are you alright?"

Taking a shaky breath, Alessandro nodded. "Of course."

"Of course, my ass." Giacinto rolled his eyes. Then he yanked his hand away as if burned. "Oh, right, I'm sorry, that's probably awkward now that I know--"

"We're friends, I don't mind. It's your call."

"...right. Oops?" Giacinto bumped his shoulder against Alessandro's. "Thanks."

"What for?"

"Being the annoying voice of reason," Giacinto joked, but quickly sobered up. "Being there. Being you."

"Always."

A breeze rose, rustling through the leaves of the trees below them. Alessandro enjoyed the silence, closing his eyes. Giacinto's thigh was warm against his, the slow wind brushing his hair like a caress.

"My father used to take me star-watching."

Alessandro opened his eyes again. The Greek was looking up at the sky, thousands of stars in his dark eyes, dancing with the glitter of lost memories.

"There's towers all along the coastline, to spot enemy ships. He'd sneak me out of the palace, because my mother was always worried we'd get ourselves in trouble. Out there ... there's no lights at all, the sky is so dark and wide and there's so many stars..."

A king and crown prince sneaking out like thieves, going on adventures – his father must have loved him dearly.

"Sometimes, when there were no clouds at all, the stars reflected in the sea. The tower was right at the cliff, it felt as if you were flying through the stars." His voice wavered at the end, swallowing hard.

Giacinto smiled up at the sky. "He'd tell me stories about the gods and monsters that turned into constellations. I always missed the ending because I kept trying to count the stars."

Alessandro laughed quietly.

"The old gods turned those they loved into stars so they'd never be without them. He said I should do the same. I don't think he thought he'd be the first I'd have to find a star for," Giacinto whispered. The longing in his voice broke Alessandro's heart.

"Show me."

Giacinto hesitated. "You're being nice."

"I like stars." Pride warmed Alessandro when Giacinto perked up at that. "He's a merchant. He wanted me to know how to navigate by the stars."

Giacinto took one last swig. His hand shook, from alcohol or the memories, when he pointed up at the sky, fingertip settling over a small dot of silver. Alessandro recognized Perseus. Giacinto brushed over the constellation, tracing Taurus' horns and Orion's sword until he reached another star. "That's Alexandros."

The stars slowly spun around them, moving with the night, as Giacinto showed him his brothers and sister, his mother, connecting the stars to memories. Alessandro had to laugh at Giacinto's scandalized expression about his brother's hunting dogs always chasing his cats. "He lets them sleep in his bed, Steno! They slobber! They're always excited! It's disgusting."

"Why don't you go back?"

Giacinto's smile fell. Alessandro regretted the question instantly.

They had come so far. Giacinto would snap at him, Alessandro's acid curiosity burning through the peace between them.

But Giacinto didn't. He hesitated only a moment. "I don't want to be king."

"Then abdicate."

"I can't. I have to – my brother is next in line. If I step down, he'll be the Regent's target."

All this, just to keep his siblings safe. "You acted out so he'd only focus on you."

Giacinto shrugged. "He always focused on me, I was the only threat to his claim to the throne. I just made sure it stayed that way. Not like it was hard, I always got in trouble anyways."

"But... you're gone for so long. Wouldn't they have long crowned your brother?"

"That's where Antonio comes into play. It's a little eerie sometimes... that man can bend reality. Officially, I'm being held hostage by some wild tribe in god-knows-where, Barka. I think he's telling the people I'm in a monastery after some enlightening dream, until I'm worthy of the crown."

There was no joy in Giacinto's laugh. "As long as I'm still alive, he has an excellent excuse to stay in power and keep my brother from the throne. He'd rather use the opportunity to cement his power than pick a fight with a second prince."

Giacinto always appeared so .... haphazard. He did what he wanted, he caused mischief for the hell of it, he came and went whenever he pleased. This scale of calculation, manipulating king and country, letting them believe things were going their way ... Alessandro had a feeling he was only starting to get to know the true Giacinto.

Alessandro nodded. "Clever."

"Of course," Giacinto grinned his razor-sharp grin. It shattered when he looked back up at the stars. "I miss them."

They returned to comfortable silence, watching the stars.

"I'm yeast."

Alessandro chocked on a laugh. "What?"

The sharp herbal scent of ouzo stung Alessandro's nose. Where did he keep getting alcohol from? Giacinto wiggled his flask out of Alessandro's reach. "Mine."

His words slurred together now. "I'm yeast. I want to be in a warm place, covered and left alone."

An incredulous laugh escaped Alessandro, even though he tried to hide in a stern scoff. He got up, dusting off his pants and offering a hand to Giacinto. "Alright, you're drunk enough. We're getting you to bed."

"I do what I want," Giacinto whined. He jumped to his feet, surprisingly agile for how much he must have drunk by now.

"We leave tomorrow morning. You need the sleep."

Giacinto swayed slightly, steadying himself against Alessandro. The moonlight drank all colors, Giacinto's hand black against Alessandro's white skin.  Giacinto laughed. "Look. We're chess figures."

Then one of them would have to fall.

He looked down at the Greek, who suddenly refused to move, staring up at the sky with narrowed eyes. He pointed up at Leo's brightest star – Regulus, the King, Alessandro remembered.

"That's you," he whispered.

----

Returning from the battle of trying to get the drunk Greek to sleep at least a few hours, Alessandro was halfway to the dresser, jacket already half off, before he noticed Lorenzo reclining on the chaise lounge. His steps faltered, hands dropping from the buttons.

A dozen candles flickered behind the other. Alessandro narrowed his eyes – half burnt down. He must've waited for over an hour.

"Always the investigator," Lorenzo laughed softly, pushing up and slowly walking over to Alessandro. The candlelight caught the soft strands falling around his chin. Alessandro reached out to tug them behind his ear.

Lorenzo caught his hand, pressing a slow kiss onto the inside of his wrist. "You didn't sleep well yesterday. I thought I'd stay with you today."

His sincerity made Alessandro melt. "Thank you."

He turned back to the mirror, working on the rest of the buttons. He didn't get very far before he could feel Lorenzo's warmth against his back, arms reaching around his waist to pull him against a strong chest. "Let me." Lorenzo nudged his hands away, sly fingers slipping the jacket open.

Alessandro looked up, eyes locking with Lorenzo's in the mirror. The intensity of his gaze sent a low tingle through his chest. It spread lower with Lorenzo's fingers undoing the last button. The air grew hotter, Alessandro's breath quickening.

A slow smirk spread over Lorenzo's lips. His hands dropped to Alessandro's waist, pulling him back against him. Nosing at the spot below Alessandro's ear, he whispered: "Bed?"

Alessandro tensed against the shiver following Lorenzo's lips brushing over his neck. He clasped a hand over Lorenzo's, trapping it before it could slip under his shirt. "I –yes. No. Well—"

Lorenzo chuckled. "Prude." Then his eyes softened. "I know I can be a bit much sometimes. Tell me if you're not comfortable."

"That's not it." Alessandro shook his head. "You're – you're usually doing the..." He cleared his throat.

Lorenzo stepped back, allowing Alessandro to turn in his arms. Alessandro was surprised at the amused spark in his eyes. "You can say 'fucking', it won't kill you."

"That's –"

Lorenzo rolled his eyes, leaning up to kiss his chin. "Little prude. But yes, I do."

Alessandro shifted, trying to find the right words. Lorenzo knew right away, grimacing with surprise. "You too. My bad, I thought – you always let me ..."

To be honest, Alessandro had only realized in hindsight Lorenzo had always been dominant with him. He'd been far too occupied with Lorenzo's mouth and hands.

A grin replaced the embarrassed surprise on Lorenzo's face. "I don't mind. Consider yourself lucky, I only roll over once in a blue moon."

Alessandro was certain his head had caught on fire. He groaned, dropping his head against Lorenzo's shoulder to hide the redness spreading over his cheeks. This was more embarrassing than the time his five year old self had asked the duke why his wife wanted to undress the guard.

Lorenzo laughed, patting his head. "You have to talk about these things, Sandro. I'm glad you told me. That would've been far more awkward to discover later." He traced a slow finger down Alessandro's neck. "You're missing out though. I've been told I'm good."

Alessandro fled to the bed, chased by Lorenzo's laugh.

He felt the mattress dip beside him as Lorenzo stretched out beside him. When he turned his head, the other was already watching him. His heart jumped at the softness in Lorenzo's eyes, the smile on his lips traced in the golden glow of the dying candles.

Lorenzo's smile grew – Alessandro found himself returning it without thought. Neither of them spoke. The flicker of dozens of candles shone in Lorenzo's eyes. As if the stars had fallen around them.

Lorenzo shifted onto his side, reaching out to brush a loose strand from Alessandro's forehead. Alessandro closed his eyes against the featherlight touch, turning his face to press a kiss against the other's palm. There was something so calm, so warm about this moment, Alessandro wanted drift to sleep and dream of it. Perhaps they had fallen asleep and all of this happened far away, safe and warm, in a bubble of childhood dreams.

Lorenzo's fingertips drew the lines of his face like a delicate painter. He didn't kiss Alessandro. Somehow, the single brush of his fingertips was more intimate.

He traced Alessandro's jaw with something so close to reverence. The glow of the candles caught in his eyes as Alessandro kissed the fingertip following the dip in his cupid's bow. His fingers ghosted down Alessandro's neck, then over his collarbone, down his side, lighter than a feather. Even when Alessandro's eyes fluttered close, he could feel Lorenzo eyes on him.

Lorenzo reached Alessandro's hips, hand settling over his hip bone, thumb brushing back and forth over the dip above. "May I?"

Alessandro didn't even open his eyes, just nodded. This was perfect. It was warm and slow and gentle. Lorenzo still didn't kiss him, and still Alessandro loved it even more. Lorenzo hummed in response, careful fingers slipping under the hem of Alessandro's shirt. Alessandro could feel him shift closer, his warmth like a sun at Alessandro's side.

Is this how Icarus felt? Sun-warm hands melting his heart, his life. Falling. Smiling.

He opened his eyes to find Lorenzo had pushed up on one elbow, gaze flicking back and forth between his hand and Alessandro's face. His fingers grazed Alessandro's waist, the light touch sending shivers up Alessandro's spine. He followed the curve of his ribs back to his stomach, followed the dips between muscles so slowly, as if he wanted to commit every inch to memory, stopping whenever the muscles tensed under his fingers, exploring until he found the same spot again. By the time he reached Alessandro's chest, shirt pushed up as far as it would go, Alessandro was breathing like he had run a mile.

Lorenzo's index traced the dip below his pectoral, then dragged back slowly, firmly, the sudden change in touch making Alessandro groan. A heavy palm settled against his ribs, thumb brushing back and forth, stalling, Alessandro falling back into the delicious laziness. The second his eyes fluttered close, the thumb found his nipple, rolling hard. Alessandro's eyes flew open.

Lorenzo's eyes burned into his. "Still alright?" Lorenzo asked, voice too soft for the sinful wickedness of his fingers ghosting over Alessandro's chest.

Alessandro opened his mouth to reply, but a flick of clever fingers turned his words into a breathy groan. "You planned this," he finally gritted. It took too much focus to just arrange those three words. Lorenzo grinned.

Lorenzo shifted a leg over Alessandro's, tangling them together, hand sliding down Alessandro's waist, palm settling firm and heavy against his hip. When Alessandro didn't move away, Lorenzo nudged his knees apart with his own. Then he stilled again, let the intent hang heavy over them. Alessandro took a moment, then let his legs fall open, Lorenzo rolling over, settling between them.

Their eyes locked. The burning desire in Lorenzo's knocked a breath out of Alessandro. Still, his hands were gentle, slow, almost innocent in their slow mapping out of Alessandro's torso. Lorenzo ducked his head, catching Alessandro's lips in the softest kiss. It was little more than a peck, but Alessandro's head started swimming.

When Lorenzo's lips reached his neck, free hand returning to his chest with it slow torture, Alessandro arched into the touch, mouth falling open, head thrown back with a low moan. Lorenzo's hand wandered down again, slipped behind Alessandro's back, made him arch up against him, Alessandro drowning in the weight of Lorenzo's hips against his, the feather-light touch of his lips kissing down Alessandro's chest.

Lorenzo didn't seem content with Alessandro's breathy pleasure, tongue dragging over his nipple, followed by firm lips, sucking until Alessandro's fingers fisted into the sheets, head tossed back so far his throat ached, low groans spilling from his lips. Lorenzo's hips found a lazy rhythm, dragging against his, white pleasure searing through Alessandro's brain until he knew nothing but Lorenzo's weight against him, the warmth of his hands and the heat of his mouth.

He'd fall apart right then and there.

Lorenzo stopped.

Alessandro opened his eyes, finding Lorenzo look down at him with a torn expression. The blond shifted, hissing slightly when they brushed against each other. "Are you alright?"

Only after blinking a few times against the dancing light of the flames, Alessandro made sense of the question. "Yes." His voice sounded foreign, too deep, too rough.

"I –" Lorenzo hesitated. "Can I touch you? I know you don't roll over, I just mean – " He glanced down between them. "I want to take care of you."

Alessandro's felt like he had swallowed the sun, warmth bursting in his chest. He pulled Lorenzo down for a kiss. Alessandro knew he could tell Lorenzo to get up, leave the room and not come back and Lorenzo would. "I trust you."

Lorenzo blinked, surprised, grinned, then kissed Alessandro as if he wanted to devour his soul.

Fire crept up Alessandro's stomach as Lorenzo kissed down his jaw, his neck, his chest, his stomach. Lorenzo took his time to make Alessandro sigh and shiver, mapping out every stretch of muscle with his lips. Clever fingers worked on the laces of his waistband, teeth grazing over Alessandro's hipbone. Lorenzo looked up a last time, eyes suddenly so soft and careful. They shone an even brighter blue against the golden backdrop of the dying light.

"You're beautiful," Alessandro murmured, freeing his fingers from the sheets, burying them in Lorenzo's hair. "Please."

And then everything was hot and impossibly slow, until Alessandro felt like he could no longer breathe, gasping for air as his heart swallowed his lungs.

When he blinked back to reality, Lorenzo had settled back next to him, pressing lazy kisses against Alessandro's shoulder. Alessandro turned his head to take him in, all red lips and tousled hair – Alessandro's cheeks burned at the memory of white knuckles buried in the blond strands as if it was his only anchor to reality.

Lorenzo's lips twisted into a grin against his skin. "You should be painted like that," he whispered, voice still rough with fading desire.

Heat shot up Alessandro's cheeks again. "Absolutely not."

"Shame." Lorenzo rolled onto his back with a sigh. "You looked stunning."

"Don't." Alessandro groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt around blindly, lifting Lorenzo's hand to his lips, kissing his palm, playing with his fingers.

"Hey, I'm trying to calm down here," Lorenzo chuckled.

Alessandro cleared his throat. "Should I –"

"Nah. This was about you."

Alessandro opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly found his throat too tight. He tried again, breath shuddering out of him.

"Sandro? Are you – oh god, I shouldn't have – was it the teasing? I didn't mean that, it was just a joke, I wouldn't –" Lorenzo sat up fast, brushing careful fingers over Alessandro's cheeks. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry, it's alright –"

Alessandro curled his hand tighter around Lorenzo's. "I'm fine – I –"

Lorenzo looked down at him, helpless. "Is there anything I can do? I'll get you a glass of water –" 

When Alessandro looked up at Lorenzo's startled, big blue eyes, wide with concern and so much warmth and understanding, he knew why.

"I –" He cleared his throat, shifting until he could rest his head in Lorenzo's lap. Lorenzo's fingers combed through his hair immediately. He closed his eyes. "You said it was about me."

"It was." Lorenzo sounded confused.

Alessandro chuckled, taking a slow breath. He could do this. He could get it out. Lorenzo would understand. Lorenzo always understood. "It was never about me. All the women, it ... it didn't matter what I felt like, it was just – as long as I gave them enough to talk about the next day, I'd be fine."

Their gossip had been his armour. It hadn't mattered if he had wanted to throw up when he pressed into them, when nails dragged against his shoulders and the voice in his ear was too high. It didn't matter whether he took baths afterwards, scrubbing his skin raw, as long as they talked.

Lorenzo's eyes were big and sad. Alessandro looked away. "You ... you took so much time." No hurry, no fear of getting caught, just time to love the person beneath one's fingertips. Time to drown, time to feel.

There had never been time. Back in Venice, fear had put a swift end to most of his male encounters. Kisses rushed half by panic, half by need, the hectic rustle of clothes being thrown on again, the quick echo of boots down the hallway when they left. The quick hammer of his heart when Alessandro, alone again, sunk down against a wall and cried.

Because every creak of the floorboards outside made him imagine his father walking in, taking one look at him and knowing. Because this was wrong, he wasn't supposed to want this.

Because he'd given in again.

"You deserve all the time in the world," Lorenzo whispered.

Alessandro struggled to smile. "Stay the night?"

"If you think I'm leaving you like this you're even dumber than Gio says you are."

"How lovely you are." Alessandro rolled his eyes.

"Want me to remind you?" Lorenzo winked, poking Alessandro's cheek.

"I have a good enough memory."

It was Lorenzo's turn to roll his eyes. "You may be a genius, but you suck at flirting."

"You're good enough for both of us."

Lorenzo huffed, incredulous. "You're not charming your way out of this."

"I am," Alessandro said, pulling down Lorenzo against his chest. "Just stay."

"Always."

The weight of Lorenzo's head against his shoulder, the warmth of his breath tickling his chest, it meant more than Alessandro dared to admit. No one had ever stayed.

They couldn't, he knew, it was too dangerous. Still. This was all he wanted, even though he knew he shouldn't.

When he woke again, he was alone.

He patted the sheets around him, but they were cold. He sighed, something heavy dropping in his chest. He wasn't disappointed. He wasn't. He knew Lorenzo had to leave before morning.

Still, the silence in the room, the cool grey of early morning seeping through under the curtains, the lonely pillow abandoned next to him ... Alessandro shook his head, swinging his legs out of bed. There were more important things to focus on than his own weak desires.

A chill tickled his chest, shirt still half opened from the night before, a dark mark above his heart greeting him when he glanced down to lace the shirt back up. His fingers tightened painfully against the laces when the door creaked open, trying to hide the bite.

Lorenzo's head poked through the door, smiling when he spotted Alessandro. He quickly twisted through the small opening, locking the door as quietly as possible after him. "Good morning."

Alessandro frowned. Why was he here again? Lorenzo was all dressed up, blood stains gone from his blouse, boots polished, rings twinkling when he gave Alessandro a little wave.

Lorenzo's smile fell. "You thought I had left."

Alessandro didn't reply.

Lorenzo set a pile of dark silk down onto one of the drawers. "Your jacket. I – it was on the floor all night and got crumpled, so I brought it to one of the maids to iron. I thought you wouldn't be comfortable if it was obviously wrinkled."

Alessandro looked up from where he had been inspecting the blanket pooling in his lap. He did not deserve this man. "I'm sorry."

Lorenzo shrugged. "Not a big deal."

"It is." Alessandro sighed. "You're a wonderful man. You're kinder than you should be, to everyone. You always give and you never – I'm sorry. Truly."

Lorenzo stepped closer, nudging Alessandro's knees apart to stand between them. Running a hand through Alessandro's hair, he said: "Trusting doesn't come easy to you. I understand. You're trying, that's enough."

"Your father doesn't see you." Alessandro's voice hardened. "I won't make the same mistake."

Mischief sneaked into Lorenzo's eyes. He pushed at Alessandro's chest, and Alessandro's back hit the mattress before he could blink, Lorenzo climbing into his lap. He was heavy against Alessandro's hips. "Then why don't you really see me?"

"I am seeing you." Alessandro attempted to sit up, but Lorenzo settled his hand against his chest, slowly pushing him back down.

"Are you?" Lorenzo ran his index down the middle of Alessandro's chest, shirt still half open. "I feel a little overdressed here."

"Perhaps I am simply underdressed." Even when he said it, Alessandro's eyes betrayed him, tracing the lines of muscles against Lorenzo's trousers, the fabric stretched taut with Lorenzo's knees on either side of his waist.

"You're supposed to say 'We can change that'," Lorenzo groaned.

"You said there's no such thing as overdressed." Alessandro's fingers followed his eyes, brushing up the strong thighs, delighting in the way the muscles shifted under his touch.

"Yes, but not like that – don't use my words against me, Inspector."

"Anything you say can and will be used against you."

Lorenzo smirked, leaning down until his whisper tickled Alessandro's ear. "I'll only say your name then."

Alessandro had to laugh. Lorenzo laughed with him. "What? Let me enjoy the little time I have up here."

Alessandro raised an eyebrow, Lorenzo rolling his eyes. "Your biceps is the size of another man's thigh. The second you want to turn this around I have no chance."

"That is an exaggeration."

"It's really not. Now," Lorenzo leant down to kiss him, "we have roughly three hours before we're leaving. So –"

Alessandro curled his fingers into his collar, yanking him down for a deep kiss. Lorenzo's mouth slid open against his, slow heat spreading between them. Using his grip on Lorenzo's shirt as leverage, Alessandro twisted them around, trapping Lorenzo beneath him – the other didn't seem to mind at all.

First of all, I have to apologize because this is my first time writing a more 'intense' scene -- I sincerely hope I didn't cause any bleeding eyes in need of exorcism.

Heartbreak and stars ... let's hope Lia and Gio fix their relationship soon, because someone might die next chapter...

Thank you for reading! Stay safe, stay lovely,

Avis