Da Vinci's Demons River of Time

Time is a River

'Fork in the road' had ceased to have any meaning to Leonardo Da Vinci. All this talk of the future, of time and consequences had all but driven him insane; that is if he had ever really been sane. He was starting to question himself, his reality and everything. The only thing in his life that had meaning, that kept him grounded was Lucrezia but she...she was unreachable. In another life maybe, a life where he wasn't a bastard one where she wasn't a murderer or a traitor...but this was the life he had now and if he couldn't live it without her than he saw no purpose other than to find the identity of the woman who left him in a field, her face shrouded in shadow. He was sure, if he could just find her then he'd know, he'd know why he was here, he'd know why everything that happened from his birth until now, he would know.

And when he had both his mother and the Book of Leaves then everything would make sense.

But in the meantime he was here.

In some dark corner, waiting for someone of 'his kind' to approach him. There were signals, signs, a smile, the brush of a finger on the back of his hand, hell he'd take them buying him a drink as a sign he was so-so desperate for the comfort of burying himself into someone else, losing all thought and rationality and just focusing on another body, another mind and other needs that weren't his own and yet served his most deeply rooted urges. The barman was giving him a squinty eyed look when he thought Leo wasn't looking and refused to meet his eyes. Did he know who he was? It was another question to add to the ever growing pile of who's and why's and where's and more importantly when's.

Maddened by his own train of thought he downed his ale in one foul swoop, not caring that he didn't have the gold for it. Zoro would cover for him, he was somewhere around here scamming some poor idiot out of his florins by telling him his fate.

Suddenly a hand brushes his shoulder, he turns and sees a man clad in black, tall and hook nosed staring down at him, "Care for some company?"

So this was what fate had in store for him was it? A man with nothing attractive about him, a nose large enough for a hawk to perch on comfortably.

Sure, why not.

"I am." Da Vinci stated.

The man grinned and hauled him off his stool and looking up at his suitor only one thought entered his mind. He wasn't going to walk for days after they were done.

As he was dragged along by the arm Leonardo wondered if this counted as deviating from the River of Time, because it wasn't a usual thing for him to...to submit to another man. He was dominant, he loved to explore the men he had lain with and each of them had been delicate, lean and light of voice, they'd never been large and broad and hairy like this man, their hands had been dainty things, long fingers and so pale he could see his marks upon their skin when he sketched them afterward.

This man was three times his size, muscular and rough handed.

Leonardo knew he would be the one left with marks after this.

They reach the last room in the hallway, it was one he knew well, the one where most dastardly deeds were performed, and sodomy was one wasn't it? He laughed drunkenly as the man shoved him inside the dimly lit room.

The room was sparsely decorated but clean, there was one dingy window from where the dry, cold air was coming in. The gentle night wind rustled the candlelight but didn't snuff it out.

He glanced back at the big man who was taking a small vial out of his pocket and putting it on the dresser next to a small jar of oil.

The man caught him staring and sneered, "Drink the vial. Use the oil. I will be back."

Swift, curt orders, nothing complicated. The shadows had played with the man's face however and he wasn't sure how he felt about that, a nameless, faceless stranger.

But he'd had enough drink in him to stop caring. He drank the vial, oh, a drug. He thought he might have some tolerance to it, some resistance but as he stripped off his shirt and boots he felt a bit woozy, he laughed to himself half in fear and half in amusement because of course the great River of Time would have him drugged, make him the talkative, whimpering mess he always even more incoherent than usual. He dragged down his breeches and made it to the bed with the oil in hand before his legs wouldn't let him stand.

He buried his face against the pillow and raised his hips, he clumsily shoved three fingers in the oil and dug into himself, making the motions he'd usually be doing for someone else on himself. Making himself ready for that brute.

He was going to fuck all his thoughts away.

He started having visions half-way through it, started remembering wandering into the cave, the frightened cry of that sheep, the sound of the waterfall and the feel of the water crushing him as he ventured into that cave. He saw flickering candles and the Turk's blurred face, those kohl rimmed eyes gazing into him, under his skin and into his very soul, heart, mind, spirit whatever the hell he was underneath this heavy shell of meat and bone.

Suddenly there was laughter, hands on his hips and his fingers pulled out of him.

He got up on his elbows to see his big, hook-nosed suitor but instead his head was shoved into the pillows again and he felt the head of a thick cock poking at the rim of his anus.

The initial penetration was agonizing, the burn of it was intense and he knew that he was crying, biting into the pillow to hide his own humiliation.

He could remember his father's face during that court case, he could recall the guards laughing at him as he was sealed in that cell.

He could recall Zoroaster pulling his pants down when they were switching clothes on the night of his escape, skin the color of the finest Belgian chocolate, he wouldn't have minded biting into that, and he had the feeling Zoroaster wouldn't have either.

Someone was talking into his ear, his whole body was hot and sensitive and his bottom was full, his suitor wasn't moving, but he was speaking very fast against his ear, his breath was hot and smelled of hard liquor, not the cheap shit Leonardo had been drinking all night. He turned his face and caught that mouth with his, he teased and delved his way inside, the hook nose wasn't pressing hard against him like he'd expected, but then maybe he didn't have a hook nose at all.

The body buried inside him shifted, that burning ache had dwindled, thanks to his suitor's patience, Leonardo didn't remember if he'd ever been this patient, this gentle.

'So fucking tight'

'I would have never expected such a present, but there you were Da Vinci, all oiled up and ready for me.'

Those words, that voice. He knew them.

But Girolamo Riario was far from his mind, or it had been until he thought of him and now his mind was full, his visions were distorted memories of Riario, of fighting him, arguing with him, watching that bastard sneer at him, watching emotions cross over those stern features. How could he look so innocent and be so violent, so angry, and yet so guilty at the same time?

Lost as he was in the kiss and the cock thrusting slowly in and out of him his mind went pleasantly blank.

His elbows were aching and his neck hurt from the position he was in. He opened his eyes blearily and pulled away from the kiss and he blinked several times because his Hook-nosed suitor was not the man kissing him and Leo was too drugged to move away.

And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Riario was groaning, gasping against his open mouth as he fucked him.

Leonardo pushed back against him, dropping his head on his hands and watching him. Riario's hand caught his mouth and he laughed, "You're fucking loud you know that?"

Leonardo bit down on Riario's hand but the rough, battle hardened skin didn't give in and he wound up sucking on it.

How many people had these hands killed? How many had been strangled to death by the same flesh he had between his lips.

Had these hands been the cause of an innocent's last breath?

He couldn't think coherently anymore, Riario was behind him, inside him, all around him, he was in his head, in his mouth, in his ass and there was nowhere to Leonardo to hide from him.

That's what he was breathing into Leonardo's ear as he set a punishing pace with his hips, "You cannot hide from me."

Leonardo felt Riario's hand wrap around his cock and fist him at the same pace Riario was going, his slippery grip unbearable, the slip and slide of his palm imitating that of the hot flesh plunging inside Leonardo's backside.

Their sweat-coated bodies slid against each other until that final moment, that final break where Leonardo felt like his heart had exploded and his mind went blind, he couldn't think, couldn't see could barely breathe.

Drugged up and well fucked Leonardo fell to the uncomfortably warm and damp covers, he turned his head and saw Riario pulling up his breeches and wiping his damp forehead, he winced and looked at his hand, those brown and green eyes glanced at Leonardo and sighed, "You bit me, you shit."

Leonardo broke into laughter; everything was so funny, so damn funny.

The River of Time saw it perfectly fine to have his mother abandon him, to allow him to find himself hanging from a cavern ceiling and make it impossible to be happy with the only woman he may ever truly love.

And amongst all these things it had topped itself truly...

This was what the River of Time had given him, in a moment where he sought solace, sanctuary from his own mind, from his fears and worries and instead he had been hounded by them and fucked by his worst enemy.

He turned his head into the covers as he laughed, Riario had made his exit and Leonardo was alone in that dusty, dimly lit room with an ass full of Riario's cum and he was lying in a mess of his own making.

He wiped his eyes with one damp hand and stared up at the worn wooden ceiling and waited, waited for the drug to wear off, for his mind to return to the bee-hive of madness that he'd become used to.

He waited, as he always did, for a moment of clarity to give him purpose.


End file.
