Chapter Text
Dildos
They were always going to talk cocks at some point, given the first time he had ever seen Desmond in the flesh. Ezio truly had no qualms about the fact that the young man possessed no natural cock of his own, having already seen just how skilful Desmond was with his carved cock at rendering Leonardo speechless, and had himself been under his tender mercies. The day after, his hole had throbbed but not been truly sore, and Desmond had fingered him open again to 'assess the damage', if Ezio recalled correctly. That had been the first time in his life Ezio had come without having touched his cock, his arousal still straining against his flesh despite the way his thighs quivered, and then Leonardo sat himself onto his lap and rode them both to completion.
...he may have blacked out at some point, he couldn't quite recall.
It was a quiet afternoon, Francesco having absconded with Giovanni and Ermelinda for the day on what Desmond had called a ‘play date’. The only reason why Desmond had even let the bambino out of his sight and onto Tiber Island was because Claudia had sworn up and down that she wouldn’t let Machiavelli anywhere near him under threat of another foot in his crotch.
So today the villa belonged to the three of them, basking in the warm afternoon sun as they talked about…cocks.
Leonardo couldn’t take his gaze off his hands as Ezio fondled the one Desmond had carved for himself, carefully running his hands over its smooth, tooled surface. He met Leonardo’s wide eyes and ran a thumb under the glans, licking his lips-.
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyefucking in the flesh before.”
Leonardo turned to Desmond, the moment broken. “Dearest, you are speaking words with no meaning again.”
The young man smirked. “Eyefucking,” he repeated. “We all know what ‘fucking’ means, and with the way Ezio was looking at you, I’m sure you wouldn’t have protested if he put that cock in your mouth and-.”
“Desmond!”
“Oh, you can still be scandalised?” Desmond turned to him, a playfully troubled expression on his face. “Ezio, Leonardo can still be scandalised. I think we’ve done something wrong.”
“Or maybe we have not done enough of something,” he replied slyly. “Or someone. I volunteer as tribute.”
“Ezio!”
“It is my turn now?” he asked, utterly delighted at being able to reel Leonardo in by the waist and kiss him. The blond made a protesting huff against his mouth, but kissed him back. Such a simple action still thrilled him down to the bone.
Leonardo was wearing a dazed look when they parted. He smirked, satisfied at a job well done.
"You just wanna do us. Or be done by us," Desmond said through his snickers. Ezio rolled his eyes and reeled him in for a kiss of his own. The young man kissed exquisitely, without being overwhelmed by the history that both anchored and mired him and Leonardo.
“There is no reason why I cannot do both, to all of our mutual benefit. Will you tell me why you chose this form?”
Desmond blinked, glancing downward.
“The form of…a cock?”
Ezlio laughed throatily. “This length, this girth- was this a cock that once brought you great pleasure, or-?”
“Ezio!” Leonardo hissed, his face ablaze.
“What?” he laughed, snuggling into Desmond’s shoulder. “It is not as if you are not curious, too.”
Desmond raised his eyebrows as he considered his reply. They were really doing this, huh? Well, hopefully Leonardo’s head wouldn’t explode with how red his face was getting.
“Dildos are dildos- dildos are another term for fake cocks,” he explained when both Ezio and Leonardo gave him blank looks. “You’ve seen what mine looks like- that’s pretty typical, and there were some that were more detailed or less, longer or shorter, thicker or thinner, with a curve or straight. You could use different materials, too- metal for temperature play, glass if you were feeling ballsy, silicon for more something more life-like. Of course those are just the typical shapes, and we haven’t even talk about plugs or anal beads or prostate massagers yet,” he added with a shrug. “And there were more fantastical ones, too.”
“Fantastical?” Leonardo asked faintly, looking like he’d regret the answer.
Desmond smirked. “There was a shop that specialised in…how should I put it…monster cocks and cocks of monstrous size.”
Leonardo choked on nothing at all.
“Imaginary dragon cocks,” he continued, “tentacles. Animal cocks, inflatable knots- there was a running joke at one point about some guy being a goat fucker, and if I remember correctly there was a politician who got into shit for skull-fucking a dead pig.”
Ezio was cackling while Leonardo was gaping at him.
“Maestro, you okay?”
The blond looked like his face was on fire. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Ezio, on the other hand, looked utterly delighted.
“You were speaking of fake cocks,” he said. “Were there fake arses? Fake vaginas?”
“Yeah, blow-up dolls were a thing, as were fleshlights- they were these little sleeves that looked like vaginas, made of silicon to feel as life-like as possible, I guess. It wasn’t really something I cared about.”
“What a future,” Ezio marvelled.
Desmond laughed. “I can’t believe that’s what you’re impressed by.”
Ezio leered at him. “Can you not?”
“You really have no shame, do you?” Leonardo squeaked out.
“Why should I have any shame in my pleasure and that of the people I love?” Ezio asked, tenderly brushing back the hair from Leonardo’s burning face. There was a very old ache within him that tasted of Ezio, a bitter yearning that had never truly been fulfilled, even if he had loved Sofia and the children with all that was left of his heart. Desmond blinked, startling back to himself at the touch of lips to his skin. Ezio of the present- of the past- Ezio here hadn’t forgotten him, either, having pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Desmond awkwardly cleared his throats. “I haven’t even gotten started on vibrators yet.”
Leonardo frowned. “I…do not understand the word. How can such an action assist in lovemaking?”
Desmond grinned. “Well-.”
“I was not asking for a demonstration!” Leonardo hurriedly squeaked. “Have mercy on an old man, dearest.”
Ezio laughed the loudest, catching Leonardo’s chin to smack a wet kiss on his lips. “By your own words, Maestro!”
Leonardo groaned, squirming to hide his face against Desmond’s belly, which was a deliciously interesting sensation, especially with his beard scraping against his skin. Desmond couldn’t help chuckling, lightly scratching the top of his head.
“You mean you don’t like it when I hum while sucking your cock and you can feel my throat vibrate around you? Damn, wish I knew I’d be fucking arou-.”
“Desmond!” Leonardo all but howled, while Ezio was crying with laughter.
He grinned down at them, satisfaction easing the bitterness that had curled around his spine. “Yeah, but anyway, vibrators can’t work because batteries haven’t been invented yet- they’re like a- a small nub of stored energy that you can use to power stuff to run independently, including vibrators.”
Leonardo was looked bewildered again beneath his blushing cheeks. “An energy source?” he asked. “Like an Apple?”
Ezio smirked. “When I first laid eyes on you, Desmond, I had wondered if gods fucked. Did they also have your vibrators, then?”
Desmond guffawed so loudly he startled even himself. “Who, the Isu? With the dildo of Eden?”
And then they were all falling over each other in laughter. Desmond gestured crudely. “You know, Rodrigo’s staff is even the right shape-.”
Ezio shoved him. “That’s disgusting!” he exclaimed, tears streaming down his face.
Desmond fell back, still laughing. “I mean, he’s dead, right? So it’s not like he’s going to use-.”
“Desmond!”
Giovanni
For the most part, Giovanni was an easygoing, fuss-free child. He turned four and Desmond’s worst nightmare came true when he refused to answer to anything other than ‘bambino’, and for a moment there he'd wondered if the boy would ever remember his own name. But such fancies passed, as they were wont to do - although most still called him ‘bambino’ just to be on the safe side.
He was six when he spoke for the first time, when it was just him and Desmond, up on the rooftops of Leonardo's palazzo as they watched the sun set on Rome together.
“Can I call you papa?”
It was a child’s voice and a child’s question, but there was something a little uncanny-valley about it. Desmond turned and stared for a long moment, not actually certain if the words had just been a figment of his imagination. Eventually, Giovanni got sick of his staring and repeated, “Can I call you papa?”
“I don’t love you any less just because I’m not your papa,” was his answer once he worked out that the best way to probably go about this for now was to not treat Giovanni’s speech as anything unusual.
“So if you love me just as much as a papa does and act just as a papa does, doesn't that make you my papa?”
Ugh. Trust the lad to be just as astute with his words as he was with his sounds.
“Because I’m not,” was all Desmond had to offer. “I know it’s only semantics when I’ve pretty much been your papa in everything other than name, but I can’t bring myself to accept that title, I’m sorry, bambino. Perotto is your papa.”
Giovanni clicked his tongue. “I know that,” he said impatiently, “I’ve always known that. Why can’t I have two papas?”
Desmond burst out laughing before he could help himself. “I’m sorry, bambino, I’m not laughing at you. Apart from the fact that it’s the term ‘papa’ that I’m not comfortable with, you’re gonna get us all hung if you go around telling people you have two papas.”
Giovanni pouted and Desmond recognised that look; he was settling in for a proper sulk now.
“Look, I have a name. You can use that; I don’t mind.”
Giovanni shook his head. “Desmond doesn't mean what you are to me. You are a parent- you are my parent.”
Desmond pulled a face. “Parent,” he tried out. “Well, I suppose I should be glad that there’s at least a gender-neutral term floating around already. And that you didn’t call me that other thing.”
“Mother?” Giovanni asked, openly confused. “No, mothers are sad, I could never call you that.”
“Why do you think mothers are sad?” he asked, frowning. Giovanni hadn’t exactly had a lot of contact with mothers; none of their Brotherhood were, and Desmond didn’t think any of the women had been especially sad lately-.
“Zia was always sad,” Giovanni said.
“Zia? Wait, as in Lucrezia?” he squawked. “Why do you- you remember?”
“She used to visit when I was still- there,” Giovanni said, referring to the Borgia castle. “She said she was my aunt Zia. And I remember Ezio telling the townspeople about my mother."
Desmond knew he was gaping but he didn’t know what else to do.
“She was always sad when she saw me, but that's not you,” Giovanni huffed in an echo of the fussy noises he used to make as a toddler. “You’re not sad to see me. Fine, you don’t want to be ‘papa’ - even if that’s how you act.”
Desmond swallowed, unable to speak. He’d known, absently, that the lady doth protest too much. Giovanni had no living parents and he had all but raised him- there were only so many names for such a role.
But before that-.
“About Lucrezia- you know that I-.”
Giovanni stared at his feet. “I know she’s dead.”
Desmond winced. “It’s a bit more than that, bambino.”
Giovanni glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “You were not trying to hide it from me.”
He sighed. “No, but there’s a difference between talking around it and talking about it. I was hoping to have this conversation in, like, 10 years, you know, not now.”
Giovanni slumped against his side. Desmond put his arm around him, tucking him close. “Still my parent,” he mumbled stubbornly.
Desmond pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m pretty sure that stubbornness is all Ermelinda’s, bambino.”
“I want to call you something,” Giovanni insisted, almost plaintive.
Desmond dropped another kiss onto his soft curls. “I should just give up, huh? This is happening whether I like it or not.”
Giovanni curled towards his knees, the very picture of glumness. “I want you to like it. If it’s something you don’t want-.”
“That’s not it,” he said, settling his hand on the boy’s head. “Look, the only reason this hadn’t come up before because you didn’t choose to talk. I’m not angry or anything like that, okay?”
Giovanni nodded, but his head was still bowed and subdued.
“Oh, bambino, come here.”
It was gratifying to have the boy crawl so readily into the cradle of his arms. There was more of him than the first time, certainly, but Giovanni still clung to him the same way, tangling his fingers in the collar of his shirt and snuggling close.
“’Papa’ is never gonna sit right with me,” he admitted. “It’s not all on you- I have my own hang-ups with that word and what it means.” Perotto’s sacrifice was never going to be forgotten now and Ezio’s Giovanni had by all accounts been a good man and a better father, but Bill’s shadow still weighed pretty heavily on him. “But I am a parent,” he said slowly, sounding out the word. “Fuck it, I’m your parent.”
Giovanni leaned back, his head resting against his collarbones. “You are,” he agreed. “You’re the only parent I have and I want to show that.”
“As long as this is something you want, because it’s not important to me. Recognition’s never been all that important to me.”
Giovanni snorted. “Yes, we know. Leonardo likes to complain.”
“Hey!” Giovanni giggled when he mock-tussled with him, giving him a noogie. “You rude little bugger, I’ll throw you off the roof,” he threatened.
Children
“My Desmond,” Giovanni pronounced, glaring up at the teenager.
‘No, my Desmond,’ Alessandra signed, her hands emphatic. Through the years, Giovanni had sprouted like a weed, although Alessandra still remained taller- for now.
“Should Desmond not be Maestro da Vinci’s and Ser Ezio’s?” Bastiano asked tentatively, only to have both children round on him.
“No!”
Alif was no help at all, sprawled on the garden bench and hiding his giggles behind his flagon of wine, emerging only to stoke the flames between them.
“Cristo,” Ezio muttered, “Desmond is Ermelinda’s.”
They all turned to look at where the man was napping on the roof, Ermelinda sprawled possessively over his head. In all honesty, Ezio wasn’t certain Desmond hadn’t suffocated under the weight of her- and her fur.
“Oh.”
Both Giovanni and Alessandra sagged with disappointment.
“Ermelinda?” Giovanni offered, his lower lip sticking out.
‘Ermelinda,’ Alessandra signed back, her expression glum.
Ezio rolled his eyes, stalking into the palazzo and leaving the children and Alif's laughter behind him. He should have done as Leonardo and Francesco did and fled the scene the moment Giovanni and Alessandra had started to argue in earnest. To think they had spent all this time worrying about the Templars’ dominion when they clearly should have been concerned about the children’s.
Machiavelli was never going to let him live this down.