Author's note: I've set this up a little differently than in normally would have, giving you a brief summary/setting before jumping right into the good stuff. The idea of voyeurism has always appealed to me, and this vignette just popped into my head, fully formed. Please enjoy.
Setting: The kitchen of Ida's house, five years after the end of the novel. Bo (10). Prosper (17) and Hornet (17) still live with Ida and attend school in Venice. Scipio and Victor work together. Though Scipio appears twenty-five, he is technically only nineteen. It is a Friday night and Ida, Victor, Bo and Prosper are going out to the theater in support of a performer friend of Ida's. Hornet has elected to stay home, saying that she has too much homework. Prosper leaves the theater before the show even starts, telling the others that he does not feel well, when in actuality he wants to return to the house, and Hornet. At the moment, the girl in question is in the kitchen doing her homework.
Prosper stopped in the doorway for a moment to admire the object of his desire. Hornet had grown into such a beautiful young woman.
No longer as skinny as a rail, she had blossomed into a curvy and undeniably feminine creature. Her gorgeous tawny hair fell down her back in loose waves and her gray eyes sparkled with excitement. Her skin was creamy and, on the rare occasion that Prosper was able to touch her without arousing suspicion, felt like silk beneath his fingers.
His body raged with desire for her, but he was too afraid to tell her the truth. That he loved her terribly, had since they day they first met as bedraggled children. That he longed for her with a passion so strong that he thought he would soon go mad with it. He felt himself hardening just looking at her pretty head bent over her book.
Prosper couldn't take it any more. He was about to act, enter the room and confess all to her, when he heard a knock on the back door, which led into the garden. The small blue curtain was drawn over the glass pane so that Prosper couldn't tell who would come calling so late…but Hornet seemed to know. At the first knock she had lifted her head quickly from her work, a smile on her face, and glanced at the clock. Her smile widened as she moved towards the door, pausing for a moment to check her hair in the mirror hanging over the sink. She stopped before to door, took a deep breath, and then flung it open.
It was Scipio.
Prosper didn't even know that his friend was back in Venice; Victor had sent his partner off to Padova for ten days on some sort of confidential assignment concerning one of their clients. Scipio must have just returned.
"Hello love," he purred to Hornet, grinning down at her in a way that made Prosper terribly uneasy, as though Scipio were thinking something terribly naughty.
"Hello yourself," Hornet said flirtatiously. Prosper had never heard her speak like that.
And then suddenly Scipio's arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, hers about his neck, as they kissed passionately.
Prosper was frozen to the spot, and it felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. He watched, horrified, as Hornet moaned and leaned her head back, allowing Scipio's lips access to the smooth column of her neck. One of her hands clung tightly to his shoulder while the other buried itself in his hair. Meanwhile, Scipio's hands were moving busily up and down her back, caressing everything from her shoulders to her shapely backside.
Hornet kissed Scipio firmly on the lips once more and pulled away slightly. "God, I've missed you."
"I've missed you," Scipio replied. Then he groaned and pressed his face into the curve of her neck. "Ohh, and I've missed this." Whatever he did to her then made her arch in his arms and emit a half-laugh, half-moan.
Prosper felt like he was dying as he watched his best friend and first love kiss and grind their bodies up against each other. An outsider would think that Scipio had just come back from a six-month naval tour, not a ten-day errand to a nearby city.
The young man's eyes nearly bugged out of his head when Scipio spun Hornet around in is arms and held her firmly against his chest with one tightly muscled arm. The other hand was drawing ever closer to Hornet's lush breasts. Suddenly, as Scipio nipped at her jaw and she ground her hips backwards into his pelvis, Scipio reached up and pulled the top of her loose peasant blouse down over her shoulder.
He continued to rain kisses down on her neck, face and shoulder as the blouse was slowly inched lower and lower. And then…Prosper came into the knowledge that Hornet wasn't wearing a bra.
She laughed, (actually laughed!) with triumph as Scipio's hand cupped and kneaded her breast. She turned back to him, pulled her blouse all the way off and tossed it across the room. It was followed a moment later by Scipio's jacket, light blue button-down and undershirt. Their hands were everywhere, feeling, arousing, teasing on naked skin. Hornet was a goddess. The beautiful lines and curves of her back reminded Prosper of the women immortalized in paintings in the museums. And despite how Prosper would have wanted to deny it, Scipio was incredible as well. He had the muscular build of a man, not a teenage boy, and Prosper took mental stock of his own spindly body.
He had to stifle a moan of longing and pain as he watched Hornet's hands and lips caress Scipio's naked skin, wishing with all his might that it was his chest, his arms and face that she was so lovingly gracing with her touch.
Then Scipio scooped Hornet up in his arms in one swift movement and placed her on the kitchen island where just that evening Hornet and Prosper had stood preparing vegetables for supper. His hands slip up her legs and disappeared beneath her skirt, and whatever it was that he did there made Hornet's back arch and her hands dig themselves into Scipio's shoulders.
Prosper couldn't watch any more. His heart was breaking. With every little moan, every gasp and exclamation from the other room, he was further crushed. He would never be able to look at either of them again. Or that was what he thought, until he heard a loud, rough scream from the kitchen.
Instinctively he turned back to the horrible tableau before him and, as though hypnotized, watched as the now nude pair rocked against each other in the undeniable act of coitus. Scipio held Hornet close to his chest as he pistoned his cock into her over and over. Her legs, so long and beautiful, wrapped themselves around Scipio's trim waist. Her cries of pleasure would forever be imprinted in Prosper's mind. He would hear her whenever he was alone, late at night when he dreamt of her and imagined doing what Scipio was now; bringing her to the edge of oblivion.
Scipio began moving faster and one of his hands disappeared between their writhing bodies to work her clit and before Prosper could cover his ears, Hornet let loose a long, pulsing cry of satiation. Scipio followed her soon after.
And as though this entire display wasn't bad enough, what Prosper heard next killed him.
Hornet, resting her head against Scipio's shoulder and kissing the flushed skin, whispered, "I love you, darling."