Disclaimer: How does anyone even take credit from this series?

Don't let my innocence rush back

The end comes too soon, like dreaming of angels
And leaving without them
The end is unknown, but I think I'm ready
As long as you're with me
Being, as in love with you as I am

-Angels, The XX

'It has no place in your future'

Light rays of sunlight scampered in great tumults across the white marble flooring, gleaming midst brief reprises of reflected soft satin sandaled feet gliding through the clear expanse. Massive skirts, stained with the unholy chaste kiss of crimson satin, fluttered past the adorned arches etched with lustrous embellishments, that the Florentine's artistas hadso far failed to recreate. The pearl pins that fixed golden strands of luscious hair into the artistic ensemble, above the creamy pale expanse that was her neck, had started to pain considerable, pulling crudely on her locks.

'Neither does it have a place in my future'

She could feel her chest heaving heavily, her heartbeat pounding wildly with breathlessness, her breasts strained against the tightly wounded corset. As her petit feet led her through the empty corridor, her hands untangled themselves from the nervous embrace they had held each other in, drifting instead to the rich velvet of her gown. Rather unheedingly one made its way to her face, where it pulled lightly at her flushed bottom lip, and for a fleeting moment she could smell his rough scent and feel his teeth slightly graze her kissable mouth. Her feet came to a sudden pause, a torrent of emotions swirling beneath that porcelain skin, tingling at her fingertips. She closed her eyes, breathing hard, feeling his hands make its way through her body, its familiar touch against her waist, and the warmth of his skin against hers - a warmth that rushed her back into the present. She spun around, her skirts weaving a cascade of blood across the empty expanse, to gaze into the dark eyes that she saw in the polished mirror each evening as she took apart her chignon.

'And where might my dear sister be hurrying off to?'

She could feel the rough calluses on his hand as it rested on her shoulder in a gentle, but firm grip. His body - a body that she knew as well as her own, was clad in its usual garb of black. She could see the waistband of his leather breeches resting on his pelvic bone, and the white tunic that peeked underneath the black corset-vest, covering the tightly drawn muscles on his chest - taunt beneath her fingertips. Soft black waves framed his sculpted jaw, and she forced herself not to look at his mouth, moving past them onto his eyes - eyes that smouldered with rich brown hues, dark with desire and ambition.

'Hurrying to find the brother who loves me', she replied, a wry smile curving across her face, 'who seems to have found me first'

She lifted an arm and let her fingers feel the face that belonged to her, the stubble rubbing slightly across her skin. Cesare lifted his other arm and hastily caught her hand before it could trace its path to those lips that had ravished her.

'Since we have found each other, why don't you tell me why you sought me out?'

Lucrezia removed her arm from his grip, letting it fall towards her side.

'Not here'

She led him through one of the many doors that marked the end of the corridor, throwing a quick glance at the interior of the lavishly furnished chambers, their privacy interrupted by the hasty presence of curtsying maidservants.

'Leave us'

She turned to face her brother, the door shutting behind him with a soft thump, her pulse pounding erratically as she moved closer to him. She saw curiosity mingled in the dark hues of his eyes, the colour of Pinturicchio's fine pigments as they swirled on the canvas. She reached out for his hand, clasping them between hers and raised it slowly to rest it against her face.

'I have waited, for what seems an eternity, to feel these hands again on my face' she whispered softly against them. She closed her eyes and daring not to breathe, pressed herself into him, her body fitting into place next to his. Cesare put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, resting his chin upon her head. She allowed herself a small smile and breathed in deeply, willing the smell of grass and spice to waft her back to the sunlit courtyard where she had once hidden behind the roman pillars as Cesare chased her barefoot through the grass. The smell of musk and blood rushing into her nostrils caressed her through the lost memories, reminding her that nostalgia was not something a Borgia delved into.

'What's wrong, Lucrezia?' he murmured gently, as he pressed a small kiss against her forehead

'I am tired' she replied in a quiet voice

'Tired of what? Tired of my arms?' he pulled her away from the embrace and held her at arm's length, his eyes filled with quiet laughter

'Tired of being a Borgia' she said bitterly and looked away, blinking rapidly

'Has your husband mistreated you?' Cesare asked after a heartbeat of silence, 'Has Alfonso done anything to dishonour you?' rage coloured his voice as he started pacing the room

'It is not Alfonso who has caused me distress, but another one. One quite close to my heart'

She could hear the uncertainty that lay in the air between them as Cesare paused in his pacing.

'Lucrezia'

It was but her name, a name she had heard spoken from the lips of a thousand men, a name that seemed to be as indulged in as the rich crimson wine that flowed through the vast expanse of Italy. Yet, from him, from him alone, it sounded right - spoken by the lips that were meant to embrace them in its hold forever.

She felt a small lump rise in her throat, and hastily fixed a loose pearl pin in her chignon, driving it into the depths of her flaxen curls.

'Lucrezia'

She closed her eyes once again, as he sighed her name into the air. A lover's touch

'You know we cannot. We have our duties for the good of the family'

'Am I not your family?' she turned around, her voice hitching

'You are, and I do care most deeply; but the scandal from it, if it were to happen, would destroy our hold on the Vatican'

'And what about my happiness, is my happiness something to be trifled with?' she stood in front of him, daring him to look at her, angry tears spilling onto her face, 'is my happiness a cost too great for the good of the family?' she sneered

'You are a married woman now, Father would not have you lose this treaty with Naples'

'Would you also not have me lose this treaty with Naples?' she hiccupped

'You seem to have a fondness for you husband, last I remember' he replied shortly, turning away from her

'My husband', she laughed cruelly midst her tears, 'although my choice yes, a choice forced upon by for the good of the family nonetheless. I am a Borgia but I am unable to have what I want most'

'It is because you don't know better yet', Cesare faced her, his eyes filled with an emotion she couldn't fathom, 'you are not someone I should deserve to love. However, we were born siblings and that has given me the unprecedented privilege of loving you; yet, I fear I may have gone too far'

'Do you not understand what I am trying to tell you. These hands, these arms', she caught hold of his arms and placed them roughly around herself, 'this is what home feels like. Father could sell me to the highest bidding prince or king any number of times he wants, I would do my duty as the daughter of Rodrigo Borgia; I would treaty with any man, I would have blood stain these dirty hands too, for the good of the family; but I would never be able to love someone as I do you, Cesare. My home changes with every new marriage and treaty, my bed and lover changes with every new moon, and still you remain by my side, although we are no longer children and I am no more your little sister. You are my home Cesare, you are what keeps this heart beating away in its small cage, you are all I have left of myself.'

Cesare could feel her warm breath on his face, tickling him as he tried not to groan. He removed his arms from the loose embrace around her waist and stepped back before his body betrayed him and leaned in too close for a taste of sinful pleasure.

'Am I not beautiful enough to meet your usual standard of women?'

Cesare refused to look up, staring at his hands fixatedly.

'Look at me, Cesare' Lucrezia caught hold of his jaw, forcing him to look into her eyes, eyes the colour of summer spiced wine flecked with gold at the rims.

'Am I not beautiful to you, brother?' she whispered again

They were but a mere heartbeat away and Cesare could feel her words wash over him, the faint sweet tinge of jasmine lingering in the air between. He leaned in closer, her mouth but a dangerous distance from his own, her breasts resting against his chest, where he could feel it heaving slightly as she breathed in deeply

'I am Lucrezia Borgia, does my appearance have any inadequacy which disturbs you?'

The soft brush against his lips, the taste of a forbidden memory tingling against his skin; Cesare briefly closed his eyes and felt himself spiral forward, desire coursing through his veins, lighting them on wicked fire.

'No, you are Lucrezia Borgia, the most beautiful woman to grace this land' he murmured against her lips red with lust. He bit her bottom lip slowly, trying to savour the taste of her tainted innocence, as his hand brushed her breasts, feeling her body quiver for him underneath his touch.

'Forgive me, I didn't mean for this to happen'

Cesare pulled himself away from her, disgust and desire raging within him. He turned away from her and walked rapidly towards the door, trying to reach it before he saw the hurt and dismay writ on her face. He was almost running from her. But running in the wrong direction, he thought to himself as he reached the handle, and he was out in the corridor, his morality but a fine shred upon which a single strand of sanity remained.

His footsteps echoed against the smooth marble, the fading sunlight dancing amongst the stone. Love was a weakness, a weakness that he had no time to indulge upon when Naples and Caterina Sforza remained on the chessboard, a game played in the lurking shadows. Politics was a mere excuse however, this love, which had crossed boundaries of propriety and morality eons ago, ignited a rush of adrenalin and fervour within him-a burning love that had existed only as black splotches on a yellow parchment. He was afraid of the fiery passion that consumed him when she had whispered kisses to him in the night, the feel of him within her as she gasped his name against his bare skin. Impossible loves long seemed to have become his penchant - lusting after Ursula, and now his own little sister, Lucrezia.

Only, she couldn't be called his little sister anymore. She was a Borgia now, the steel of their family blood running through her veins, her body worth more lusting after than the entirety of Italy; and yet it hadn't been her curved waist or breathless lips that had enticed him, although her infatuation for him seemed to be borne quite recently. Cesare had always been fiercely protective of her, never knowing when he had crossed the thin border, leaving behind the shades of defined hues into unchartered territory of unholy lust.

You are my home Cesare, you are what keeps this heart beating away in its small cage, you are all I have left of myself.

They were two shards of the same mirror that lay jagged, and sharp to draw the blood of a thousand men. They had left pieces of themselves buried deep within each other, entrenched in chambers locked away in their hearts. They were the only home that could be expected of a Borgia, the solace of her arms, the steady rhythm of her heart was what brought him back from blood splattered across his paled tunic.

Poison had long served as their family's infamous symbol, but they were naught but poison for each other, he thought wryly as he climbed the stairs slowly.

Lost wisps of themselves that had been whisked away by the summer winds that had wrapped another's tightly holding onto its embrace, but which had been wisps tangled in the treacherous pools of poison. Slow and sweet, it had seeped within, destroying them from within, much like cantarella. He had tried, tried until his frustration had been its undoing, to forget her. Tried in vain, but to run away from her; and now that he had tasted her, he was rushing into her once more - something that terrified him more than Caterina Sforza's spies in the Vatican.

He pushed open the doors to his chambers, shutting them behind him.

The darkness flickered beneath her eyelids, drawing her back in deeper with each breathe. It pressed around her, flares of memories playing around her flimsy chemise, flushing her skin an invisible crimson. Thick black lashes that had lain in solitude abruptly fluttered to reveal reflections of the darkness amid the whispers of gold, her legs shifting restlessly beneath the soft goose down covers as her lightly stained lips parted to release a soft sigh.

Alfonso lay next to her, his silent snores trickling into the void engulfed by the night. His soft curls lay asleep against the white expanse, his rich olive skin gleaming against her porcelain hand as she gently stroked his face. A crude gurgle of hysterics erupted within her as she watched him shift under her touch, the emotions that unfurled within her reminiscent of being carried in Cesare's arms when she was five and impervious to the snare of lust and power. Marriage, she had long believed, was ought to be an affair of passion and heat - something that set your blood on fire with each hushed breath, something where you could let down the silken coven you wove over yourself on the chessboard of power; but here she was once again, married twice, her lover never the man who shared her bed.

Paolo had been her spring - soft underneath her lips, soft with his hands under her skirt, soft when she held his body, his eyes cold with frost of the dead. Alfonso was her summer wind, caressing her grief slowly away, drifting amongst the blossomed trees that lay tucked beneath the woven darkness of the sun. His hands warmed her childhood, the scent of lemon trees filling her with reprise from the intricate court dances of ambition; he was her Juan before the armour had been donned upon his Borgian pride, he was her Cesare as he caught her spying outside his windows, swinging her up in the winds. She had never felt a dearth of brothers - each one protecting her honour and adorning her with ribbons, and yet Juan had turned away from her, Gioffre had been sold away for the family, and Cesare had grown up too fast for her to hold onto his hem. She had asked for a brother and husband and now she had them both. Cesare was her storm, he was the summer heat as it pressed against her skin, its breath against her face; he was the autumn wind, brushing her hair away from her neck with a slow sensuous shiver; he was the winter sleet, thundering against her heart as he pulled her closer to taste her; he was the summer storm, claiming her for his arms only, claiming her body, claiming her home - Cesare was her, her steel beneath the facade, her passion beneath the shirts, her lust painted red against her lips, he had always been and would always be hers - a Borgia.

Slowly but surely she started to lift herself from the covers, pausing as Alfonso's breath hitched, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her feet touched the smooth, cold marble beneath her feet as she lightly walked across to the heavy doors that sheltered them from the outer world. With a last glance back at her husband who lay tangled in the sheets, she slipped out into the dusk that encased her into its shadows. She was ten once more as she ran along the corridor, stumbling in the dark, snatches of moonlight flitting between suits of armour that locked her in solitary stares, as her feet fought to find her way to her only comfort in this strange city that lusted after their blood. Her hands sought the wood that carved its way to an open beneath her fingers, the rosewood etched with the wisps of her memories. She pushed it slightly open, bracing herself for the disappointment and apprehension as she stepped into the chamber.

He was awake.

Her startled eyes met his unreadable ones midway, noting that he had yet to undress, the pain of rejection but a mere touch away.

'I-', she opened her mouth to say something, but nothing would pierce through the veil of crushing desperate disappointment, 'I tried, I really did try', her words tripped over themselves as she moved closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers

'I tried not to come', she whispered, her hand trailing along the covers, 'I know this is something wrong, I know the scandal resulting from it would shatter any hold we have over Italy's principalities' she saw his eyes shift to her trailing fingers, 'but I don't want to feel alone anymore'

Silent and calm, his eyes tracked her movement reminiscent of a predator

'You are the only one who grounds me, binds me to this world', she sat on the bed, his skin mere inches away from hers.

She leaned in closer then, his thigh lightly pressing into her as the heat burnt across the linen.

'Possibly you do not want me, do not lust after me because in hindsight, I am and will never be anything but a younger sister to you; but I have seen the way you look at me in the hallways of St. Peter's, the way you gasped my name out the night I gave myself to you, the soft kisses you whisper to me trying to mask it as another affection. It has been long, dear brother, since I've felt my heart beat so painfully against my chest, earning to be one with you. I need to be loved. I want to be loved, Cesare' she sighed his name against his skin, closing her eyes as she waited for the inevitable answer. The slight taste of citrus crushed against her lips, the scent of musk overpowering her senses as her eyes flew open to look into her own, mirrored with lust and longing.

Cesare could feel something breaking within him as he captured her mouth in a long and hard kiss, the fiery heat of her body leaving behind smouldering fingerprints against his. He had held out so long, for a time that spanned over almost a lifetime, waiting for it to pass over, waiting to do what was best for her. She was the last family that he had, a single strand of morality that strung loose across his bloodstained hands - he was the last thing he would wish upon her, with nothing to offer but sin and power; and yet feeling her body arch with pleasure beneath his own, her hands in his hair, pulling him closer, made his body tremble with a single touch. They were truly the unholy family, he though wryly as let his hands trail over the body most of Italy earned after, feeling the soft linen across her thighs. He could feel her breathe heavily into his mouth, a moan of pleasure against his throat as he found his way across her - a sigh traced down her curve, a whisper against her chest, a gasp between her legs. He was tired of having to wait, of having to hold out because old, shriveled men in scarlet robes preached it wrong. What did they know about God, what did they know about sin more than they did?

He shifted from her mouth to her jaw line pressing tantalizing small kisses over the expanse of her neck. Gently, he bit down on the curve of smooth skin that decorated her collarbone, sucking on it slowly as he felt Lucrezia gasp from under him. Her hands wrapped around his own neck, he could feel the steady beating of her pulse against his skin, beating out the rhythm of his own desire. She pulled his mouth into a hushed embrace, her teeth slightly grazing his lower lip, her tongue darting in to taste him. He could feel her slipping away from under him and opened his eyes in confusion, his mouth hanging open as she moved away from beneath him and onto him. She placed her legs on either side, straddling him and pushing him onto the bed.

She caught his eye and grinned suddenly.

'I am a Borgia, am I not brother?' she asked him as she took apart his shirt, rubbing her hand across his chest, her thighs tightening as she felt him grow hard from her straddling him

'That you might still be' he breathed out as he slipped a hand underneath her chemise and palmed one of her breasts, kneading her nipple against his fingers.

Lucrezia threw her head back, moaning softly as he worked on her sore nipple, moving her hips lightly and grazing his hardening bulge harder. Her legs pressed into him harder as he continued, his touch brushing against the smooth curve of her breast. He used his other hand to support her shoulder and flipped her onto the bed, bending over her to press slow kisses onto her collarbone while his fingers trailed down her stomach. She reached for the lace of his breeches and pulled at them, yanking crudely at the strings. Cesare chuckled and led her fingers dance across the weave to pull them apart, letting them push it down to his knees. He pulled his legs free and looked to see Lucrezia propped up on her elbows, her knees bent as her legs spread wide, watching him undress. She slipped a hand between her legs, watching him watch her as her fingers reached into the mess of soft black hair. He felt himself harden even more as her breathing became heavier, her fingers still exploring her own sexuality. Grabbing her by the ankles her pulled her forward, throwing the chemise off her perfectly sculpted body, his lips touching the raw insides of her thigh. He stopped to feel her perfectly smooth calves, his hand yearning to touch her, his lips fervently working on ravishing her. Lucrezia felt a sudden pressure on her clit, pushing it slightly. She moaned as Cesare flicked his tongue into her, curving it around her clitoris; she could feel the nerve endings in her toes start to tingle as blood rushed down to where Cesare had started to suck slowly. His mouth slid over her, pressing against her opening, and finding her wet. She could feel her muscles start to tighten as he continued to tease her, his breathe nearly sending her over the edge. He grinned against her, licking her deeply, pushing his tongue through and swirling it around in her. She felt his fingers tap against her as it replaced it mouth, his thumb rubbing against her climax.

Cesare could feel Lucrezia vibrating underneath him as he let his fingers bury themselves within her, slick with her own wetness. She gasped as he pushed them through rhythmically, his thumb still stroking her clit. Her body shook and broke into a thousand pieces beneath him as she came undone, clenching her muscles hard against his fingers, whispers of ecstasy rippling through the sheet.

He removed his fingers slowly and wiped them on his chest, his hands moving across the smooth expanse that was her stomach. Lucrezia reached down and pull hard on his shaft, hard and erect in her palm, and he hissed in response, feeling her fingers move deftly across it. She pressed her palm against the rounded tip, as she began to stroke it slowly, increasingly faster as he let out a muffled moan against her skin, sure and warm. Her mouth caught his as she pulled slowly on his lower lip, her fingers pressed firm and straight onto his cock, faltering only when Cesare pulled on her nipple with his teeth.

'God, Lucrezia' he gasped out as he reached for her hand, before he came breathlessly onto her

Lucrezia pushed herself forward, straddling him once more as she held his cock, rubbing it across her clit. Cesare moaned as he felt her wet, his fingers digging into her back as she slowly lowered herself onto him. He felt her move her pelvic bone against his, her muscles tightening against his shaft, rocking it back and forth slowly. He aligned his hips with hers and started to thrust as she moved her body around him within her. He could feel her heartbeat race as he started to thrust harder, pressing kisses and nibs across her body. Her gasps and whimpers caressed his skin, breathing out the summer wind as it rolled through the fields of wheat, her body shivering under his hands that pressed her breasts. He buried himself into her, tasting her with his body, pushing them both to the brink of the cliff. He could feel adrenalin course through his veins, dousing him in a momentary fall of pleasure and sin. Starworks as dim as the bright lanterns adorning Venice flashed across the darkness of his eyes, sparks of heat and flashing thunder racing up his body in desperate shudders.

What did they know about God, what did they know about sin more than he would ever know with himself buried within her?

He could feel Lucrezia's forehead leaning against his own, struggling to remember how to breath. He looked up and into her eyes, eyes that he had nightmares about being closed in an eternal slumber. He slipped his arms around her, closing his eyes as he sighed into her collarbone in relief. Lucrezia kissed Cesare's tousled black hair and humming contently, she leaned into his circle of arms.

Here was home at last.

It would mean a lot if you could review, this is my first smut so I'm still a bit apprehensive as to how it actually sounds