Disclaimer: I do not own the The Name of the Wind, any of the other books yet to be released, or the characters in this story. I only own the twisted sort of events that happen here.
Hello everyone! This is a oneshot of Kvothe/Bast! It's the first lemon I've ever written, so I hope you like it!
Kvothe's eyes glistened darkly in the firelight from where he sat unblinkingly in a chair precariously close to the hearth. He did this sometimes, Bast reflected, when he was thinking far back, to times he had tried to leave safely forgotten. He sat far back in his seat, torso leaned forward and elbows resting heavily on his knees. Hands clasped together in front of his mouth, his brow was set in a grim line, the focal point of all the lines on his face.
Bast felt guilty, seeing him like this, because it was his fault that his master was being forced to this state. It was for his own selfish desires that he had brought the Chronicler, who was now long asleep, into this corner of the world. But then again, his desires were only that Kvothe would return to the man he once was, and was most happy being. To put it in its most serious and yet most dramatic form, Bast was only trying to save his Reshi's life. Was it so sinful a wish?
As to why this was so, there were various reasons, some of which Bast was reluctant to conclude on himself. One of them was because Kvothe was his teacher, and he had come to this world to learn things that no one could teach in the Fae. Another reason, less selfish, was because he, too, had heard the terrifying stories that his master had once lived, and knew that for such a man to recede to now being the compliant innkeeper was unhealthy. Great men such as that were rare, who blossomed in the face of things most men would quiver and break to behold.
His third reason, which he hated to admit even to himself, was that the world was in desperate need of a hero. The scrael were back, demons were once again donning human skin, and the Four Corners of the world in general were becoming darker and more dangerous lands. These people needed someone to save them – a real hero. Not like Taborlin, who only lived in stories.
He closed the door softly behind him, and Kvothe turned his head slightly to regard his friend and student. Dark eyes swept over his face, not at all irritated, despite the fact that Bast hadn't knocked.
"Is he sleeping?" Kvothe asked, the thunder in his voice having quieted from his storytelling to a low purr. The sound reverberated off of the faerie's spine, his being moving with the sound.
Bast nodded once, not trusting himself to speak, and removed his hand from the door.
The fourth and final reason was one that he had only considered once. He didn't bring it to the forefront of his mind, even now, with the dim light from the fire illuminating his master's hair and long eyelashes. It was too powerful of a theory, and had the power, when confirmed, to possibly break all of the progress Bast had made ever since Kvothe had come to his land and swept him away from the courts.
Much like Kvothe's father had to his mother. At the thought of his master's parents, the faerie shifted worriedly and took a step closer to his mentor. He hadn't been aware that Kvothe's childhood had been as short and traumatic as it had. He had never asked about his parents…guilt turned his stomach.
"Come, Bast," he managed to make the word sound like its own song, "Speak up. By the look in your eyes, I'd say you're still mourning the beginning of the story. Imagine tomorrow, when I recount the events that led up to my spending the night with Felurian."
Bast tried to school his face, recalling the earlier mention of 'blubbery cow eyes,' and tried to let a grin form its way on his face. Usually it came as easy as walking, but tonight…
"Reshi, I…" Kvothe looked up expectantly, and looked rather disappointed when his friend didn't finish the sentence. Bast's face flamed, unsure of how to continue, his conscious telling him he sounded like a girl.
"Tomorrow's when you met me," the thought suddenly occurred to him, and his master broke into a grin.
"In a sense, yes," his laugh, though quiet, significantly altered the atmosphere of the stuffy room, "I suppose you'll be eager to hear my first impression of you."
Bast lowered himself to kneel directly in front of him on the rug, not bothering to claim the other chair. His shadow blocked the light from the other man's face, making him seem a bit less otherworldly.
"Very much so," he grinned, "And I think it would only be proper if you informed me now, before you go telling everybody else."
The man's cheeks darkened slightly, though Bast couldn't figure out for the life of him why. He stared curiously at his master, whose eyes promptly denied that there was any stain of colour on his cheeks.
"I thought what everyone else did at first, of course," Kvothe looked studiously at his bedpost in the corner of the room. He stayed silent then, rising busily to go tend the fire.
Sensing something interesting, Bast rose after him. He hovered over his left shoulder, watching the iron stick prod the fire expertly. When no further words were offered, he frowned curiously, unsure that he left much of an impression at all.
"And what exactly was that?" he asked, trying to recall the details of their first encounter.
Kvothe straightened up and moved over to his chair once more, moving it slightly as though to sit down, then deciding better of it. Bast followed him closely.
"Well, that you left quite an impression." He said dismissively and fixed him with a look.
The faerie, sensing evasion, blocked him from moving anywhere else. His curiosity was piqued, and he wasn't about to let this go and wait for tomorrow. Kvothe tried to get around him, but he moved. He did it discretely at first, finally placing a firm hand on his friend's shoulder when they ended up dancing around the same two feet.
He sighed, steadying himself as his calves were pushed up against the bed, "You don't usually come to my chambers this late, and I'm feeling rather tired…"
Bast had pushed him as close to the mattress as possible. He sat down for a moment, but quickly regained his footing, not sure if he liked his friend towering over him in such a position. He sighed again, locking his eyes with the clear blue stare drilling into him.
"I'm sure you're just trying to make me feel uncomfortable." He said bluntly.
A grin answered to that statement, and Bast's eyes lit up in the playful manner that often was a prelude to something unpleasant.
The faerie leapt quite suddenly, pushing Kvothe backwards and pinning his wrists to the bed. The look he got was priceless, and he couldn't help but snicker slightly before he got down to business.
"Was it a good impression?" he asked as his friend continued to gape at him.
"Was it curious?"
Bast, feeling quite impish that day, felt conspiracy rise in his blood. He leaned close to his master's ear, which had begun to redden in embarrassment, and whispered,
"Was it devious?"
"Bast!" Kvothe cried, his face burning bright red now, and he tried to push the faerie off of him.
Bast laughed, letting himself fall backwards, and was completely surprised when he felt the weight of the human pressing up against him. Kvothe laughed, his face comically sultry, and he leaned in so that their eyes were level.
"Tehlu, you can read me well," he said lowly.
The sound of his low tremor resulted in a completely unexpected sensation to Bast. The deep rumble of his voice vibrated hotly down his spine – and pooled at his groin. There was no time to do anything about it, and suddenly, Kvothe's face went from surprised to embarrassed and then carefully blank. He sat back slowly, and the movement it caused sent tendrils of pleasure racing up Bast's thighs.
Before he knew what he was doing, his hand had grasped his master's shirt and pulled them closely together. All of his previous contemplations on his intentions toward his master flooded his senses, and he pushed himself against Kvothe experimentally. Kvothe let out a quiet gasp, and Bast, acting on a whim, tried something he had only thought of once.
He kissed him.
It started off as just that – two mouths pressed firmly together. It wasn't anything spectacular, he reflected, and then of course Kvothe suddenly reacted, and it turned into something else entirely.
He really was good at everything, Bast thought dimly, as he was taken by the collar and flattened softly on his back. His moan was loud, and the sound halted them both in their actions. They stared at the walls, paranoid. The Chronicler was only a few rooms over…
Bast shifted his hips slightly, and Kvothe's face twisted with pleasure.
"Reshi," he moaned, face flushed.
Pleasure turned once more to shock, and Kvothe pushed himself up on is hands.
"Bast, I'm sorry, I didn't think…" he had clearly forgotten who it was that had started this.
Bast craned his neck and pulled Kvothe's bottom lip into his mouth. The body above him stiffened with tension. He nibbled seductively on the tender flesh, and, when rewarded with a loud moan, tried snaking his arms under the layers of clothing. He ran his fingers along the skin he found, taking in every scar and running the length up to an already hardening nipple.
He pinched it, and Kvothe dipped his head to catch Bast's mouth with his. He licked his lips, thrusting as he did this, and snaked his tongue in, swirling it experimentally. His hands made their way to Bast's belt and, daringly, he plunged them beneath the fabric.
"Reshi!" Bast gasped, thrusting upwards instinctively.
Kvothe played with the curls there for a moment, eyes dark beyond recognition. Without another word, he slipped Bast's top over his head. The faerie lay panting and writhing in pleasure as he grazed his teeth over first one nipple, and then the other. His tongue traced patterns over the hardened flesh, and he groaned when he felt hands undo his belt buckle.
Overly eager, the two of them tried, unsuccessfully, to unclothe each other while grinding together at the same time. They fought for a while, and only stopped to pull back when Kvothe laughed slightly. He tore off his outer layers with vengeance and within moments Bast, too, lay naked and panting on the bed. Kvothe grinned wolfishly and ran his finger up the length of Bast's cock. Mercifully, he wound his hand around the shaft and began pumping.
"Fuck, Reshiii…" Bast cried, throwing his head to the side in ecstasy. His body throbbed in pleasure, never having had this kind of contact before, and he dislodged his master's hand just as he felt himself teetering on the brink.
"Wait," he moaned, "I want to…"
Kvothe let himself be flipped over, and was completely surprised when Bast promptly dipped his head and took his entire cock into his mouth. He let out a surprised yell, which surely the smith must have heard. He didn't care. He writhed madly as Bast slowly licked up the length of him, and brought his hand up to trace his hip.
"Bast," he cried, "Bast, please, let me…I want you."
The faerie blanched, the surprise nearly riding out all of the other sensations he was feeling. Looking up, he saw that Kvothe was staring heatedly at him, the lust in his eyes making them stand out brighter than his hair, for once. The room, which had been unbearable before, was now even worse, and sweat had gathered on both of their bodies. Bast took his master in, nearly breaking at the glorious sight of him, and remembered why it was exactly that he wanted to save this man.
For once, Kvothe did not notice the emotions playing on his friend's face. He rolled Bast over aggressively, any trace of the laid back innkeeper discarded with his clothes. He lowered his body and pressed it against the body beneath him, rewarded with a loud groan of admission. Quickly, he placed three of his fingers in his mouth, coating them generously so as not to cause any pain. He didn't wait for Bast to stop squirming, and slowly penetrated him with one finger, giving no explanations.
"Reshi!" Bast cried, not being able to bite back his scream. It hurt as hell, that was for sure, though he found himself spreading his legs, trying to get more comfortable.
Another finger was added, and the harsh stabbing of pain had made it to the back of his eyes. He closed them instead, lest he make a fool of himself, and urged Kvothe to add another.
The third finger entered and caused a wave of pleasure as it was pushed deep inside. Bast moaned loudly, bucking his hips, and his master pushed them in and out, hitting the same spot over and over. The room got brighter and brighter, and, just as he was about to fall over the edge, he felt a sensation of loss and noticed that the fingers were gone.
"Are you okay?" Kvothe asked, and Bast snickered quietly. He was so gentle, for such a strong man.
Not answering, Bast thrust his hips upwards, fully penetrating himself and sending a sharp rip of pain through his body to his very core. Kvothe's face shifted expressively, but he held himself still, careful not to cause any more hurt than necessary.
But Bast didn't care. He pushed his hips upward, reveling in the look that crossed his master's face.
"Yes," he hissed, "Fuck me, Reshi."
Gasping with pleasure, Kvothe lowered his head to the crook of his partner's neck and buried his face there. He thrust forward, slowly at first, but sped up and began plunging in deeper and more quickly. The faerie moaned wildly, seeing stars and knowing that they would not last. When was the last time either of them had done this? Had they ever?
Just as it became unbearable, Bast opened his mouth and let out a half moan, half scream. His mouth was caught up in a kiss, however, and he felt a hand wrap around his cock.
He came loudly, hands wrapped around his Reshi, feeling something hot explode inside of him. They both collapsed on the wet sheets, and Kvothe pulled himself out, lying on his side with a flush on his face.
He looked so unsure of himself, it was nearly comical, and Bast found himself biting back a laugh as he leaned forward and planted a firm kiss on those lips.
"Sleep," he said.
He thought of adding something like 'You have a story to continue tomorrow,' but thought the double meaning would be too cliché.
As Kvothe's eyes slammed shut, he departed.
…
The Chronicler was, predictably, not asleep as of yet. His room, having been barricaded for some easily guessed reason, had to be accessed from outside. Bast slipped in, either way, and gave their guest a list of rules and warnings to heed by whilst he listened to the story tomorrow.
He took them all in stride, less fearful than earlier, despite his obvious desire for strict precautions. Bast turned to leave, but found himself making a full circle, piercing the arcanist with a look.
"Aren't you at all curious as to why I'm doing this?" he asked doubtfully, apprehensive at the sudden change in treatment.
The Chronicler, eyes twinkling, regarded him with unbarred amusement. It wasn't judging, only content and with the lingering decay of surprise.
"I'm sure you're doing this for all the right reasons," he grinned, "Far kinder than mine,"
Bast regarded the walls, red and embarrassed, and tried failingly to regain his demeanor. He turned, making the rest of his way to the window less gracefully than he might of usually. The Chronicler, he knew, was here to reveal the man behind the legend. Bast, on the other hand…
He banished that thought, knowing that he still had to tend to the floors, and yet knowing that a story of a different sort had begun that night.
A/N: Well, there you go! I don't know if it's good at all, but I hope you enjoyed my little fantasy. It's kind of scary being the first to write in this category. Hope you all liked it!