The Eolian was bright with laughter and cheers as the final notes of "Dat ass, Dat ass" rang throughout the crowd. Kvothe took his time returning his lute to its case, basking in the warm reception.
As he made his way back to his table, accepting praise and claps on the back as he went, his eyes found something across the taproom that made his heart go cold. Or rather, someone. Ambrose.
He was standing at the entrance, leaning against the wall. Looking as unpleasant and well kept as always. His pale skin was smooth and Kvothe wondered how soft it might feel. His brown hair was mostly hidden by his massive, garish, purple hat. A long plume jutted out from the top in a manner that caused a tightness in Kvothe's lower abdomen. Aside from his hat, Ambrose seemed to be wearing new fashions from the high courts. Violet in color, of course, with gold trim around the hem.
Kvothe felt flushed. What made him most nervous, however, was the look on Ambrose's face. Replacing his usual scowl, was a smirk. He looked downright pleased with himself. That couldn't be good. Kvothe decided the best course of action would be to confront Ambrose head on and try to lessen the severity of any punishment he might receive.
Everything else forgotten, Kvothe headed over to the bar and ordered two blackberry brands. With the alcohol in his hands, he took a deep breath and moved across the room. Ambrose eyed him, amused. Kvothe stopped in front of him and held out a glass. Ambrose took it slowly, his long cold fingers lingering on Kvothe's.
"Why thank you. To what do I owe the pleasures of drinking with The Kvothe? The Song Slayer himself." Ambrose mocked, but there was something beneath it. He took a long sip. When he pulled the glass away, a drop of dark purple liquid clung to his lips. Kvothe swallowed as he watched Ambrose's tongue dart out to retrieve it.
"I wanted to apologize," Kvothe started, his voice thick. He cleared his throat before starting again. "I wasn't expecting you to be here tonight. You weren't supposed to hear the song."
"You're apologizing? Interesting. I mean, I can hardly blame you for your interest in my posterior. I do quite a bit of work on my body. Though, I must say, it was surprising hearing such things come from your lips." He practically purred the last sentence, and Kvothe finally realized what he was picking up in Ambrose's speech and body language. He was in heat. As hard as it was for him to believe, Ambrose was aroused.
"I imagine it would be hard for someone with ears as lovely and delicate as yours to hear such things come from any lips." Kvothe teased. He was just testing the waters, gauging the other man's reaction. He watched as Ambrose lit up a delightful shade of pink.
"I assure you my ears are the only thing lovely about me. You have yet to read my poetry. It would shock even a filthy minded heathen such as yourself." Ambrose's words were slightly harsh, but his eyes were all fire and promises.
"Well, go on then. I have to hear what you think would shock me." Kvothe challenged.
"Keep in mind, the meter is sprung." Ambrose spoke the last word in such a way that commanded a stirring in Kvothe's pants. Then he started:
'There once was a boy named Kvothe
With hair like fire, both north and south
A mind like like a fox, he reads many books
I'd like to sit my pretty ass on his huge dick"
A combination of the brandy and the sensual words and tone caused Kvothe to weaken at the knees. He stumbled forward into Ambrose's waiting arms.
"Let's cause a scene, shall we?" Ambrose whispered into Kvothe's ear, making him shudder.
Ambrose guided Kvothe to the nearest table, where they set their glasses down. Kvothe's legs finally gave out as he sat down hard in a chair. He was pleasantly surprised when Ambrose took a seat on his lap, wiggling his gorgeous ass against Kvothe's pulsing pocket rocket. Kvothe groaned, leaning into the other man's back to hide the sound.
"Oh no. There will be none of that. I want you to be loud. I want them to hear you all the way over the river." Ambrose's voice was so commanding and erotic that Kvothe let out another groan, louder this time. Still not loud enough to be heard by the other patrons in the Eolian.
Ambrose decided to kick things up a notch, clearly unsatisfied with the reaction he had elicited. He flipped around on Kvothe's lap so he was now straddling him. Using his long spindly fingers, he reached between them and started massaging Kvothe's pink torpedo through his trousers. This time, Kvothe moaned loud, high, and clear. Too overcome with pleasure and wanting, he was unaware of the hush falling over the crowded room.
Ambrose slid off of Kvothe's lap like a sexy seal, rubbing his beef whistle with the entirety of his body before settling on his knees. Kvothe's breath stalled in anticipation. He arched up in the chair to help Ambrose pull his pants to his ankles. Ambrose wasted no time in engulfing Kvothe's bratwurst in his warm, wet mouth. Kvothe crooned, entwining his fingers in Ambrose's hair. Ambrose sucked and sucked, paying special attention to a sensitive spot on the underside of Kvothe's yogurt gun. He seemed intent on getting as much noise from Kvothe as possible. Kvothe however, felt desperate. He needed more.
All public decency out the window, Kvothe pulled Ambrose from his tonsil tickler and flipped him over, pressing his chest against the table with his pert patootie sticking up. Ambrose let out a low groan and waggled in need. Kvothe struck his bussy, generating a shriek and a captivating jiggle from the man below him. Seeing the quiver in Ambrose's badonkadonk, he could wait no longer. Kvothe tore at Ambrose's pants, pulling them down as quickly as he could. No thought in his mind other than sinking his stick shift into those supple cheeks.
With sweat as lube, Kvothe plunged into Ambrose with one reckless shove. Both men cried out, their voices twinning in perfect harmony. Kvothe took a moment to enjoy the feeling of Ambrose's tight sphincter. Ambrose had other plans. He used his weight to guide Kvothe roughly back down to his seat. Now on Kvothe's lap again, Ambrose pulled himself up. Leaving just the mushroom cap inside of him, before sitting down hard, sheathing himself on Kvothe's meat sword. Again, their voices blended perfectly. Ambrose continued to ride Kvothe's sea monster with a vigor never seen before, their voices mixing beautifully in the silence of the taproom.
Finally, Ambrose could feel Kvothe shaking beneath him. He was nearing his pinnacle as well. Their voices and bodies reached their climax at the same time, sticky seed erupting from both of their fuck sticks. As their meat snakes finished twitching and spurting, so did the final note of their song die out. Only to be replaced with booming applause.
Kvothe came to abruptly, finally aware of what had just happened and where. He scrambled to pull his pants back on, face burning. Ambrose, however, took his time. He seemed completely comfortable with what had just happened. He almost seemed pleased with himself, as if he knew the applause was for him. Kvothe wanted to run but felt frozen. He was embarrassed and unsure. He watched uneasily as Stanchion took the stage and cleared his throat, effectively silencing the crowd.
"Ambrose Jakis, would you join me please?" Stanchion requested, his voice tinged with respect.
"I'll be back." Ambrose murmured to Kvothe before heading to the stage. He was greeted warmly by Stanchion.
"I think I speak for everyone here," Stanchion started, motioning to the audience. "When I say that was the best music I have heard in a long time. You truly have mastery over your craft. I've never heard someone play the skin flute that well."
Ambrose blushed and puffed his chest out, clearly pleased with himself. Kvothe watched in shock as Stanchion held out his hand. Ambrose took it tentatively, suddenly a little unsure. When he pulled his hand back, he spent a moment staring at his palm before holding something up for everyone to see. His talent pipes. The applause was deafening.