That same night, Bast awoke with a start, heart thudding hard against his ribs, fear coiled tight around his chest like a snake. He lay motionless for a long minute, trying to breathe, listening to his pulse beginning to slow in his eardrums. Slowly, inch by inch, he felt the coils of fear slacken as rationality crept back into his thoughts.
'Just a nightmare.' He breathed to himself, reassured.
He remained still for minute, eyes staring blind into the darkness, trying to remember the finer details of his dream. But already it was slipping from his fingers, a quick, silver fish; too agile and slick to grasp with ones hands for longer than a second. He felt his thoughts slow, becoming hazy and unfocused at the edges as the velvet black tide of sleep began to wash over him again….
A muffled, half formed sound pulled him from the shallow waters of his fleeting slumber. He broke the surface of consciousness for the second time that night and listened, still sleep-sodden and drenched in drowsiness, for the noise to come again.
Seconds ticked by before he heard it once more, distended, near inaudible. He sat up in bed, ears pricked now.
The sound came a third time, longer now, drawn out: A low wail. This instance its origin was easier to place. It came from below, perhaps to the right wing of the inn. His master's bedroom?
Fear and anger bit into his flesh and for an instant he thought of turning over and going back to sleep.
In the end, curiosity won out.
He pushed open the bedroom door and with the first glimpse of the bed, Bast knew his master must be sick. He could see in the flickering light of the fire that his brow was fevered; slick with perspiration and his face was flushed blotchily with colour. Despite their present estrangement, worry tugged at his insides.
And then, mere seconds later, his ears caught the frantic, heavy panting and the lightening quick realisation struck him like a slap to the face. He looked again, with different eyes this time and the sight of his master asleep yet barely clothed, tangled in blankets, undone, was almost too delicious to believe.
He stood immobile in the door frame, staring, heart racing. The uncomfortable awareness that he had walked in on something carnal and inexpressibly private began to creep up his spine, unimpeded until….
'Oh god…'
The gasp was breathless, pleading.
The shock of the sudden sound faltered his erratic heartbeat for a short second. He watched on, paralyzed, as his master writhed, fists knotted in the sweat-damp sheets.
'Sweet God, don't….. UH… don't stop…..'
The ragged breathing was almost deafening in the quiet room. The sleeper groaned deep in his throat and rolled over, tugging the sheets tight against his body, grinding against the taut fabric. The outline of his stiff member became painfully evident beneath the covers.
Bast knew he should leave. Turn around, go back to bed and pretend this had never happened. But by this point he could feel the warmth pooling in his groin. Feel his breeches pulling taught against his crotch and he knew with complete certainty that was never, ever, in a million years, going to happen.
His Reshi was whimpering now in ecstasy, he could see his hips rising off the bed, his mouth opening, moving, searching for the shape of a word.
And now Bast too was achingly hard, practically rubbing himself against the door frame for relief, eyes glued to the writhing form in the bed.
Without thinking he felt his feet move him farther into the room, his hand – as if someone elses- pushed the door to behind him. Then he stood, wide eyed, at the foot of the bed, beyond aroused and uncertain of what to do next.
The only sounds were the soft friction of skin against linin and the low hiss of rapid, shallow breathing.
And then, incredibly, it came; the panted word, dropped into the sweat tinged air like a bead from a broken necklace.
'Baaast'
He froze, disbelieving. Sure his ears had failed him.
'Baaasst, fuuuuucckkkkkk….'
Kvothe shifted erratically in his sleep, the bed clothes sliding off the mattress with one fluid motion. And if the sound of his name alone hadn't done it, the sight of the sweat slicked body, naked and moaning with pleasure was beyond an invitation.
He sank to his knees on the soft mattress and, careful not to wake his master, climbed slowly onto the bed. His breathing hitched in his throat at the closeness of the naked form.
'Uhh…..'
He bent his neck, lowering his head unbearably close to his Reshi's body and then hesitated, his lips hovering inches away from the heated skin of his abdomen.
Fuck. What the hell was he doing?
He was frozen, uncertain and then, recklessness clouding all other concerns, he broke the last few centimetres of space between them.
The silken flesh was smooth and salty as butter against the sensitive skin of his lips.
Excitement blossomed like a crimson poppy in the pit of his stomach and he hungrily replaced his lips with his tongue, tasting the saline sheen of sweat, letting his mouth drift ever downwards, kissing, nipping until he reached the soft trail of bronze hair below his master's belly-button.
He paused, suddenly hesitant. The renewed moans his actions had elicited were encouragement enough but… somewhere in the back of his mind the argument at the dinner table still weighed heavily.
He proceeded slowly…. experimentally…
He dipped his head again and for the shortest second he allowed the supple skin of his lips to brush, almost imperceptibly along his master's straining arousal.
His teacher gasped in his sleep. The desire in that one, soft sound travelled straight between his legs.
When for a second time he brought his mouth down, flicked his tongue over the hard, throbbing flesh and his Reshi's hips bucked reflexively against his touch, he lost all control. In one fluid movement he allowed the entire length of his master to slide into his mouth, exulting in the taste of him, the feel of him stretching his lips.
His Reshi was keening now, thrusting into his mouth so erratically that he bumped the back of his throat.
Overcome with lust he rubbed himself against the mattress, revelling in the delicious friction it created. He was so turned on he knew could come just from this. Just from the feel of his master's cock in his mouth and his own arousal against the sheets.
'Mmnnn…. Fuck me Bast,'
He froze. Sweet, unholy mother of Tehlu. Did he hear right?
The thought of it was delicious, dangerous, unspeakably arousing. In that second he wanted it so badly he was surprised it hadn't crossed his mind before. But by God it was So. Damn. Wrong.
And suddenly the realisation of just what exactly he was doing hit him like a ton of bricks.
His master was asleep, unconsenting. He had no idea what he was doing. This was at best taking advantage, at worst…. Well he didn't even want to think about it. The word made him nauseous.
A moan from below him bought him back to reality; 'Pleease Bast,'
He was completely torn, he knew how immoral, how despicable this was, knew that he should put an end to this now, before it got out of hand-
Ugh, who was he kidding; it was way out of hand already, but still, he thought, its best to quit while you're ahead.
Oh God, but the sight of his Reshi, without a stitch on him, practically begging to be taken was almost too much to bear.
'Pleease…'
Overcome with something that lived in his chest, something he could barely explain, he gave in. He bought his mouth down to meet his master's and felt surprise when it responded, opened to allow his tongue entrance, sighed when he bit gently on the flesh of the lower lip. He shifted forwards, grinding his hips between his master's thighs.
He was gasping against his Reshi's neck now, his hands wanted to be all over him; at his hips, his back, his ass. He quickly spat onto his hand before his mouth found his master's jaw again, sucking at the salty stubble he discovered there as his fingers, now slick with saliva, explored and then found what they had been searching for.
His master yelped in pleasure.
And too soon, he knew, before he could even fathom what he was doing, he lost all restraint and pushed himself inside.
It was too much. Too. Goddamn. Good.
His fists twisted in the sheets, mouth dropping open. He closed his eyelids tight, stilling himself, trying so hard not to come right there and then.
When he had finally gained enough control to open his eyes again, he was met with an unfaltering emerald gaze.
And that my friends, is most likely the end of it! Probably won't be writing anymore chapters unless any of you really want me to. This last one nearly killed me! Didn't envision it getting quite that graphic (or rapey to be honest, lol) but that just seems to be where my sick little mind took it! :) I almost wasn't going to post it but haters gunna hate and all that. DON'T JUDGE MEE! :)
Obviously thanks go to Patrick Rothfuss for all his awesome characters (I'm sorry I made them do horrific, unspeakable things :D) and general insperationalness – I bow down to your writing genius!
Hope you all enjoyed :)
Please review (good and bad) it's always nice to know what people think!