Terrible Company Ch. 05

"What do we call you?" June asked breathily.

Ayen placed his hands delicately along Rolf's jawline, and held him there as the kiss finally drifted to an end. "Lord will suffice." The soft schlick-schlick of her hand between her thighs was music to his ears. "My name was not meant for your tongue. Now," he said, turning slightly, "I need to be very wet for this. Do you think you could oblige?" June leapt forward on her knees, gratefully taking his cockhead inside her mouth.

"I—" Rolf started, but Ayen turned back to him and silenced him with another kiss. His tongue wormed between the Human's shocked lips, and found the young man eager.

"You were not forgotten," Ayen said in a brief pause for breath. His hands slid down over Rolf's neck and shoulders. Over his brawny chest. Ayen loved the masculine ones, thick muscles under coarse hair. Especially if he was topping them. The curves of a strong man were vastly underrated in Ayen's opinion. One arm slid around behind Rolf, hand splayed against the Human's lower back. So warm against his palm. His other hand settled on top of June's head, and he guided himself further into the back of her mouth. "Wetter, or young Rolf here will be very cross."

June whimpered as she worked, the soft schlick-schlick of her fingers barely audible over the rustling of the trees at the edge of the clearing. Ayen reached further down and grabbed a handful of Rolf's thick flank. The human grunted and rose up on his toes, right into another long kiss. June's soft moaning and fingering broadcast her approval.

"Spit on it," Ayen commanded, leaving Rolf breathless and gasping. June moaned again as she backed off and spat, slathering pre-cum and saliva across his shaft. "Kneel before the Wood Lord, human."

Rolf lowered himself hesitantly onto hands and knees. Ayen could barely hide his grin when he saw how hard the young Human was; he couldn't hide how hard it made him though, and June whimpered again. The girl was a whimper-machine.

Ayen felt a giddy lightheadedness as he knelt down behind Rolf. His rigid cock stood out like a flagpole. He hummed happily as he placed his hands on Rolf's cheeks, and separated. June gasped and twitched, her first orgasm coming early and hard. Ayen hoped it wouldn't be her last, as her convulsing and purring was entirely pleasing to watch.

He kept one hand firm on the Human's cheek, holding it to the side, while the other guided his considerable length to the pucker. Rolf looked back fearfully over his shoulder. "Focus on her," Ayen said. June sat back on her heels, panting. "See how she glows? See the flush in her cheeks?" Rolf turned to look, nodding dumbly, and Ayen seized the moment. He spat a wad of saliva onto his head and pushed.

"Oh Gods!" Rolf screamed, his face tight with strain.

"Just Lord will do, thank you." Ayen took a deep breath, and relished the soft schlick-schlick sound echoing through the clearing again. "Brace yourself. I'm going to push further."

"Is it almost all the way in?"

"No," Ayen said with a chuckle. "No, it is not." He grabbed the Human's hips tightly and thrust again, drawing a throaty whine from his plaything. The way Rolf clenched down on him felt amazing, but he had miles to go. Figuratively. "Relax, human."

Rolf groaned and twisted, but the pressure never let up. Ayen thought for a moment, and then backed out slowly. "June, if you're not too busy," he crooned, "would you let us borrow a little of your nectar?"

June blinked through the haze of pleasure, and then eagerly scooted across the grass on her knees. "Oooh, you're gaping!" she said, as she pushed two dripping fingers into his rectum.

"Don- oh Goooods..." Rolf head dropped forward, and he groaned delicately while she probed his ass.

"There," she whispered, giving each of her fingertips a quick suckle. "I'm so proud of you, tadpole." She moved up next to his head, her nails trailing lightly along his back. "We're gonna raise a God."

How many mushrooms did they eat? he wondered.

Ayen scooted forward again, and was met with far less resistance with his second push. Rolf groaned again, just as hard and deep as the first time. His hands formed fists, ripping blades of grass as they tightened, and his toes curled back into the pads of his bare feet as Ayen pushed smoothly inside.

"There," Ayen crowed, as his hips came to rest against the Human's cheeks. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Rolf groaned wordlessly, and June leaned over him to look.

"Wooooooow," she said distantly, as she stared down at his reddened ring. Ayen indulged in the sight of her pert breasts and tender, pink nipples, but his cock ached to thrust. "Oh tadpole, you should see this. It's incredible!"

"Would you like to help, dear one?" Ayen couldn't resist playing up the dialogue, and June couldn't agree to help fast enough. "Grab his cheeks there and there, and spread them gently." Her eyes lit up as she stared down, and Ayen savored that first pull back from the hilt. Rolf cried out as he started pushing again. "Gently, my dear."

June nodded absently; her eyes were locked, absolutely, on the stretched ring of her lover. Every time he moaned, she moaned with him. Every time Ayen pushed in, her eyes widened in wonder like a child witnessing a magical disappearing act.

"It feeee-oh Gods! ...feels like you're... like you're..."

"Yes," Ayen boomed, although he knew he was losing some of his showiness.

"...in my stomach," Rolf finally finished.

"I may be gifted," Ayen grunted, "but even I'm not that gifted."

"Ooooh fuuuuck," Rolf moaned, as Ayen sped up. "Oh Fuck."

Ayen pressed a finger underneath June's chin, and lifted her awe-struck face to his. She tasted like raspberries. "Were this... any other day," he said, regaining a little composure, "I would ravish you properly, next." June whimpered happily, and he kissed her again. He had to switch his rhythm to stay still enough to be kissed, using his hands to pull and push Rolf backward and forward. To his delight, he didn't have to pull and push very hard; Rolf was doing half the work on his own.

He had to break the kiss moments later. His hips would not be denied. He roared as he felt his loins clenching in anticipation. Faster and faster, he pounded. June fell away beside him and touched herself again, her soft whimpers decorating the air. Faster and faster. Rolf screamed again, his hole tightening viciously around Ayen's girth. Faster and faster. Ayen's mind raced, as he drew near, for an appropriately God-like reaction to orgasm, but as the moment arrived and he threw back his head, all he could come up with was "Excelsior!"

"Ohmygods," June whined. Schlick-schlick. "Ohmygods! OhMyGods!" Her small voiced thinned and thinned and her thighs clamped together tightly, hiding everything below the wrist. Rolf heaved, his throat raspy.

"This burden is not on him alone," Ayen said raggedly, knowing full well he'd lost the tone. Neither of them seemed to notice or care. "My heir will exact a great toll on his body. He won't appear pregnant as a woman does, but he'll need constant sex to ease the pressure." Rolf slumped forward into the grass. Ayen couldn't help tilting his head to stare down into the cum-leaking gape in the Human's backside, and smirked. "Whelp, gotta go. Important God business to attend to."

"Thank you, great Lord of Wood!" June's tired voice followed him as he strode, on wobbly legs, toward the edge of the clearing. "Thank you for this blessing!"

***

"I smell Bard," Val grumbled.

Mathilda leaned toward the redhead, sniffed, and shrugged. "Smells fine to me. Tha' a body wash, lass?"

"Essence of passion lotus," Ivy said, beaming.

" 'at's nice."

"Not her," the big Orc grumbled. "I'm smelling..." Val took another whiff, and her lips twisted. "...rosin."

"Don't tha' comes from pine trees?"

"Which there aren't a lot of here in the south," Val turned and shouted. "Are we all on the same page now?!"

"No' even close, lass." Mathilda didn't back down a hair. "What's tha' concern? Tha' they'll sing us to death?"

"I'd have thought we'd be natural allies on this, Tilly. They're probably hiding in the trees!"

Mathilda fumed; the leather grip of her hammer creaked inside her whitened fist. "Wha' did you call meh?" Val took a step closer to the Dwarf, who was not perturbed in the least that she was looking practically straight up. "My people carve out mountains fer breakfast. Wha' makes you think yer any dif'rent?"

"Aren't you going to do something?" Ivy whispered.

"One of 'em is about to take the other one down a peg," Katsa replied, her arms folded defensively across her small chest. "I'm fine with it either way."

Without looking away, Mathilda asked, "Can tha' book resolve disputes?"

"How many times do I have to explain this?!" the Arcanist screeched.

"134," Ivy said, pulling out her notebook.

"Meister Eu'Vitreo's Compendium on transmorphic multidimensional field theory is..."

"Nobody cares!" the Dwarf roared.

"...is a groundbreaking and exceedingly rare—"

"Kat!" Val cried. "Shut up!"

Katsa bristled, her ire pulsing in time with a rhythmic thudding in her ears. She began mentally preparing a blistering response, but... Val and Mathilda's eyes were tight with strain. Neither had broken their stare, but it was clear they both wanted to. Dum dum. Dum dum. Ivy turned and peered into the forest behind her. Dum dum. Dum dum.

It wasn't pounding or thudding. Someone... Many someones... were all saying, "Dum dum. Dum dum," together.

Val looked away first, and growled deep in her throat. "Bards."

From behind trees and bushes, in front of them and to either side of the path, they appeared. At least 30 strong, armed with an assortment of bows and crossbows, all chanting "Dum dum. Dum dum." Nine more traipsed —traipsed!— across the footpath ahead in lock step.

"Weeeell," sang the first three.

"By Rhogan, are they mad?"

"Weeeell," sang the second three, exactly two notes higher.

"Weeeell," sang the last, three and a half notes above the second.

"Weeeell," all nine repeated, forming a perfect three-part harmony.

"This is a nightmare," Val said hoarsely. "I'm asleep, and this is a nightmare."

That's when the singing and choreographed dancing began.

"Roses are red

and Dandelions yellow.

If you came seeking violence

You found the right fellows!"

All 30 of them bopped and spun and shimmied and wiggled in perfect unison. Ivy gleefully clapped along to the beat, eyes full of wonder, as the show unfolded. Katsa stared slack-jawed, finding she-couldn't-tell-how-many more swaying on or swinging from branches above. That many more weapons pointed, ostensibly, at them. Val's arm moved slowly toward the knives she kept along her belt.

"Don't," Mathilda said, grabbing the green-skinned wrist.

"We're a right nasty bunch (so don't even try it!)

We'll hack off your leg and deep fry it!"

"Why not?" Val snarled.

"Ooooh, We are the meanest! A real gang of thugs!

Just ask the man playing the jugs!"

A one-legged man, sitting on a stump in the back, shrugged and nodded. Ivy squealed with glee.

"D'ye want yer first real decision while yer in charge to be a bloodbath?" The Dwarf grinned. "S'abit cliche, innit? An Orc resortin' ta violence at tha drop of'a hat?" Veins burst from Val's neck and forehead as she struggled to contain herself.

"On your left! On your right! We are all around!

In no time at all, we will have you bound!

Your corpse, in a hole where you'll never be found!

Unless, from your pockets, you hand over crowns!"

"Gold, that is," sang a particularly deep-voiced fellow as he appeared on the path behind them. "Yellow oil. Lannister G."

Dozens of them skipped —skipped!— in two circles, one moving clockwise inside another moving counterclockwise, singing "Please drop your weapons!" in a continuous two-part round. Mathilda couldn't stop herself from laughing; in part, at Val's attempts to refrain from spectacular violence, and in part at the sheer absurdity of her surroundings. Ivy cheered enthusiastically.

***

"Gold, that is," Ivy sang, as she snapped her fingers happily. "Yellow Oil." She smiled again and scribbled in her notebook. "Lannister—"

"Shut Up!" Val roared. The big Orc paced frantically.

Mathilda, laying on her back in the corner of their small cage, peeked an eye open. "Don' take it pers'nally, lass. She's no' mad at you."

"Yer right!" she shouted, pointing. "I'm pissed at you!"

The Dwarf snorted and resettled herself in the grass. "Oh ya. This is my fault."

"If you hadn't stopped me—"

"If Ah hadn't stopped ya," Mathilda snapped, "those two'd be dead. Maybe me too. That sound like a win by yer reckonin'?"

"Yeah, because of course a bunch of bards know how to shoot a bow."

The Healer sat up and frowned. "Why do ye think ya smelled rosin? Hmm? Protects tha strings, dunnit?" she asked, turning to Ivy. "Helps'm stay nice an' taut?"

"Well actually—" Ivy started, but Mathilda went right on past her.

"I di'nt see any a'them with their arrows loaded backwards, did you?"

"So they must be master criminals!" Val ranted. "And crack shots!"

"They're still bards," Mathilda scoffed, as she laid back down. "No offense."

"None taken," Ivy said brightly, if a bit unsure why she would be offended.

"Tha diff'rence," she continued, as she tried to get comfortable again, "issat Ah'm willin' to wait til they show me how they're incompetent b'fore Ah act onnit."

"Prisoners!" Everyone turned as a small group of their captors, bows in hand, approached the door to their poorly-cobbled wooden cage. The speaker, wearing a jaunty feathered cap, smirked maliciously. "Interrogation time! Who's first?"

"See?" Mathilda interlaced her fingers behind her head and smiled upwards. "Matter'a time."

"We'll start with the Orcess."

***

"Feedback?" Val blinked uncomprehendingly.

"Exactly!" the first bandit exclaimed. "As our inaugural captives, you're the first outsiders to see our unique mix of thievery and showmanship."

The second one jumped right in. "We were hoping to get some reactions, both initial and after-the-fact, to help us refine the production."

The Orc flexed and clenched her fists. Her forearms shook as she tried to keep them still and settled against the rests of her needlessly-comfortable chair.

"Anything you can suggest would be helpful," the first one said. "From weapons choice, to choreography, to location. We want it all."

"Be brutal." The second bandit's eager expression utterly perplexed Val. "Sometimes, we get so... sort of..."

"In our own heads?"

"Yeah!" the second agreed, and the first one nodded vigorously. "We can just completely lose sight of the point."

Val stared down at the table for a moment, processing. She glared at the two buffoons and thought about how easy it would be to just reach across the table and throttle them. She thought about the two guards behind her, and how she could effortlessly tear her chair into a dozen pieces of about the right size to bludgeon a Human to death. She thought about the two young guards beside her, and how all she'd have to do was stand up and yell 'Boo!' to send them running with a fresh stain in their breeches.

And then she thought about her mother, and since Val couldn't think of anything nice to say, she didn't.

***

The two bandits glanced at each other in confusion as Mathilda threw back her head and laughed uproariously.

***

"I thought you might ask that," Ivy said excitedly. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out two of her yellow journals. "I made some notes."

***

"No no," Mathilda wheezed. "No. This time, Ah promise. Go ahead." She wiped her hands across her cheeks, smearing tears.

"We were hoping—" The second bandit hung his head in frustration as Mathilda burst into a fresh round of hysterics.

***

"I was with you guys up until the 'chop off your leg and deep fry it' part. The imperfect cadence really threw me, and the whole realism of your work really staggers at that point."

"You think we were overselling the threat level?" the first bandit asked, as he stared pointedly at the second.

"Exactly," Ivy replied, oblivious as she stared down at her notes. "The tone of it was a little at odds with the bright color scheme you guys chose for the uniforms, the jazz hands, and the high-kicking backup dancers to the left and right."

"What did I say?" the first bandit said, holding his arms out. "Did I not say that exact same thing?"

"Here we go!" The second bandit folded his arms over his chest and sulked. "Why do you always have a problem with jazz hands?!" Ivy looked up from her notes and calmly waited for a break in the conversation to continue.

***

"Anything?" the second bandit asked. "Anything at all?"

Ten more seconds, Val thought to herself. Just make it through this next ten seconds. That's not so hard, right?

***

"Rhogan's crotch, I needed tha'." Mathilda sat back, red-faced and heaving. "Say what you will abou' tha' miserable bastard; 'es go' a sense'a 'umor."

"Are you quite finished?"

"Aye. Sorry abou' tha'. Had a run of the giggles." Mathilda coughed and shook her head. "Ye were wanting... feedback?"

"Yes," the first bandit replied in exasperation.

"On yer... performance?" she tittered.

"You know what? Nevermind. Take her back," the second one said.

"She thinks we're a joke," the first one commiserated.

"No, hey!" the second bandit said, grabbing the first one by the shoulder. "Don't listen to her. Don't let her taint what we're building here."

"Taint is right," Mathilda managed, before descending into another fit of full-throated cackling.

***

"—but you insisted on a round! You said it 'had to be a round'."

"Rounds are making a big comeback in the Tovekian theater circuit, right?" the second bandit said, turning to the redhead.

"Oh yes," Ivy agreed. "I—"

"See? I wanted us to be ahead of this thing for once, not just lagging a season behind like always!"

"We're not in Tovekia," the first bandit sniped. "We're in a backwater forest in backwater Salesia."

"Why can't you just accept that this is where we are? I'm trying to make the best of this, and all you can add is negativity."

"Because I want more out of life," the first bandit cried, "than the dog's dinner we've been handed."

The second bandit took a sharp breath and leaned back. "Is that what you think this is?" Both bandits paused, shocked to find themselves in such a critical conversation so suddenly.

"The jug player also wasn't... keeping very good..." Ivy wilted beneath the bleary, tear-filled stares directed at her. " ...time?"

***

"I was only trying to help," Ivy explained, as she was hustled back into the cage. The guards slammed and latched the door behind her, and stalked off like angry cats. "They're just lucky The Maestro didn't see that. He'd have had some harsh words for them, and then some really rough anal sex."