Letters
Title: Letters
Author: whytewytch4
Word Count: 1078
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Light sex, some body parts mentioned
Characters: Allan, my OFC Deirdre
Disclaimer: Tiger Aspect and the BBC own the rights to Robin Hood 2006. No copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made.
Summary: Allan gets taught his letters while staying in the castle.
A/N: Set during the time that Allan was working for “Team Leather”, with my OFC from my fan fiction writing. This is an original scene that was hinted at in my story.
Allan and Deirdre were sitting in the little room off of her bedroom. At the table before them were scraps of old parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. The room was warm, despite the snow falling outside, and smelled spicy from the cider that was heating over the fire. Deirdre wore a plain light blue gown that highlighted her long, unbound blonde hair and her blue eyes. Allan wore the deep blue shirt that Deirdre had given him, glad to be out of the black leathers that creaked and groaned in the cold weather.
Deirdre picked up the quill and dipped it into the ink, pressing it to the parchment to make marks-two lines that joined at the top, running down at angles from each other with a line connecting those two.
“We’ll start with ‘A’, which is the first letter of your name. ‘A’ for ‘Allan’ and also for ‘apple’. Can you think of other words that begin with ‘A’?”
Allan sat, deep in thought, his brain gone blank, his eyebrows drawn in concentration.
“Take your time, Allan. Would you like some cider?” she asked as she rose and went over to the cauldron. Allan watched her bend over to scoop up the liquid, his mouth gone suddenly dry. He licked his lips and before he could stop himself had blurted out, “Ass!”
Deirdre stiffened and turned to look back at him, a bemused smile playing on her lips as she glanced back at her own bottom.
“I’m glad I could be an inspiration,” she mocked as she made her way back to the table to show him how to draw the letter.
Her hair teased his cheek as she leaned over his shoulder, taking hold of his hand to show him how to hold the quill and how to dip it in the ink and guide it along the paper. Allan found it hard to concentrate on the simple straight lines with the scent of her skin in his nostrils and it took far longer than it should have to master the first letter.
“Now we’ll try “L”,” Deirdre declared. “It’s another simple letter, and should only take us another hour,” she teased, looking at the level of the candle as it counted the hours.
Allan grinned back; he loved being teased by Deirdre. She was a lady who was not, her mother having been a kitchen maid and her dad a great lord who had the ear of kings and princes.
She had finagled her way into staying at the castle until she could be escorted home by her father in the spring; since her father was such a powerful man, Vasey had reluctantly let her stay in order to avoid incurring the great man’s wrath. Somehow, Allan still didn’t know how or why, she had expressed an interest in him, but Guy had set his sights on her, trying to gain more power through her father, and so they had to find ways to see each other that seemed innocent. It had been Deirdre’s idea to teach Allan his letters-her reasoning had been twofold: to spend time with Allan away from prying eyes, and also to raise him up in her father’s eyes.
Deirdre showed him the simple lines for “L”. “”L’ is for ‘light’, and is the second letter of your name, as well as the third. Can you think of something else that begins with ‘L’?”
Allan was completely enthralled with the way her tongue touched her upper lip when she said the letter; he was having some very nasty images run through his head and his pants suddenly felt too tight in the crotch. His eyes devoured her face as he responded.
“Lips.”
Deirdre laughed, the sound low and throaty, and not at all helpful to the current state of his pants.
“Yes, and ‘lick’,” she teased wickedly, mimicking the gesture.
“And ‘lean’,” Allan murmured, pulling her close to him and pressing his mouth to hers.
Deirdre leaned into him, opening her mouth to his assault, the top of her dress straining the material as her breathing became ragged.
After a moment, he gently pushed her away, knowing that if they didn’t stop, there would be no stopping; Deirdre blinked at him, owl-eyed, with a dreamy look on her face.
“We should get back to the letters, eh?” he whispered hoarsely and Deirdre shook herself, turning brusquely back to the table. They were both flushed from more than just the heat of the room. Deirdre cleared her throat, trying to remember where they had been. The letters on the paper appeared far too fuzzy to read.
“Where were we?” she asked in a small voice.
“I think it was ‘L’,” Allan responded, some of his cockiness returning in the light of her reactions.
“Yes, ‘L’. So, next is another ‘a’. Make the marks just like the first one. Good. Now comes ‘N’.” Deidre showed him how to make the letter-the three straight lines that all connected to one another.
“’N’ is for ‘nose’ and ‘night’.”
Allan’s breathing had been steadying, but at the thought of another one of his favorite things that sounded like it started with “N” and was practically staring him in the face as she stood beside him, he had to fight for control again. He shook his head from side to side, rising quickly to make his way to the door, stopping to try to wrestle control back before he stepped into her bedroom, which was currently occupied by her maids; he didn’t want to scare the ladies with the current state of his body.
Sheriff Vasey naked, Sheriff Vasey naked, Sheriff Vasey naked, he kept thinking.
“Allan?” Deirdre’s voice behind him made him jump.
“I gotta be goin’, Deirdre,” he nearly whined as she turned him to plant a very unchaste kiss on his lips.
“All right, but tomorrow we start with ‘B’,” she breathed against his mouth. Allan wrenched the door open and ran into the room before swaggering his way to the door, followed by the soft titters of the ladies. Once outside her chamber door, he leaned back and let out a huge breath.
“B” was going to be bad enough-he wondered what letter made the “sh” sound, and hoped he would be able to keep from saying it, or more to the point, from doing it. Deirdre’s father would kill him if he shagged his daughter.