Keeping the Assassin Happy
Author: mideltone_one
Title: Keeping the Assassin Happy
Words: 10,000
Genre: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer:The Robin Hood characters written about here belong to Tiger Aspect and the British Broadcasting Corporation. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money being made. I don't own them - if I did I'd be too busy drooling to write! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Allan must keep the sheriff's guest happy.
Warnings: Set immediately before the start of 2x8 Get Carter!
Characters/Pairings: Allan/Carter
Allan was slightly out of breath as he came to a halt outside the main hall of Nottingham castle. It never did to make old misery knickers wait, but he chose to stand for a moment, and straighten his leather tunic, before walking into the hall. Vasey stood at the far end of the room, leaning over a table, his back to the door. It occurred to Allan that for a man with so many enemies, the sheriff was surprisingly nonchalant about turning his back to them; one day he would most likely find himself turned into an ennobled knife rack, but sadly not today.
“You called for me … my lord.” That last phrase always stuck in his throat somewhat, but it was a necessity of his current position.
“Gisborne let you out of his chambers then” murmured Vasey, turning to face the room. Allan wasn’t sure he liked the implication that he was being kept like a pet, or sexual plaything, in his master’s quarters, but it wasn’t the first time he’d been taunted like this, and he no longer reacted to it, which seemed to annoy the sheriff. That definitely made it worth doing.
“‘E wasn’t around when I was summoned” he said calmly.
“Oh good,” said Vasey, in a voice which, whilst perfectly functional, was dripping with perverted overtones, “that’ll make things a lot easier.” Allan shifted slightly, becoming more concerned for his own survival with each passing moment. “I have a very special guest staying for a few days, on a mission that will, if successful, make me happier than you could imagine. He has requested somebody to train with. Given his abilities none of the guards would be a match for him, so you -”, Allan felt a sudden bloom of pride in his chest, “- are a better choice. I can ill afford to lose another guard, but you’re quite dispensable.” The younger man’s pride wilted as quickly as it had grown. “I suppose Gisborne would be a bit ticked off if you died, so try not to. He’s distracted enough with Marian gone at the moment. One more thing and he’ll be no use to me whatsoever.”
Now it was clear the regard he was held in by his betters, Allan decided there was no point putting off the inevitable. “So where is ‘e? An’ ‘ho is ‘e?”
“His name is Carter, one of the Knights Templar, and he will be out on the training ground practising his sword skills, if he’s as dedicated as he claims to be. Now go and find him before he gets angry. An angry assassin is never a good thing.” Allan walked to the door, but stopped for a moment when the sheriff’s dulcet tones rang out across the hall. “Oh, and keep him away from Gisborne. Our sir Guy has the stench of failure about him. I don’t want Carter being infected by it. I trust I make myself clear.”
“Crystal.”
“Good.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The walk to the training ground was uneventful enough, and there was no problem identifying the knight in question, since he was the only person in sight. Tall, slim, and with a head of short blond hair, his back was to Allan as the ex-outlaw approached. “Carter? I’m Allan, Allan a Dale. The sheriff told me you wanted a training partner?”
“You’re late.” A powerful voice almost entirely devoid of emotion; quite unnervingly cold and flat.
“I came as soon as I was told.”
“There is a sword on the ground to your left. Now stop talking and defend yourself.”
Allan sprang into action, his experiences with the gang in the forest brought to the front of his mind. He’d always been good at defending himself - he was still here wasn’t he? - so this shouldn’t be too difficult. He darted over to the sword and picked it up, making sure the dagger he kept hidden about his person was in easy reach as well. “I’m guessing from your movements that you’re ready,” said Carter, “so let battle commence.” Allan readied himself, but could not have prepared for the shock he got when his opponent turned to face him. The most piercing pair of blue eyes he’d ever seen turned to him, and seemed to bore into the back of his head. There was a quality about the man’s face, which was truly masculine, and yet somehow feminine at the same time. When he licked his lips, whilst appraising the situation, Allan felt a shiver run down his spine; the sort of shiver he usually got when a buxom lass came into view.
Shaking his head, Allan tried to work out what was happening to him. He was a ladies man, through and through, never happier than when he was surrounded by women, anything from the roughest serving girl to, at the other extreme, nuns. And yet for some unknown reason his body was betraying him now. His mouth had gone dry, and a lump was starting to form in his breeches. He pulled himself together. All this was simply because he hadn’t bedded a wench in some time; his body was telling him that once he had finished here, he needed to go to a nearby tavern, find a willing woman, pound her senseless for as long as it took, have a few ales and fall into his bed, satisfied in all the ways a red blooded male could want. He focused on the knight before him, trying not to get distracted again by those eyes.
The first few moves and parries went pretty much as Allan had expected. The training he’d had with Robin and Much had taught him effective strategies to out manoeuvre the attacks coming his way. “It seems the monkey has learnt some of its master’s skills” said Carter, a hint of excitement now in his voice.
Allan momentarily let his anger rise. Guy had had no part in teaching him these skills; he resented the implication that he couldn’t learn on his own. And being compared to a monkey. “Not bein’ funny, but this means war!” he shouted, before readying himself again.
“So be it” came the reply, the voice becalmed again. The fifth time the knight moved in to strike, the ex-outlaw managed to move so he was pressed up against his opponent. Unable to strike one another, the two men stayed locked together for a fraction of a second before parting. It was just long enough for the scent of the man to make its way to Allan’s nose.
This was really odd. There was nothing remotely feminine about the musky scent coming off Carter, and yet it seemed to have found its way straight to Allan’s groin. He now had an aching hardness in his breeches; a hardness that was demanding immediate attention regardless of the consequences. Stepping back a pace or two Carter looked directly at him again. An image of those lips pressing against his own filled Allan’s head for a moment. He tried not to think about it. He must be going mad he decided. He did not want this man to kiss him, absolutely not, under no circumstances. He started repeating the phrase “don’t fancy him” under his breath, hoping against hope that repetition would turn worthless words into fact.
Any such hopes vanished when those lips curled into a seductive knowing grin. He’d always thought the saying "going weak at the knees" was just a meaningless phrase. Now, however, it was coming true. He stumbled forward, momentarily leaving himself open to attack. The unwitting invitation was immediately exploited by Carter, who, within the blink of an eye, had Allan face down in the dust dagger out of reach, sword abandoned on the ground nearby, hands pinned behind his back. Struggling was pointless, and anyway, he reasoned, this was just training; once his vanquisher had completed his little routine that would be that, and he could spend the rest of the day traipsing round the castle pointing out things of interest, running simple errands, or, if he was lucky enough, relieving his obvious sexual tension. Carter positioned himself so he was kneeling upright on the small of his captive’s back.
“Normally I would kill my opponent, but you put up a good fight, so I will temper my usual behaviour. First, do you submit?”
Why bother arguing? “Yes, I submit.”
“Then instead of taking your life outright, I will take it for the day.” Visions of being severely injured swan across Allan’s mind, and the unexpected binding of his hands behind his back panicked him, causing him to struggle for escape. A sharp slap to the back of his head stilled him. “You belong to me for now, and you will behave yourself, or you will be punished. Now lie still while I finish tying your hands.” All sense of fight left his body, as he waited for whatever was coming next. The struggling on the ground had confirmed something else: his erection was still present, and if anything, the treatment being dished out to him now was making it harder. He’d never thought himself interested in being dominated, but here he was, his mind worried, but his body loving every second of it. Carter finished knotting the cord around his wrists, and leant in, his breath blowing warm air onto Allan’s ear. “My two passions,” he said quietly, “relate to death, ‘la grande mort’ and ‘la petite mort’. By avoiding the former, you have put yourself forward for the latter.” He chuckled to himself, leaving his companion bewildered; the ex-outlaw knew very little of French origin, unless you counted kissing in which he was very well versed.
The weight on his back vanishing signalled to Allan that his new master had stood up. “Stand.” He struggled to get up, deprived of his hands for a few moments, before a hand hooked itself around his collar, and pulled him upright. Nothing was making any sense to him at this moment, though he would swear the rough skinned fingers stroked across the back of his neck before being withdrawn. He felt the hairs stand up in response to the touch. It had been a long time since he’d been touched so delicately.
Spun around, he found himself inches away from that beautiful face again, its featured lit up now by a beaming smile, the joy of the mouth somehow reflected in the eyes. “We need to get you cleaned up, get all that dirt off you.” It was an odd choice of phrase. The last time anyone had said that to him, it had been his mother, and he had been no more than six years old. Then she had lifted up the corner of her apron, spat on it, and rubbed his face; he wondered if that was what was going to happen this time.
Expectations rose as Carter said, “What we need is a handkerchief,” before patting his body from chest to breeches. “Nothing here,” he continued, walking behind Allan, “let’s see if you’ve got anything worthwhile.” There was a definite innuendo in that statement, but it was pushed aside by the sudden onslaught of hands stroking up and down the boy’s torso and thighs. He wasn’t sure if he liked being touched like this. Actually, he was sure, or at least his body was, regardless of what his head told him he should be feeling. His erection, which had softened in the meantime was returning, and despite his best efforts to stop it, involving imagining the sheriff naked, it was staying put. Allan wasn’t in the habit of carrying handkerchiefs with him - if he wanted to wipe his nose he had two perfectly good sleeves - so the search was fruitless. Returning to a point in front of him, Carter stood considering his options for a moment, apparently gazing into the middle distance. Allan found himself unable to stop his eyes from flicking up and down the body before him. He didn’t know consciously what it was he was looking for, but something inside him appreciated what it saw. “Plan B then,” said the knight, “Follow me.” They set off towards the castle.
Allan had long ago realised that things very seldom went well for somebody of his social class, so he wasn’t especially surprised when they came to a halt beside a horse trough. He glanced down at the murky water, and knew instantly what was going to happen. Knowing, and experiencing were two quite different things, however, as the first of three buckets of freezing cold water hit him full force on the chest and face. He’d had the good sense to keep his mouth shut as soon as he saw the bucket dipping into the trough, which stopped the water going down his throat. Carter dropped the bucket beside the trough, and walked back to the spluttering boy’s side. “You’d be well advised to learn that I take cleanliness very seriously.”
It came as a welcome relief to Allan’s run of bad luck that when he and Carter made it to the castle almost all of the townsfolk were being rounded up in the main courtyard to be berated for not providing enough income to the sheriff. They were able to slip into the castle practically unnoticed. As they reached the knight’s quarters it occurred to Allan that he might now be in greater danger than before. When they were outside there was always the chance that a passerby would see them, which might have restricted his captor’s actions; now they would be out of sight, and anything could happen. He swallowed hard as the door to the chambers swung shut behind him. There was a moment of silence during which he heard his own heart beating loudly in his ears, before Carter spoke again. "I use a system of rewards to train my servants, and as I only have you for one day I am going to have to accelerate the normal pace I use. My system is based on behaviour. If you behave yourself you are rewarded, and if not, you are punished. I haven’t seen any evidence of outstandingly good behaviour so far, certainly not good enough to justify the high quality clothes you’re wearing, so I’m going to find you something more appropriate, and while I’m doing that you’ll take off that tunic …,” he pressed a finger against it, “… and fine linen shirt and put them on the chair over there. Oh, and if you’re considering running away, let me be clear that if you want to remain a boy, and not become a eunuch, you'll do exactly as you're told. I'm sure neither Vasey nor your master will give a damn what state I return you to them in. Do I make myself clear?"
"Absolutely" replied Allan, a wave of sickness washing over him as he considered the truth in what the knight had just said.
Running really wasn’t an option. Where, for example, would he run to? Nowhere within the law was safe from the sheriff and Gisborne. Becoming an outlaw again would make him a target for Robin. He really had backed himself into a corner. All he could do now was follow the commands of his new, albeit temporary, master to the letter, and hope he made it to the end of the day. He waited while Carter released the ropes binding his hands, making sure the knight was out of the room before he rubbed his wrists and stretched his arms. The tunic and shirt were removed sullenly; he’d never had such fine clothing, and the thought of losing it concerned him greatly. His concern grew when Carter strode back into the room with what looked like a pair of leather cuffs in his hand. Presumably these were to restrain him, though the thought of losing his most cherished of body parts was more than enough threat to make him stay.
As he approached, Carter barked an order "Hands out in front of you." Allan obeyed instantly; there could be no bargaining with this man, and once he was cuffed no way of retaliating. The cuffs were fixed in place with a buckle, leaving his hands together in front of him. He hadn't ever considered what this room was previously used for until his master picked up the rope that had bound his hands and threaded through a metal ring fixed into the ceiling above him. "Of course," said the knight, as he tied the rope to the cuffs, "any system with rewards for good behaviour needs a similar set of punishments for bad behaviour." He pulled on the rope forcing his servant's hands up into the air. "By way of demonstration" he said, pausing for a moment before swiftly bringing his hand into contact with the boy's breeches.
As a child Allan had suffered regular beatings at the hand of his father. It had never seemed to matter if he had or hadn't done wrong. He wasn't deluded enough to believe he'd been an angel, but he was certain a large proportion of his beatings were baseless. He had made Tom swear an oath, on their dear departed mother, after a particularly vicious attack that neither of them would give their father the satisfaction of a reaction. As Carter landed his blow all the techniques he had used as a child came back to him in an instant. Staying still and silent, his only movement a slight tightening of the jaw, Allan waited for the next blow.
Carter seemed puzzled by the reaction. He walked round his captive a couple of times rubbing his chin and looking down at the floor, before coming to rest behind the boy again. Hot breath landed on Allan's neck, causing an odd warm sensation throughout his body; this must be another reminder that he needed a wench, he decided. "It seems I'm going to have to up my game wherever you're concerned," said the knight, wrapping his arms around the boy, "but that's not a problem, not at all."
Discomfort turned to surprise as Allan saw hands take hold of the laces at the top of his breeches, and untie them. No man's hands had ever ventured there. Even more concerning was that he didn't find it disagreeable. Within moments the breeches were falling to the floor, collecting around his ankles. He felt his captor's surcoat pressing against his bare buttocks for a moment before withdrawing. "That's better," said Carter, "Now let's see what difference that makes."
Allan heard the rush of air just before the blow landed on his newly exposed flesh. Without meaning to, he hitched his breath, a sign the knight picked up on immediately. "Better," he said, before stepping back to admire his work, "and such a nice colour." He stroked the now reddened flesh softly, sending a shiver through the boy's body.
"Now that you understand my system," said Carter, "we can start your training properly. Just one more minor adjustment, and I can put you to work. Lift your legs up." Allan hung from the ceiling, hoping Carter would do whatever it was he intended doing, before the straps at his wrists cut through his skin. It was with a sense of relief that he heard his boots clatter onto the floor, quickly followed by his breeches. He was less pleased to see them kicked out of the way even though it did lead, moments later to the command "Put your legs down." Now stark naked, but still restrained, he should have been concerned, but his relief at getting the feeling back in his wrists overrode any fear.
Carter stood back for a moment, surveying his captive. "Good," he said after a few moments, "the sheriff has served me well, whether he knows it or not." His hand landed on Allan's shoulder, "I hope you're a quick learner, because I intend to work you very, very hard." On the last three words he rocked the boy backwards and forwards, sending fear and excitement through him in equal measure.
"Let's see if you've been paying attention to what I say" said Carter, walking in front of the boy. "What did I say I take very seriously?"
Allan wracked his brains for a moment searching for an answer he was sure he new. He was relieved when it came to mind. "Cleanliness ... sir." He congratulated himself on remembering to add the honorific.
"Well done" replied the knight, flashing the killer smile again, "As a reward for your attention I'm going to release your hands." Allan began mentally rubbing his wrists, seeing them released from the cuffs. He was quickly disappointed as only the rope was removed. He consoled himself with the realisation that he could at least cover himself up, which he did immediately.
Carter seemed entirely unconcerned as he tidied away the rope. Leaving Allan standing in the same spot he'd been in while he was tied by the rope, he walked over to the door. "You will stand there until I tell you you can move, and you will not speak. Understand?" Allan opened his mouth to speak, only just managing to stop himself in time. Instead of speaking he nodded his head. The knight smiled as he opened the door. "Good." He leaned out of the room. "I'm ready now, boy." He closed the door and walked back to his captive's side. "I need to get out of these dirty clothes before we get started." Allan thanked God that his hands were not fixed above his head as his groin began turning to stone at thoughts of what the knight might mean. He tried to think back to his previous conquests in the taverns and back streets of a number of towns, but each time he pictured a scene it was the blond haired man before him that he was pressed against, their lips locked together. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping the images would disappear, but they did not.
The knight began by unbuckling his belt, which carried his beloved sword. It was clearly beloved from the care he took in laying it, and the belt on top of the bed. Working quickly he removed the outer layers of his clothing, placing them on the chest at the foot of the bed, aside from his boots, which were lined up neatly beside the chest. Clad only in a linen undershirt and underpants, he was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come" he replied, and moments later a group of men from the castle were carrying in a large wooden barrel, cut to turn it into a bath for two. One of the men recognised Allan as he walked out, but said nothing. The look of surprise on his face made it clear what the gossipmongers in the kitchens would be talking about in the days ahead. Worse was to come, however, as once the bath was positioned, a relay of serving girls came carrying jugs of hot water to fill it. Allan had had his eye on a couple of them for a while, and had fancied his luck, but even he had to concede that after they had seen him naked and bound like a slave, his chances of success were slightly less than zero.
Once the bath was full the chief servant ordered the serving girls who had carried the jug, but who now held fine cotton towels, to place them by the foot of the bed. One of them was placed at the side of the tub itself; Allan guessed correctly that no nobleman would want to lower a wet foot onto a cold stone surface. Once all preparations were complete, the chief servant approached the knight. "Sire," he said politely, "will you be requiring the services of a serving girl to wash you and your ... companion?" Allan's ears pricked up at the thought of a wench's hands touching every inch of his flesh. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a wash with a woman, usually with just a bowl of water between them, that hadn't ended up with him having sex with her.
Carter shook his head. "No. My boy there -", both men looked over at the naked figure by the wall, who wished the floor would open up and swallow him, "- will be performing the cleaning duties."
The servant barely managed to hide the look of disdain as he replied, "Very good sir. Will that be all?"
Carter nodded. "Yes. You may go." The door closed, leaving a man in underwear, a naked man, and a steaming bath in the room. "Don't want us disturbed, however much noise we make" said the knight as he lowered a beam into place to lock the door. Allan had no idea what that meant, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He'd have to put his life in his master's hands, and hope for the best.
Carter walked over to the bed and stood by it, his back to the room. In one fluid motion he lifted his undershirt over his head and onto the bed, where he proceeded to fold it up, as if he were about to pack it away. His movements allowed Allan to watch the way his strong back and arms worked together, muscle sliding against muscle, flesh so pale it was clear its owner was of noble birth. He involuntarily held his breath as the underpants dropped to the floor and the powerful torso bent forward to retrieve them from the flagstones. Memories of catching maids unawares while they were bent over came to mind, but somehow the view before him was generating much more of an arousal.
Unaware, possibly, of the effect he was having on the boy, Carter turned and faced him. Allan tried not to look at anything except the knight's face but failed almost immediately. His gaze locked first on the trail of hair down the centre of the man's chest. It reminded him of that on Robin's chest, which he'd seen many times when they were sharing the river for a wash. Thoughts of the archer temporarily filled his mind, sending a pulse of blood to his groin. He swallowed as he tried to make sense of it; he didn't fancy Robin, did he?
His eyes were about to travel lower when their journey was brought to an abrupt halt by a single word, "Boy!" He focused on the face of his master and waited as the knight approached him. "Have you ever been to the Holy lands? You may speak now."
He didn't know where this was heading, but it seemed fairly harmless at the moment. "No sir."
"I thought not. Out there water is a very precious commodity. Owning a well can make the difference between poverty and boundless riches. The Turk would never be so decadent as to use a barrel full of water simply to bathe a man." Robin had spoken of a strange kind of steam bath that he had experienced on his travels, where groups of men sat around naked, before being covered in oil by slaves. Images of the archer glistening in oil, naked as the day he was born, flooded his mind. Why couldn't that outlaw leave him alone, even when he was fantasising? Carter moved closer, and lifted an arm above his head, before sniffing it. "I don't see cleanliness as a waste," he said, "especially when I've worked up such a sweat." His other hand took hold of Allan's head, and pushed it face first into the sweaty armpit. Without pausing, he moved the two of them until the boy's back was pressed up against the wall.
The cold sharp feel of the stones against his back was in stark contrast to the supple warmth of the body pressing on his chest, abdomen and legs. His nostrils filled with the smell of the man; sweat and musk and the faintest hint of lavender. At the same time the back of one of his bound hands was lodged against the knight's flaccid penis. He'd never touched another man there before, never considered it at all. Indeed, he couldn't recall ever feeling this sexually charged when so close to another man. If he moved his hands, to break contact, his own excitement would become obvious, and this became the convenient peg to hand his behaviour upon; he couldn't stop touching the knight for practical reasons. At the back of his mind, however, a little voice was becoming louder by the minute, chanting, "you want him, you want him." He knew it would only be a matter of time before he was openly agreeing. "I need a proper wash down, don't I?" asked Carter. Realising he was expected to answer Allan responded "Yes sir." The sounds were practically inaudible, but the movement required to produce them caused beads of sweat to sweep onto his lips. An involuntary swipe of the tongue and his taste buds joined his sense of smell in discovering how good a man could taste.
The chest pressed against him expanded as the knight moved his head in against the boy's neck, and breathed in. "Seems we both need a bath." said Carter, laying breath after breath of warm air in the nape of his companion's neck "I knew when I first saw you you'd be a dirty, dirty boy." There could be now denying the sexual overtones in that remark, but as if to confirm them, both times he said "dirty", he clenched his buttocks, thrusting his groin upwards. "What would be a waste, to any sane person, would be to let a bath go cold" said Carter shifting back slightly, letting the boy smell him but no longer touch him. He turned and walked over to the tub, allowing Allan to drink in the vision of two muscular buttocks sliding up and down against one another. He leaned over and took the lid off a large pot, which stood on a shelf jutting out of the side of the tub. A handful of whatever it was, was scooped out and sprinkled on the surface of the water. Once the second handful had been similarly deposited, he walked behind the bath, sealed the pot and carefully lowered it to the floor, placing it beside the towel.
Carter took a few strides towards his captive, before stopping. "Come here." Allan had been propped up against the wall, trying to regain his composure, and, more importantly, lose his erection before it gave away how he was feeling. He'd thought he was having some success until the knight's voice sent a shiver through his body, re-energising the lump in his groin. He rushed over to where his master was waiting. "Hands." It was the command he'd been fearing, but there was no way out of it now. He lifted them to chest height, allowing his erection to spring into view. If his master noticed, he chose to say nothing. "If I am to be washed the way I want to be washed, you are going to need your hands unbound. Tied like this you won't be able to get to all the places I need got to." He untied the bindings, letting them drop to the floor.
"To start your career as my servant, you can mix my bath water." Allan wasn't aware this was to be a career so much as a temporary interruption to being Gisborne's second in command; not that he'd dreamt of being that as a child. His musings were suddenly interrupted as he was pulled towards the bath by a strong hand wrapped around his erection. He made every effort to keep up with Carter's long strides back to the bath; he feared for his most prized possessions if he lagged behind. Thankfully the grip was released as quickly as it had been applied. Resting one hand on the rim of the bath, he plunged the other into the water; it felt wonderfully warm. Swirling his hand around, the room filled with the scent of various spices, in particular, lavender; that explained the smell of Carter earlier. The knight seemed happy with the results, though much of that was down to the view of the naked boy bent over the bath.
"That will do," said Carter, "stand back." Allan did as he was told, thankful that his erection had waned somewhat. He stood with his hands at his sides, drops of warm water from his hand dripping down his leg. The knight climbed into the bath, lowering himself onto the seat at one end of it. The water covered him to the waist. Leaning back he let out a comfortable sigh and rested his arms on the rim of the barrel. A beckoning of the hand, and a quick "Here" brought the boy to the side of the bath. Covering his face with his hands, he slipped off the seat submerging his head and chest. Allan noted that there was no fear of attack in the man, and the position he was in allowed for a good view of the body he expected to be touching soon. Lifting himself back onto the seat the knight ran his hands up over his hair and down to his neck, before returning them to the side of the tub. Allan glanced at the straw coloured hair, now darkened by the water, which lay flat against the man's head. "I do enjoy my training," said Carter, "but it does make me grimy, which is where you come in."
Never having bathed anybody before, and not being a frequenter of bath houses with maids, Allan was unsure exactly how to proceed. After a moment's hesitation he was directed by the knight saying, "Start with my shoulders" and leaning forward. Taking up position at the head of the bath, Allan was afforded a clear view of the knight's spine all the way down his back until it vanished between those muscular buttocks. Out of sight of his master he was able to appreciate the view uninterrupted. He licked his lips, dipped his hands into the water, and laid them on the collarbone before him. Still not entirely sure what he was doing, he started gently, making circular motions across the muscles. "Harder." It was a command he'd heard before, but up to now it had always been from the mouth of a wench, in the heat of passion. Although the situation was different, his reaction was the same; he went harder, covering as much flesh as he could with each touch. "Oh God that feels good" groaned Carter, making Allan blush. His face wasn't the only place blood was rushing however, as his erection hardened, pressed up against the outside of the bath; if he wasn't so pre-occupied he'd have worried about getting splinters.
Carter tipped his head back fixing his boy with eyes so deep it seemed possible to drown in them. "Chest and stomach." Allan made to move, but was stopped. "Stay where you are. Lean over. Make sure you cover every inch." Warming to his task by the minute, he leaned forward, dipping into the water before him, only just avoiding touching the knight's cock again. Guessing he knew what his master wanted now, he began to firmly massage the muscular chest under his hands. As if by way of confirmation the nipples under his palms began to harden. Glancing downwards he confirmed they weren't the only things getting firmer.
Before today he would have been horrified at such a reaction, but the steady drip drip of images that had come to mind since he first saw Carter had changed that. Something about this man attracted him, regardless of what he did to him. At one level this scared him, as he wondered just how far he'd let himself be pushed; at another it excited him more than any affair he could remember, and given how miserable his life had been recently he was happy for any relief, however unexpected a form it came in.
He decided to take matters into his own hands. Wetting his hands again he planted them at the top of the taut stomach, and began circling downwards until he felt thick curls of hair under his fingertips. Not sure how much further he should go, he paused. "It seems you are the quick learner I was hoping for" said Carter calmly, "You've earned yourself another reward, boy. You're going to share my bath. Get in." Allan had never been in a bath like this before, and he had no intention of turning down the opportunity, or giving the knight the chance to change his mind. He rushed to the side of the tub, and climbed in as quickly as he could. Settling himself on the seat opposite his master, he groaned as the warm water caressed his naked flesh. "I should have guessed you'd be a groaner," said Carter, making the boy blush as he realised what had been said.
His relaxation didn't last for long. Having closed his eyes for a moment, he was disturbed by something hitting the middle of his chest. His eyelids sprang open again, to reveal the knight's foot tapping him. "Just because you're in my bath, it doesn't mean you've finished with your duties. My feet ache." Allan knew what to do about this. He'd become quite experienced over the years at massaging feet, always young ladies', and as far as he could tell it was something he was good at. Manoeuvring himself so Carter's thigh was resting on his leg, he took hold of the foot before him. It was much larger than any he'd held before, but then his companion was a deal bigger than anyone he'd touched while naked before too. Starting at the ball of the foot he began to gently rub and caress it, the way he had done so many times before. He took pride in this activity, but the size and look of the foot in his hands started putting him off. Closing his eyes again he found it easier to concentrate on his technique, letting the scents from the bath water fill his lungs.
Foot massage was something of a set piece for him, so it was without any forethought that he slipped his lips around the knight's big toe, and sucked it into his mouth. His tongue found the tiny peak on the underside of the toe and began swiping at it in time with the motions of his fingers. Sure as night followed day, teeth began scraping backwards and forwards across the toe. The sound of hitched breaths and lapping water filled the room overwhelming the quiet sucking that had filled it moments before.
Opening his eyes, but making sure to keep his tongue and teeth at their labours, Allan glanced over at his master. Carter had shifted forward on his seat and moved his free leg out to one side. One hand rested on his thigh, while the other, gripping firmly, slid up and down the shaft of his now fully hard cock. With each downward stroke the purple head was revealed, only to vanish again as the fist pushed the foreskin back into place. Perhaps through some sixth sense he realised he was being watched, as after a moment he lifted his head and made eye contact again. Allan grinned back, happy to see that he had not lost any of his skill with feet, just because its recipient had switched genders.
Carter stopped pleasuring himself, and, holding his cock at its base, spoke. " I've got something else to put in that mouth of yours." Allan let the toe slide out of his grip as he considered the offer. This really would be crossing a line. Sharing another man's bath was generally seen as acceptable, and at a push he could come up with a plausible excuse for sucking on a man's toe, but putting a cock in your mouth? That would be the clearest of signals that you wanted to be treated as a maid in the bedchamber, and he'd never wanted that before. But then this had already been a day of firsts for him, and glancing over at the secured door he realised this was his chance to try something entirely new. The knight would almost certainly say nothing about these events, as he would just incriminate himself as well, and what safer place could there be to experiment. The priests said it would send you to hell, but hadn't they already said all outlaws were damned? If that was his fate, he might as well do as much living as he could in this world. "Not bein' funny, sir, but I ain't ever done this before, so ..."
Carter stared back at him. "So I shouldn't expect it to be any good? I'm not in the habit of settling for second best."
"And I ain't askin' you to. I just might need you to go a bit slower than usual ... treat me like a virgin, 'cos that's what I am."
The knight chuckled to himself before replying, "I doubt you were ever a virgin. Be assured you won't be by the time I've finished with you. Enough talk. Get on your knees and show me what you can do."
Allan slipped gently off the seat and on to his knees, as his master's legs parted. In the distance he could hear the drip drip of water from the feet now hanging over the sides of the bath. He'd been pleasured this way himself of course, but only a couple of times, one of which had ended with him nursing tooth marks following a particularly ill judged comment. Being at the other end of the process was like being a stranger in a foreign land; everything looked familiar, but somehow quite different. He decided his best choice was to do to Carter what he had enjoyed having done to himself. Taking the cock at the base in one hand, he pulled down until the head was fully revealed, then placed his tongue flat against it before sweeping upwards until the shaft and head were laved in spit. The groan from above confirmed that he was doing something right.
After another trail of saliva had been laid on the hard flesh, and remembering his own experiences, Allan covered his teeth with his lips and slid the head into his mouth. He'd been concerned that the taste would make him wretch, but in reality the strongest taste was of the herbs and spices in the water. Swirling his tongue around in his mouth, laying glancing blows on the shaft and head, he felt a pair of hands grip either side of his head. He knew what was expected of him now, and wanted to do it, but just needed to overcome his fears. He swallowed, inadvertently rubbing the cock against the roof of his mouth, causing a long low groan to escape from the knight's mouth. Pleased with the results, he decided to go for it. Lowering his mouth inch by inch down the shaft, he stopped when the head neared the back of his throat. "Swallow. Then you'll fit it all in."
Doing exactly as he'd been told, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down again as his nose plunged into a forest of wet, curly hair. Carter had lifted his hips slightly, letting his balls rise from the water. Allan took hold of them, cupping them before running his finger from the back of the scrotum to the front, meeting his lower lip. Needing to breathe, he pulled back slightly, but was stopped by the hands on his head. The knight had obviously seen this before. "You have a nose to breathe through," he said, "your mouth is to service my cock. Is that clear?"
Allan tipped his head back a little, just managing to make eye contact with his master. He tried to say "yes", which unsurprisingly came out as an incoherent rumble. "I do like to see a pair of bright eyes looking up at me with my hard cock vanishing into the mouth below them" he murmured, his eyes locked on the boy's face, before he started thrusting his length into the mouth held in place by his hands. Each time he hit the back of the boy's throat he let out a low groan. Allan managed to find a way, though later he would have no idea how, to breathe whilst his mouth was stretched in ways he had never imagined possible. And yet, for all that this might seem like abuse to an outsider, he found it a source of pride that he could pleasure this man so easily. After a few minutes of thrusting and pausing, groaning and sucking, Carter pulled the boy off his cock, filling the room with a loud slap as it smacked against his stomach. "For a virgin, you have a natural skill," he said, "but now I'm wondering if it's just your mouth that is that good. Your actions have shown me that you deserve another reward."
Pulling his legs back into the water, and sitting himself more upright on his seat, he leant over the edge of the bath and wiped a hand on the towel to dry it, before lifting the lid of the pot which held the herbs and spices that were scenting the water and room. From within it he pulled out a tall thin clay pot stopped fast with what looked like cork. He opening it with a satisfying pop and poured something into the palm of his hand. When Allan tried to lift his head up to see what it was, he was stopped in his tracks. "Stay where you are boy. There's nothing to interest your head here, quite the reverse in fact. Turn around, and grip the edge of the bath, and lift that virgin arse of yours out of the water. It's time I did a little bit of exploring."
It was clear to both men exactly what was going to be explored; the only questions in Allan's mind were how much it was going to hurt and whether that would have any influence on the way it was done. He tensed himself in expectation, and gritted his teeth. "This will be a lot more painful if you don't relax." Contradicting everything his body was telling him, he let the tension out of his body. Almost immediately he felt an oily finger slide between his buttocks. It felt odd, since nobody had ever touched him there before, but not unpleasant. The second stroke touched his entrance, sending a shiver throughout his body, and speeding up his heart rate and breathing. This was noticed by Carter, who chuckled before asking, "You like that, don't you? Do you want some more?"
Catching his breath, he murmured "Please, sir." This was evidently the correct answer, as moments later the finger retraced its path, only this time pausing a little longer, pressing a little harder against the opening, sending a stronger buzz through his body. Another groan filled the room. Just as he had got used to the rhythmic rubbing, used to the regular jolt of pleasure through his body, everything stepped up a gear. Having vanished, to be coated in more oil, the finger reappeared at the base of his spine. This time though it stopped at the puckered entrance and, having rubbed it liberally, slid inside, widening the entrance whilst touching where no finger had ever touched before. Allan's eyes bulged as a stinging pain washed over him. Biting his lip he tried not to take any notice of it, concentrating on the pleasure he'd felt only moments earlier.
As Carter continued to slide his finger in and out, he noticed the boy's breathing beginning to return to normal. "See," he said, "if you just relax, it soon stops hurting. You know my cock is a lot thicker than my finger, so I'm going to have to stretch you open a lot more before you're ready for the hardest fucking you've ever had." Allan mused to himself that this was bound to be the hardest, as it would be the first time he'd ever had another person inside him. Of course he'd made a fair number of women gasp and pant, and he wondered if any of them had gone through this sort of pain; there had been a few times when he'd been asked to stop, or slow down, but by the end of it all parties had been fully satisfied, as far as he could tell, so he decided the right thing to do was to suffer the pain until it stopped hurting. Even as he thought about it now he realised his body was adapting to the intrusion, letting the strangely thrilling sensations blot out the initial stabs of pain.
Carter's addition of a second finger followed a similar pattern. At first there was discomfort, then pain, then a strange sort of physical acceptance of the situation, shortly followed by pleasure, forcing groans and pants out of the boy. For his part Allan found the initial pain disappearing much quicker than it had before. When the fingers were pulled back and just left stationary, he was unable to stop himself from pushing back onto them. "One more, and you'll be ready" said the knight, removing his fingers entirely and dipping them in the oil in his palm. Leaning forward now he slowly worked the three fingers into the tight warmth of the boy. At the same time his free hand applied the remaining oil liberally to his cock, covering every inch of it from base to head. "Need to be nice and slippery," he said between panting breaths, before I slide inside you, you dirty boy."
After half a dozen or so thrusts, the puckered entrance was open enough, and the fingers were removed. Allan heard them being splashed about in the water, then the bath creaking as, he guessed, his companion positioned himself for the onslaught to come. A wave of fear washed over him again; fingers were one thing, but he'd seen the size of the thing about to slide inside him, and he was worried no amount of positive thinking would get him past the pain it would produce. He waited for the grip of hand on his hips or shoulders, but instead heard hands gripping the sides of the bath, and felt the lightest of touches in the middle of his back, as lips planted a series of kisses up to the base of his neck. Warm breath fell on his ear, as Carter whispered, "I'll take it slowly at first, but once you're used to the heft of me, I'll take you so hard and so deep, you'll wonder if you'll ever walk again. Now relax so I can do what I was put here to do." It wasn't the greatest pep talk he'd ever had, but he appreciated the sentiment.
The head stroked up and down his crack a couple of times before it pushed in. Preparation by fingers and oil helped, but the flesh pushing into him was harder and thicker than mere digits, even three of them, and he yelped as he expanded to accommodate it. Carter waited for a moment, before starting a gentle rocking motion, in and out, in and out. Allan gritted his teeth again, hissing through the pain, not that the knight seemed to notice, or act on it. At the conclusion of each set of twenty or so thrusts, the nobleman would press in a little deeper, slowly but surely inching into the boy, who was now panting more than hissing, finding himself able to cope with the hard muscle deep inside him. Once he was into the hilt, Carter straightened his back and took hold of the boy's hips. "So tight" he murmured.
"So big" replied Allan, panting again as the thrusting resumed.
Tightening his grip, Carter began a series of short hard powerful thrusts, shaking the whole tub and making the water splash around. Allan could do nothing but hold on and groan, an odd vibrato noise that filled the room. There was a pause, with just enough time to catch his breath before he realised what was happening next. Suddenly he felt quite empty; the knight had pulled out of him completely. "Tell me what you want, boy."
It didn't need any long-winded consideration to answer that question. "Please sir. Fuck me sir." The pleading in the voice was plain to hear.
"It would be," said the nobleman, sliding his cock head over the entrance as he spoke, "a pleasure." He rammed in up to the hilt, sending a torrent of pain, followed by an overwhelming wave of pleasure through the boy.
This cycle of rapid thrusts followed by long deep strokes continued to build as the bath water grew cooler. Carter lent forward again, and whispered, "I'm going to fill you with my seed, boy, but I need to make some room first." Allan was past knowing or caring what that meant. All he could focus on now was the feeling of this man inside him, working his body like a blacksmith worked metal; heating him up, then bending, stretching, and twisting him into something beautiful, making him more than he was before. He reacted to hands pushing him, moving forward so his chest was half over the lip of the barrel. Still inside him, Carter moved, placing a foot on the seat beside him. A hand took hold of him at the left shoulder, pulling him up slightly, whilst the knight's other hand grasped his hard cock tightly. "I'm not going to stop until we're both satisfied."
The change in position meant that this time when he thrust in deep, Carter hit something inside Allan's body that had never been hit before. "Jesus!" he moaned, as his mind was flooded with pleasure, blocking out everything else around him. His eyes rolled back into his head for a moment, making him think the room had been filed with stars. "Good?" asked the knight, already sure of the answer.
"Fantastic." His voice was slightly raspy now, his mouth dry from all the groaning and panting. He wanted a drink, but that would mean separating, and he couldn't conceive of anything more stupid than that at this moment. Another sequence of short hard thrusts came close to the spot inside him but didn't quite get there; it was as if he was being teased. He barely noticed the hand working his own shaft in time to the movements behind him.
"Tell me when you're close." He wondered why this needed to be known. Was he going to be denied at the last moment? With the merest fraction of his brain still able to reason, he decided it best to trust that Carter knew what he was doing; the evidence so far was overwhelming.
Another deep thrust made contact inside him, sending a shock wave throughout his body. He knew he couldn't resist much longer, but why would he want to anyway? The fist around his manhood was beginning to work its magic as well, though he knew it would only be the straw that broke the camel's back. The next sequence of short thrusts confirmed it. "I'm close" he groaned, wondering what the information would lead to. Taking the words as a sanction that permitted him to do whatever was required to finish the job, Carter lunged in up to the hilt, followed by a sequence of hard thrusts without drawing back at all. Hit over and over again in short order, Allan's body gave up any semblance of control. With a loud moan, arching his back he came, jerk after jerk producing string after string of seed. The tensing of the muscles around his cock pushed Carter over the edge. Giving a loud roar he pushed as deep as he could into the boy's warm embrace, emptying himself in thrust after thrust. Once completely spent he looked down at Allan, and realised he had fainted. Wiping the sweat trickling down his brow he lent forward and whispered "Not such a virgin now my beautiful boy."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When he came to Allan was disorientated for a moment. He was sitting in the bath, where Carter had been, and he seemed to have been washed. Hearing footsteps he turned to see the knight, naked, walking towards him. "I thought you needed a wash," he said, "after working up such a sweat."
"Thank you" croaked the boy, suddenly remembering how his throat had got so sore.
"There's a soothing mead for you over there," he pointed to the window which did indeed have a goblet standing before it, "but you should get out of that water before you get a chill."
As he stood, a towel was wrapped around him, and once out of the bath he was rubbed down. "If this is another reward," he chuckled, "you needn't've bothered. I got all the rewards I needed in the bath."
"You've earned all the rewards I could give you," said the knight, "your clothes are over on the bed, and I release you from your bondage to me," a raised eyebrow made him chuckle, "you may go, when you are ready."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The knock on his door was unexpected, but when Carter opened it he was more than satisfied. Standing before him, looking slightly dishevelled, was Allan, clad once again in a tight fitting, but different, leather outfit. "And what can I do for you?" asked the knight, his eyes running up and down the body he knew so well.
Allan swallowed, his train of thought interrupted by those piercing blue eyes. He'd practised what he was going to say on the way here until it was word perfect in his mind, but now all those words had scattered, like a flock of birds disturbed by a canon shot. "I um ... that is ... I just wondered if you were in need of some company? These nights can get awful cold, just a single man in a big empty bed."
Carter lent towards him. "Suppose I wanted more than just company?" he asked, "If I wanted a boy I could pleasure all through the small hours, whenever the mood took me? Is that something you'd be interested in?"
"On two conditions. One, that you still have some of that oil left -", a nod confirmed it, "- and two, that you call me Allan, 'cos I want to be your boy, but I ain't bein' your servant again."
There was a moment's pause. "You'd best come in then, Allan, I'm already feeling a slight chill." The door closed behind the two men, now locked in a tongue-tangled kiss.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When the sun's early rays filtered through the window, Allan got up and dressed himself. His progress was interrupted by numerous yawns and stretches. He hadn't slept much. The mood had taken Carter many times during the night, and each time he had taken his boy, wringing what seemed to be the very last drop of pleasure from him, until the next time came and more was somehow found. Walking slowly back to his own room, Allan discovered aches in places he didn't know he had, not that he would trade relief now for the delights of last night. Reaching his bed he fell on to it, hoping to catch a little sleep before the new day began.
Later today he would be caught napping by Gisborne, which would just add to his woes, but how could he explain his tiredness? Obviously, "I was up all night playin' 'ide the sword with Carter" wouldn't serve as a suitable answer.
Title: Keeping the Assassin Happy
Words: 10,000
Genre: Slash
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer:The Robin Hood characters written about here belong to Tiger Aspect and the British Broadcasting Corporation. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money being made. I don't own them - if I did I'd be too busy drooling to write! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Allan must keep the sheriff's guest happy.
Warnings: Set immediately before the start of 2x8 Get Carter!
Characters/Pairings: Allan/Carter
Allan was slightly out of breath as he came to a halt outside the main hall of Nottingham castle. It never did to make old misery knickers wait, but he chose to stand for a moment, and straighten his leather tunic, before walking into the hall. Vasey stood at the far end of the room, leaning over a table, his back to the door. It occurred to Allan that for a man with so many enemies, the sheriff was surprisingly nonchalant about turning his back to them; one day he would most likely find himself turned into an ennobled knife rack, but sadly not today.
“You called for me … my lord.” That last phrase always stuck in his throat somewhat, but it was a necessity of his current position.
“Gisborne let you out of his chambers then” murmured Vasey, turning to face the room. Allan wasn’t sure he liked the implication that he was being kept like a pet, or sexual plaything, in his master’s quarters, but it wasn’t the first time he’d been taunted like this, and he no longer reacted to it, which seemed to annoy the sheriff. That definitely made it worth doing.
“‘E wasn’t around when I was summoned” he said calmly.
“Oh good,” said Vasey, in a voice which, whilst perfectly functional, was dripping with perverted overtones, “that’ll make things a lot easier.” Allan shifted slightly, becoming more concerned for his own survival with each passing moment. “I have a very special guest staying for a few days, on a mission that will, if successful, make me happier than you could imagine. He has requested somebody to train with. Given his abilities none of the guards would be a match for him, so you -”, Allan felt a sudden bloom of pride in his chest, “- are a better choice. I can ill afford to lose another guard, but you’re quite dispensable.” The younger man’s pride wilted as quickly as it had grown. “I suppose Gisborne would be a bit ticked off if you died, so try not to. He’s distracted enough with Marian gone at the moment. One more thing and he’ll be no use to me whatsoever.”
Now it was clear the regard he was held in by his betters, Allan decided there was no point putting off the inevitable. “So where is ‘e? An’ ‘ho is ‘e?”
“His name is Carter, one of the Knights Templar, and he will be out on the training ground practising his sword skills, if he’s as dedicated as he claims to be. Now go and find him before he gets angry. An angry assassin is never a good thing.” Allan walked to the door, but stopped for a moment when the sheriff’s dulcet tones rang out across the hall. “Oh, and keep him away from Gisborne. Our sir Guy has the stench of failure about him. I don’t want Carter being infected by it. I trust I make myself clear.”
“Crystal.”
“Good.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The walk to the training ground was uneventful enough, and there was no problem identifying the knight in question, since he was the only person in sight. Tall, slim, and with a head of short blond hair, his back was to Allan as the ex-outlaw approached. “Carter? I’m Allan, Allan a Dale. The sheriff told me you wanted a training partner?”
“You’re late.” A powerful voice almost entirely devoid of emotion; quite unnervingly cold and flat.
“I came as soon as I was told.”
“There is a sword on the ground to your left. Now stop talking and defend yourself.”
Allan sprang into action, his experiences with the gang in the forest brought to the front of his mind. He’d always been good at defending himself - he was still here wasn’t he? - so this shouldn’t be too difficult. He darted over to the sword and picked it up, making sure the dagger he kept hidden about his person was in easy reach as well. “I’m guessing from your movements that you’re ready,” said Carter, “so let battle commence.” Allan readied himself, but could not have prepared for the shock he got when his opponent turned to face him. The most piercing pair of blue eyes he’d ever seen turned to him, and seemed to bore into the back of his head. There was a quality about the man’s face, which was truly masculine, and yet somehow feminine at the same time. When he licked his lips, whilst appraising the situation, Allan felt a shiver run down his spine; the sort of shiver he usually got when a buxom lass came into view.
Shaking his head, Allan tried to work out what was happening to him. He was a ladies man, through and through, never happier than when he was surrounded by women, anything from the roughest serving girl to, at the other extreme, nuns. And yet for some unknown reason his body was betraying him now. His mouth had gone dry, and a lump was starting to form in his breeches. He pulled himself together. All this was simply because he hadn’t bedded a wench in some time; his body was telling him that once he had finished here, he needed to go to a nearby tavern, find a willing woman, pound her senseless for as long as it took, have a few ales and fall into his bed, satisfied in all the ways a red blooded male could want. He focused on the knight before him, trying not to get distracted again by those eyes.
The first few moves and parries went pretty much as Allan had expected. The training he’d had with Robin and Much had taught him effective strategies to out manoeuvre the attacks coming his way. “It seems the monkey has learnt some of its master’s skills” said Carter, a hint of excitement now in his voice.
Allan momentarily let his anger rise. Guy had had no part in teaching him these skills; he resented the implication that he couldn’t learn on his own. And being compared to a monkey. “Not bein’ funny, but this means war!” he shouted, before readying himself again.
“So be it” came the reply, the voice becalmed again. The fifth time the knight moved in to strike, the ex-outlaw managed to move so he was pressed up against his opponent. Unable to strike one another, the two men stayed locked together for a fraction of a second before parting. It was just long enough for the scent of the man to make its way to Allan’s nose.
This was really odd. There was nothing remotely feminine about the musky scent coming off Carter, and yet it seemed to have found its way straight to Allan’s groin. He now had an aching hardness in his breeches; a hardness that was demanding immediate attention regardless of the consequences. Stepping back a pace or two Carter looked directly at him again. An image of those lips pressing against his own filled Allan’s head for a moment. He tried not to think about it. He must be going mad he decided. He did not want this man to kiss him, absolutely not, under no circumstances. He started repeating the phrase “don’t fancy him” under his breath, hoping against hope that repetition would turn worthless words into fact.
Any such hopes vanished when those lips curled into a seductive knowing grin. He’d always thought the saying "going weak at the knees" was just a meaningless phrase. Now, however, it was coming true. He stumbled forward, momentarily leaving himself open to attack. The unwitting invitation was immediately exploited by Carter, who, within the blink of an eye, had Allan face down in the dust dagger out of reach, sword abandoned on the ground nearby, hands pinned behind his back. Struggling was pointless, and anyway, he reasoned, this was just training; once his vanquisher had completed his little routine that would be that, and he could spend the rest of the day traipsing round the castle pointing out things of interest, running simple errands, or, if he was lucky enough, relieving his obvious sexual tension. Carter positioned himself so he was kneeling upright on the small of his captive’s back.
“Normally I would kill my opponent, but you put up a good fight, so I will temper my usual behaviour. First, do you submit?”
Why bother arguing? “Yes, I submit.”
“Then instead of taking your life outright, I will take it for the day.” Visions of being severely injured swan across Allan’s mind, and the unexpected binding of his hands behind his back panicked him, causing him to struggle for escape. A sharp slap to the back of his head stilled him. “You belong to me for now, and you will behave yourself, or you will be punished. Now lie still while I finish tying your hands.” All sense of fight left his body, as he waited for whatever was coming next. The struggling on the ground had confirmed something else: his erection was still present, and if anything, the treatment being dished out to him now was making it harder. He’d never thought himself interested in being dominated, but here he was, his mind worried, but his body loving every second of it. Carter finished knotting the cord around his wrists, and leant in, his breath blowing warm air onto Allan’s ear. “My two passions,” he said quietly, “relate to death, ‘la grande mort’ and ‘la petite mort’. By avoiding the former, you have put yourself forward for the latter.” He chuckled to himself, leaving his companion bewildered; the ex-outlaw knew very little of French origin, unless you counted kissing in which he was very well versed.
The weight on his back vanishing signalled to Allan that his new master had stood up. “Stand.” He struggled to get up, deprived of his hands for a few moments, before a hand hooked itself around his collar, and pulled him upright. Nothing was making any sense to him at this moment, though he would swear the rough skinned fingers stroked across the back of his neck before being withdrawn. He felt the hairs stand up in response to the touch. It had been a long time since he’d been touched so delicately.
Spun around, he found himself inches away from that beautiful face again, its featured lit up now by a beaming smile, the joy of the mouth somehow reflected in the eyes. “We need to get you cleaned up, get all that dirt off you.” It was an odd choice of phrase. The last time anyone had said that to him, it had been his mother, and he had been no more than six years old. Then she had lifted up the corner of her apron, spat on it, and rubbed his face; he wondered if that was what was going to happen this time.
Expectations rose as Carter said, “What we need is a handkerchief,” before patting his body from chest to breeches. “Nothing here,” he continued, walking behind Allan, “let’s see if you’ve got anything worthwhile.” There was a definite innuendo in that statement, but it was pushed aside by the sudden onslaught of hands stroking up and down the boy’s torso and thighs. He wasn’t sure if he liked being touched like this. Actually, he was sure, or at least his body was, regardless of what his head told him he should be feeling. His erection, which had softened in the meantime was returning, and despite his best efforts to stop it, involving imagining the sheriff naked, it was staying put. Allan wasn’t in the habit of carrying handkerchiefs with him - if he wanted to wipe his nose he had two perfectly good sleeves - so the search was fruitless. Returning to a point in front of him, Carter stood considering his options for a moment, apparently gazing into the middle distance. Allan found himself unable to stop his eyes from flicking up and down the body before him. He didn’t know consciously what it was he was looking for, but something inside him appreciated what it saw. “Plan B then,” said the knight, “Follow me.” They set off towards the castle.
Allan had long ago realised that things very seldom went well for somebody of his social class, so he wasn’t especially surprised when they came to a halt beside a horse trough. He glanced down at the murky water, and knew instantly what was going to happen. Knowing, and experiencing were two quite different things, however, as the first of three buckets of freezing cold water hit him full force on the chest and face. He’d had the good sense to keep his mouth shut as soon as he saw the bucket dipping into the trough, which stopped the water going down his throat. Carter dropped the bucket beside the trough, and walked back to the spluttering boy’s side. “You’d be well advised to learn that I take cleanliness very seriously.”
It came as a welcome relief to Allan’s run of bad luck that when he and Carter made it to the castle almost all of the townsfolk were being rounded up in the main courtyard to be berated for not providing enough income to the sheriff. They were able to slip into the castle practically unnoticed. As they reached the knight’s quarters it occurred to Allan that he might now be in greater danger than before. When they were outside there was always the chance that a passerby would see them, which might have restricted his captor’s actions; now they would be out of sight, and anything could happen. He swallowed hard as the door to the chambers swung shut behind him. There was a moment of silence during which he heard his own heart beating loudly in his ears, before Carter spoke again. "I use a system of rewards to train my servants, and as I only have you for one day I am going to have to accelerate the normal pace I use. My system is based on behaviour. If you behave yourself you are rewarded, and if not, you are punished. I haven’t seen any evidence of outstandingly good behaviour so far, certainly not good enough to justify the high quality clothes you’re wearing, so I’m going to find you something more appropriate, and while I’m doing that you’ll take off that tunic …,” he pressed a finger against it, “… and fine linen shirt and put them on the chair over there. Oh, and if you’re considering running away, let me be clear that if you want to remain a boy, and not become a eunuch, you'll do exactly as you're told. I'm sure neither Vasey nor your master will give a damn what state I return you to them in. Do I make myself clear?"
"Absolutely" replied Allan, a wave of sickness washing over him as he considered the truth in what the knight had just said.
Running really wasn’t an option. Where, for example, would he run to? Nowhere within the law was safe from the sheriff and Gisborne. Becoming an outlaw again would make him a target for Robin. He really had backed himself into a corner. All he could do now was follow the commands of his new, albeit temporary, master to the letter, and hope he made it to the end of the day. He waited while Carter released the ropes binding his hands, making sure the knight was out of the room before he rubbed his wrists and stretched his arms. The tunic and shirt were removed sullenly; he’d never had such fine clothing, and the thought of losing it concerned him greatly. His concern grew when Carter strode back into the room with what looked like a pair of leather cuffs in his hand. Presumably these were to restrain him, though the thought of losing his most cherished of body parts was more than enough threat to make him stay.
As he approached, Carter barked an order "Hands out in front of you." Allan obeyed instantly; there could be no bargaining with this man, and once he was cuffed no way of retaliating. The cuffs were fixed in place with a buckle, leaving his hands together in front of him. He hadn't ever considered what this room was previously used for until his master picked up the rope that had bound his hands and threaded through a metal ring fixed into the ceiling above him. "Of course," said the knight, as he tied the rope to the cuffs, "any system with rewards for good behaviour needs a similar set of punishments for bad behaviour." He pulled on the rope forcing his servant's hands up into the air. "By way of demonstration" he said, pausing for a moment before swiftly bringing his hand into contact with the boy's breeches.
As a child Allan had suffered regular beatings at the hand of his father. It had never seemed to matter if he had or hadn't done wrong. He wasn't deluded enough to believe he'd been an angel, but he was certain a large proportion of his beatings were baseless. He had made Tom swear an oath, on their dear departed mother, after a particularly vicious attack that neither of them would give their father the satisfaction of a reaction. As Carter landed his blow all the techniques he had used as a child came back to him in an instant. Staying still and silent, his only movement a slight tightening of the jaw, Allan waited for the next blow.
Carter seemed puzzled by the reaction. He walked round his captive a couple of times rubbing his chin and looking down at the floor, before coming to rest behind the boy again. Hot breath landed on Allan's neck, causing an odd warm sensation throughout his body; this must be another reminder that he needed a wench, he decided. "It seems I'm going to have to up my game wherever you're concerned," said the knight, wrapping his arms around the boy, "but that's not a problem, not at all."
Discomfort turned to surprise as Allan saw hands take hold of the laces at the top of his breeches, and untie them. No man's hands had ever ventured there. Even more concerning was that he didn't find it disagreeable. Within moments the breeches were falling to the floor, collecting around his ankles. He felt his captor's surcoat pressing against his bare buttocks for a moment before withdrawing. "That's better," said Carter, "Now let's see what difference that makes."
Allan heard the rush of air just before the blow landed on his newly exposed flesh. Without meaning to, he hitched his breath, a sign the knight picked up on immediately. "Better," he said, before stepping back to admire his work, "and such a nice colour." He stroked the now reddened flesh softly, sending a shiver through the boy's body.
"Now that you understand my system," said Carter, "we can start your training properly. Just one more minor adjustment, and I can put you to work. Lift your legs up." Allan hung from the ceiling, hoping Carter would do whatever it was he intended doing, before the straps at his wrists cut through his skin. It was with a sense of relief that he heard his boots clatter onto the floor, quickly followed by his breeches. He was less pleased to see them kicked out of the way even though it did lead, moments later to the command "Put your legs down." Now stark naked, but still restrained, he should have been concerned, but his relief at getting the feeling back in his wrists overrode any fear.
Carter stood back for a moment, surveying his captive. "Good," he said after a few moments, "the sheriff has served me well, whether he knows it or not." His hand landed on Allan's shoulder, "I hope you're a quick learner, because I intend to work you very, very hard." On the last three words he rocked the boy backwards and forwards, sending fear and excitement through him in equal measure.
"Let's see if you've been paying attention to what I say" said Carter, walking in front of the boy. "What did I say I take very seriously?"
Allan wracked his brains for a moment searching for an answer he was sure he new. He was relieved when it came to mind. "Cleanliness ... sir." He congratulated himself on remembering to add the honorific.
"Well done" replied the knight, flashing the killer smile again, "As a reward for your attention I'm going to release your hands." Allan began mentally rubbing his wrists, seeing them released from the cuffs. He was quickly disappointed as only the rope was removed. He consoled himself with the realisation that he could at least cover himself up, which he did immediately.
Carter seemed entirely unconcerned as he tidied away the rope. Leaving Allan standing in the same spot he'd been in while he was tied by the rope, he walked over to the door. "You will stand there until I tell you you can move, and you will not speak. Understand?" Allan opened his mouth to speak, only just managing to stop himself in time. Instead of speaking he nodded his head. The knight smiled as he opened the door. "Good." He leaned out of the room. "I'm ready now, boy." He closed the door and walked back to his captive's side. "I need to get out of these dirty clothes before we get started." Allan thanked God that his hands were not fixed above his head as his groin began turning to stone at thoughts of what the knight might mean. He tried to think back to his previous conquests in the taverns and back streets of a number of towns, but each time he pictured a scene it was the blond haired man before him that he was pressed against, their lips locked together. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping the images would disappear, but they did not.
The knight began by unbuckling his belt, which carried his beloved sword. It was clearly beloved from the care he took in laying it, and the belt on top of the bed. Working quickly he removed the outer layers of his clothing, placing them on the chest at the foot of the bed, aside from his boots, which were lined up neatly beside the chest. Clad only in a linen undershirt and underpants, he was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come" he replied, and moments later a group of men from the castle were carrying in a large wooden barrel, cut to turn it into a bath for two. One of the men recognised Allan as he walked out, but said nothing. The look of surprise on his face made it clear what the gossipmongers in the kitchens would be talking about in the days ahead. Worse was to come, however, as once the bath was positioned, a relay of serving girls came carrying jugs of hot water to fill it. Allan had had his eye on a couple of them for a while, and had fancied his luck, but even he had to concede that after they had seen him naked and bound like a slave, his chances of success were slightly less than zero.
Once the bath was full the chief servant ordered the serving girls who had carried the jug, but who now held fine cotton towels, to place them by the foot of the bed. One of them was placed at the side of the tub itself; Allan guessed correctly that no nobleman would want to lower a wet foot onto a cold stone surface. Once all preparations were complete, the chief servant approached the knight. "Sire," he said politely, "will you be requiring the services of a serving girl to wash you and your ... companion?" Allan's ears pricked up at the thought of a wench's hands touching every inch of his flesh. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a wash with a woman, usually with just a bowl of water between them, that hadn't ended up with him having sex with her.
Carter shook his head. "No. My boy there -", both men looked over at the naked figure by the wall, who wished the floor would open up and swallow him, "- will be performing the cleaning duties."
The servant barely managed to hide the look of disdain as he replied, "Very good sir. Will that be all?"
Carter nodded. "Yes. You may go." The door closed, leaving a man in underwear, a naked man, and a steaming bath in the room. "Don't want us disturbed, however much noise we make" said the knight as he lowered a beam into place to lock the door. Allan had no idea what that meant, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He'd have to put his life in his master's hands, and hope for the best.
Carter walked over to the bed and stood by it, his back to the room. In one fluid motion he lifted his undershirt over his head and onto the bed, where he proceeded to fold it up, as if he were about to pack it away. His movements allowed Allan to watch the way his strong back and arms worked together, muscle sliding against muscle, flesh so pale it was clear its owner was of noble birth. He involuntarily held his breath as the underpants dropped to the floor and the powerful torso bent forward to retrieve them from the flagstones. Memories of catching maids unawares while they were bent over came to mind, but somehow the view before him was generating much more of an arousal.
Unaware, possibly, of the effect he was having on the boy, Carter turned and faced him. Allan tried not to look at anything except the knight's face but failed almost immediately. His gaze locked first on the trail of hair down the centre of the man's chest. It reminded him of that on Robin's chest, which he'd seen many times when they were sharing the river for a wash. Thoughts of the archer temporarily filled his mind, sending a pulse of blood to his groin. He swallowed as he tried to make sense of it; he didn't fancy Robin, did he?
His eyes were about to travel lower when their journey was brought to an abrupt halt by a single word, "Boy!" He focused on the face of his master and waited as the knight approached him. "Have you ever been to the Holy lands? You may speak now."
He didn't know where this was heading, but it seemed fairly harmless at the moment. "No sir."
"I thought not. Out there water is a very precious commodity. Owning a well can make the difference between poverty and boundless riches. The Turk would never be so decadent as to use a barrel full of water simply to bathe a man." Robin had spoken of a strange kind of steam bath that he had experienced on his travels, where groups of men sat around naked, before being covered in oil by slaves. Images of the archer glistening in oil, naked as the day he was born, flooded his mind. Why couldn't that outlaw leave him alone, even when he was fantasising? Carter moved closer, and lifted an arm above his head, before sniffing it. "I don't see cleanliness as a waste," he said, "especially when I've worked up such a sweat." His other hand took hold of Allan's head, and pushed it face first into the sweaty armpit. Without pausing, he moved the two of them until the boy's back was pressed up against the wall.
The cold sharp feel of the stones against his back was in stark contrast to the supple warmth of the body pressing on his chest, abdomen and legs. His nostrils filled with the smell of the man; sweat and musk and the faintest hint of lavender. At the same time the back of one of his bound hands was lodged against the knight's flaccid penis. He'd never touched another man there before, never considered it at all. Indeed, he couldn't recall ever feeling this sexually charged when so close to another man. If he moved his hands, to break contact, his own excitement would become obvious, and this became the convenient peg to hand his behaviour upon; he couldn't stop touching the knight for practical reasons. At the back of his mind, however, a little voice was becoming louder by the minute, chanting, "you want him, you want him." He knew it would only be a matter of time before he was openly agreeing. "I need a proper wash down, don't I?" asked Carter. Realising he was expected to answer Allan responded "Yes sir." The sounds were practically inaudible, but the movement required to produce them caused beads of sweat to sweep onto his lips. An involuntary swipe of the tongue and his taste buds joined his sense of smell in discovering how good a man could taste.
The chest pressed against him expanded as the knight moved his head in against the boy's neck, and breathed in. "Seems we both need a bath." said Carter, laying breath after breath of warm air in the nape of his companion's neck "I knew when I first saw you you'd be a dirty, dirty boy." There could be now denying the sexual overtones in that remark, but as if to confirm them, both times he said "dirty", he clenched his buttocks, thrusting his groin upwards. "What would be a waste, to any sane person, would be to let a bath go cold" said Carter shifting back slightly, letting the boy smell him but no longer touch him. He turned and walked over to the tub, allowing Allan to drink in the vision of two muscular buttocks sliding up and down against one another. He leaned over and took the lid off a large pot, which stood on a shelf jutting out of the side of the tub. A handful of whatever it was, was scooped out and sprinkled on the surface of the water. Once the second handful had been similarly deposited, he walked behind the bath, sealed the pot and carefully lowered it to the floor, placing it beside the towel.
Carter took a few strides towards his captive, before stopping. "Come here." Allan had been propped up against the wall, trying to regain his composure, and, more importantly, lose his erection before it gave away how he was feeling. He'd thought he was having some success until the knight's voice sent a shiver through his body, re-energising the lump in his groin. He rushed over to where his master was waiting. "Hands." It was the command he'd been fearing, but there was no way out of it now. He lifted them to chest height, allowing his erection to spring into view. If his master noticed, he chose to say nothing. "If I am to be washed the way I want to be washed, you are going to need your hands unbound. Tied like this you won't be able to get to all the places I need got to." He untied the bindings, letting them drop to the floor.
"To start your career as my servant, you can mix my bath water." Allan wasn't aware this was to be a career so much as a temporary interruption to being Gisborne's second in command; not that he'd dreamt of being that as a child. His musings were suddenly interrupted as he was pulled towards the bath by a strong hand wrapped around his erection. He made every effort to keep up with Carter's long strides back to the bath; he feared for his most prized possessions if he lagged behind. Thankfully the grip was released as quickly as it had been applied. Resting one hand on the rim of the bath, he plunged the other into the water; it felt wonderfully warm. Swirling his hand around, the room filled with the scent of various spices, in particular, lavender; that explained the smell of Carter earlier. The knight seemed happy with the results, though much of that was down to the view of the naked boy bent over the bath.
"That will do," said Carter, "stand back." Allan did as he was told, thankful that his erection had waned somewhat. He stood with his hands at his sides, drops of warm water from his hand dripping down his leg. The knight climbed into the bath, lowering himself onto the seat at one end of it. The water covered him to the waist. Leaning back he let out a comfortable sigh and rested his arms on the rim of the barrel. A beckoning of the hand, and a quick "Here" brought the boy to the side of the bath. Covering his face with his hands, he slipped off the seat submerging his head and chest. Allan noted that there was no fear of attack in the man, and the position he was in allowed for a good view of the body he expected to be touching soon. Lifting himself back onto the seat the knight ran his hands up over his hair and down to his neck, before returning them to the side of the tub. Allan glanced at the straw coloured hair, now darkened by the water, which lay flat against the man's head. "I do enjoy my training," said Carter, "but it does make me grimy, which is where you come in."
Never having bathed anybody before, and not being a frequenter of bath houses with maids, Allan was unsure exactly how to proceed. After a moment's hesitation he was directed by the knight saying, "Start with my shoulders" and leaning forward. Taking up position at the head of the bath, Allan was afforded a clear view of the knight's spine all the way down his back until it vanished between those muscular buttocks. Out of sight of his master he was able to appreciate the view uninterrupted. He licked his lips, dipped his hands into the water, and laid them on the collarbone before him. Still not entirely sure what he was doing, he started gently, making circular motions across the muscles. "Harder." It was a command he'd heard before, but up to now it had always been from the mouth of a wench, in the heat of passion. Although the situation was different, his reaction was the same; he went harder, covering as much flesh as he could with each touch. "Oh God that feels good" groaned Carter, making Allan blush. His face wasn't the only place blood was rushing however, as his erection hardened, pressed up against the outside of the bath; if he wasn't so pre-occupied he'd have worried about getting splinters.
Carter tipped his head back fixing his boy with eyes so deep it seemed possible to drown in them. "Chest and stomach." Allan made to move, but was stopped. "Stay where you are. Lean over. Make sure you cover every inch." Warming to his task by the minute, he leaned forward, dipping into the water before him, only just avoiding touching the knight's cock again. Guessing he knew what his master wanted now, he began to firmly massage the muscular chest under his hands. As if by way of confirmation the nipples under his palms began to harden. Glancing downwards he confirmed they weren't the only things getting firmer.
Before today he would have been horrified at such a reaction, but the steady drip drip of images that had come to mind since he first saw Carter had changed that. Something about this man attracted him, regardless of what he did to him. At one level this scared him, as he wondered just how far he'd let himself be pushed; at another it excited him more than any affair he could remember, and given how miserable his life had been recently he was happy for any relief, however unexpected a form it came in.
He decided to take matters into his own hands. Wetting his hands again he planted them at the top of the taut stomach, and began circling downwards until he felt thick curls of hair under his fingertips. Not sure how much further he should go, he paused. "It seems you are the quick learner I was hoping for" said Carter calmly, "You've earned yourself another reward, boy. You're going to share my bath. Get in." Allan had never been in a bath like this before, and he had no intention of turning down the opportunity, or giving the knight the chance to change his mind. He rushed to the side of the tub, and climbed in as quickly as he could. Settling himself on the seat opposite his master, he groaned as the warm water caressed his naked flesh. "I should have guessed you'd be a groaner," said Carter, making the boy blush as he realised what had been said.
His relaxation didn't last for long. Having closed his eyes for a moment, he was disturbed by something hitting the middle of his chest. His eyelids sprang open again, to reveal the knight's foot tapping him. "Just because you're in my bath, it doesn't mean you've finished with your duties. My feet ache." Allan knew what to do about this. He'd become quite experienced over the years at massaging feet, always young ladies', and as far as he could tell it was something he was good at. Manoeuvring himself so Carter's thigh was resting on his leg, he took hold of the foot before him. It was much larger than any he'd held before, but then his companion was a deal bigger than anyone he'd touched while naked before too. Starting at the ball of the foot he began to gently rub and caress it, the way he had done so many times before. He took pride in this activity, but the size and look of the foot in his hands started putting him off. Closing his eyes again he found it easier to concentrate on his technique, letting the scents from the bath water fill his lungs.
Foot massage was something of a set piece for him, so it was without any forethought that he slipped his lips around the knight's big toe, and sucked it into his mouth. His tongue found the tiny peak on the underside of the toe and began swiping at it in time with the motions of his fingers. Sure as night followed day, teeth began scraping backwards and forwards across the toe. The sound of hitched breaths and lapping water filled the room overwhelming the quiet sucking that had filled it moments before.
Opening his eyes, but making sure to keep his tongue and teeth at their labours, Allan glanced over at his master. Carter had shifted forward on his seat and moved his free leg out to one side. One hand rested on his thigh, while the other, gripping firmly, slid up and down the shaft of his now fully hard cock. With each downward stroke the purple head was revealed, only to vanish again as the fist pushed the foreskin back into place. Perhaps through some sixth sense he realised he was being watched, as after a moment he lifted his head and made eye contact again. Allan grinned back, happy to see that he had not lost any of his skill with feet, just because its recipient had switched genders.
Carter stopped pleasuring himself, and, holding his cock at its base, spoke. " I've got something else to put in that mouth of yours." Allan let the toe slide out of his grip as he considered the offer. This really would be crossing a line. Sharing another man's bath was generally seen as acceptable, and at a push he could come up with a plausible excuse for sucking on a man's toe, but putting a cock in your mouth? That would be the clearest of signals that you wanted to be treated as a maid in the bedchamber, and he'd never wanted that before. But then this had already been a day of firsts for him, and glancing over at the secured door he realised this was his chance to try something entirely new. The knight would almost certainly say nothing about these events, as he would just incriminate himself as well, and what safer place could there be to experiment. The priests said it would send you to hell, but hadn't they already said all outlaws were damned? If that was his fate, he might as well do as much living as he could in this world. "Not bein' funny, sir, but I ain't ever done this before, so ..."
Carter stared back at him. "So I shouldn't expect it to be any good? I'm not in the habit of settling for second best."
"And I ain't askin' you to. I just might need you to go a bit slower than usual ... treat me like a virgin, 'cos that's what I am."
The knight chuckled to himself before replying, "I doubt you were ever a virgin. Be assured you won't be by the time I've finished with you. Enough talk. Get on your knees and show me what you can do."
Allan slipped gently off the seat and on to his knees, as his master's legs parted. In the distance he could hear the drip drip of water from the feet now hanging over the sides of the bath. He'd been pleasured this way himself of course, but only a couple of times, one of which had ended with him nursing tooth marks following a particularly ill judged comment. Being at the other end of the process was like being a stranger in a foreign land; everything looked familiar, but somehow quite different. He decided his best choice was to do to Carter what he had enjoyed having done to himself. Taking the cock at the base in one hand, he pulled down until the head was fully revealed, then placed his tongue flat against it before sweeping upwards until the shaft and head were laved in spit. The groan from above confirmed that he was doing something right.
After another trail of saliva had been laid on the hard flesh, and remembering his own experiences, Allan covered his teeth with his lips and slid the head into his mouth. He'd been concerned that the taste would make him wretch, but in reality the strongest taste was of the herbs and spices in the water. Swirling his tongue around in his mouth, laying glancing blows on the shaft and head, he felt a pair of hands grip either side of his head. He knew what was expected of him now, and wanted to do it, but just needed to overcome his fears. He swallowed, inadvertently rubbing the cock against the roof of his mouth, causing a long low groan to escape from the knight's mouth. Pleased with the results, he decided to go for it. Lowering his mouth inch by inch down the shaft, he stopped when the head neared the back of his throat. "Swallow. Then you'll fit it all in."
Doing exactly as he'd been told, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down again as his nose plunged into a forest of wet, curly hair. Carter had lifted his hips slightly, letting his balls rise from the water. Allan took hold of them, cupping them before running his finger from the back of the scrotum to the front, meeting his lower lip. Needing to breathe, he pulled back slightly, but was stopped by the hands on his head. The knight had obviously seen this before. "You have a nose to breathe through," he said, "your mouth is to service my cock. Is that clear?"
Allan tipped his head back a little, just managing to make eye contact with his master. He tried to say "yes", which unsurprisingly came out as an incoherent rumble. "I do like to see a pair of bright eyes looking up at me with my hard cock vanishing into the mouth below them" he murmured, his eyes locked on the boy's face, before he started thrusting his length into the mouth held in place by his hands. Each time he hit the back of the boy's throat he let out a low groan. Allan managed to find a way, though later he would have no idea how, to breathe whilst his mouth was stretched in ways he had never imagined possible. And yet, for all that this might seem like abuse to an outsider, he found it a source of pride that he could pleasure this man so easily. After a few minutes of thrusting and pausing, groaning and sucking, Carter pulled the boy off his cock, filling the room with a loud slap as it smacked against his stomach. "For a virgin, you have a natural skill," he said, "but now I'm wondering if it's just your mouth that is that good. Your actions have shown me that you deserve another reward."
Pulling his legs back into the water, and sitting himself more upright on his seat, he leant over the edge of the bath and wiped a hand on the towel to dry it, before lifting the lid of the pot which held the herbs and spices that were scenting the water and room. From within it he pulled out a tall thin clay pot stopped fast with what looked like cork. He opening it with a satisfying pop and poured something into the palm of his hand. When Allan tried to lift his head up to see what it was, he was stopped in his tracks. "Stay where you are boy. There's nothing to interest your head here, quite the reverse in fact. Turn around, and grip the edge of the bath, and lift that virgin arse of yours out of the water. It's time I did a little bit of exploring."
It was clear to both men exactly what was going to be explored; the only questions in Allan's mind were how much it was going to hurt and whether that would have any influence on the way it was done. He tensed himself in expectation, and gritted his teeth. "This will be a lot more painful if you don't relax." Contradicting everything his body was telling him, he let the tension out of his body. Almost immediately he felt an oily finger slide between his buttocks. It felt odd, since nobody had ever touched him there before, but not unpleasant. The second stroke touched his entrance, sending a shiver throughout his body, and speeding up his heart rate and breathing. This was noticed by Carter, who chuckled before asking, "You like that, don't you? Do you want some more?"
Catching his breath, he murmured "Please, sir." This was evidently the correct answer, as moments later the finger retraced its path, only this time pausing a little longer, pressing a little harder against the opening, sending a stronger buzz through his body. Another groan filled the room. Just as he had got used to the rhythmic rubbing, used to the regular jolt of pleasure through his body, everything stepped up a gear. Having vanished, to be coated in more oil, the finger reappeared at the base of his spine. This time though it stopped at the puckered entrance and, having rubbed it liberally, slid inside, widening the entrance whilst touching where no finger had ever touched before. Allan's eyes bulged as a stinging pain washed over him. Biting his lip he tried not to take any notice of it, concentrating on the pleasure he'd felt only moments earlier.
As Carter continued to slide his finger in and out, he noticed the boy's breathing beginning to return to normal. "See," he said, "if you just relax, it soon stops hurting. You know my cock is a lot thicker than my finger, so I'm going to have to stretch you open a lot more before you're ready for the hardest fucking you've ever had." Allan mused to himself that this was bound to be the hardest, as it would be the first time he'd ever had another person inside him. Of course he'd made a fair number of women gasp and pant, and he wondered if any of them had gone through this sort of pain; there had been a few times when he'd been asked to stop, or slow down, but by the end of it all parties had been fully satisfied, as far as he could tell, so he decided the right thing to do was to suffer the pain until it stopped hurting. Even as he thought about it now he realised his body was adapting to the intrusion, letting the strangely thrilling sensations blot out the initial stabs of pain.
Carter's addition of a second finger followed a similar pattern. At first there was discomfort, then pain, then a strange sort of physical acceptance of the situation, shortly followed by pleasure, forcing groans and pants out of the boy. For his part Allan found the initial pain disappearing much quicker than it had before. When the fingers were pulled back and just left stationary, he was unable to stop himself from pushing back onto them. "One more, and you'll be ready" said the knight, removing his fingers entirely and dipping them in the oil in his palm. Leaning forward now he slowly worked the three fingers into the tight warmth of the boy. At the same time his free hand applied the remaining oil liberally to his cock, covering every inch of it from base to head. "Need to be nice and slippery," he said between panting breaths, before I slide inside you, you dirty boy."
After half a dozen or so thrusts, the puckered entrance was open enough, and the fingers were removed. Allan heard them being splashed about in the water, then the bath creaking as, he guessed, his companion positioned himself for the onslaught to come. A wave of fear washed over him again; fingers were one thing, but he'd seen the size of the thing about to slide inside him, and he was worried no amount of positive thinking would get him past the pain it would produce. He waited for the grip of hand on his hips or shoulders, but instead heard hands gripping the sides of the bath, and felt the lightest of touches in the middle of his back, as lips planted a series of kisses up to the base of his neck. Warm breath fell on his ear, as Carter whispered, "I'll take it slowly at first, but once you're used to the heft of me, I'll take you so hard and so deep, you'll wonder if you'll ever walk again. Now relax so I can do what I was put here to do." It wasn't the greatest pep talk he'd ever had, but he appreciated the sentiment.
The head stroked up and down his crack a couple of times before it pushed in. Preparation by fingers and oil helped, but the flesh pushing into him was harder and thicker than mere digits, even three of them, and he yelped as he expanded to accommodate it. Carter waited for a moment, before starting a gentle rocking motion, in and out, in and out. Allan gritted his teeth again, hissing through the pain, not that the knight seemed to notice, or act on it. At the conclusion of each set of twenty or so thrusts, the nobleman would press in a little deeper, slowly but surely inching into the boy, who was now panting more than hissing, finding himself able to cope with the hard muscle deep inside him. Once he was into the hilt, Carter straightened his back and took hold of the boy's hips. "So tight" he murmured.
"So big" replied Allan, panting again as the thrusting resumed.
Tightening his grip, Carter began a series of short hard powerful thrusts, shaking the whole tub and making the water splash around. Allan could do nothing but hold on and groan, an odd vibrato noise that filled the room. There was a pause, with just enough time to catch his breath before he realised what was happening next. Suddenly he felt quite empty; the knight had pulled out of him completely. "Tell me what you want, boy."
It didn't need any long-winded consideration to answer that question. "Please sir. Fuck me sir." The pleading in the voice was plain to hear.
"It would be," said the nobleman, sliding his cock head over the entrance as he spoke, "a pleasure." He rammed in up to the hilt, sending a torrent of pain, followed by an overwhelming wave of pleasure through the boy.
This cycle of rapid thrusts followed by long deep strokes continued to build as the bath water grew cooler. Carter lent forward again, and whispered, "I'm going to fill you with my seed, boy, but I need to make some room first." Allan was past knowing or caring what that meant. All he could focus on now was the feeling of this man inside him, working his body like a blacksmith worked metal; heating him up, then bending, stretching, and twisting him into something beautiful, making him more than he was before. He reacted to hands pushing him, moving forward so his chest was half over the lip of the barrel. Still inside him, Carter moved, placing a foot on the seat beside him. A hand took hold of him at the left shoulder, pulling him up slightly, whilst the knight's other hand grasped his hard cock tightly. "I'm not going to stop until we're both satisfied."
The change in position meant that this time when he thrust in deep, Carter hit something inside Allan's body that had never been hit before. "Jesus!" he moaned, as his mind was flooded with pleasure, blocking out everything else around him. His eyes rolled back into his head for a moment, making him think the room had been filed with stars. "Good?" asked the knight, already sure of the answer.
"Fantastic." His voice was slightly raspy now, his mouth dry from all the groaning and panting. He wanted a drink, but that would mean separating, and he couldn't conceive of anything more stupid than that at this moment. Another sequence of short hard thrusts came close to the spot inside him but didn't quite get there; it was as if he was being teased. He barely noticed the hand working his own shaft in time to the movements behind him.
"Tell me when you're close." He wondered why this needed to be known. Was he going to be denied at the last moment? With the merest fraction of his brain still able to reason, he decided it best to trust that Carter knew what he was doing; the evidence so far was overwhelming.
Another deep thrust made contact inside him, sending a shock wave throughout his body. He knew he couldn't resist much longer, but why would he want to anyway? The fist around his manhood was beginning to work its magic as well, though he knew it would only be the straw that broke the camel's back. The next sequence of short thrusts confirmed it. "I'm close" he groaned, wondering what the information would lead to. Taking the words as a sanction that permitted him to do whatever was required to finish the job, Carter lunged in up to the hilt, followed by a sequence of hard thrusts without drawing back at all. Hit over and over again in short order, Allan's body gave up any semblance of control. With a loud moan, arching his back he came, jerk after jerk producing string after string of seed. The tensing of the muscles around his cock pushed Carter over the edge. Giving a loud roar he pushed as deep as he could into the boy's warm embrace, emptying himself in thrust after thrust. Once completely spent he looked down at Allan, and realised he had fainted. Wiping the sweat trickling down his brow he lent forward and whispered "Not such a virgin now my beautiful boy."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When he came to Allan was disorientated for a moment. He was sitting in the bath, where Carter had been, and he seemed to have been washed. Hearing footsteps he turned to see the knight, naked, walking towards him. "I thought you needed a wash," he said, "after working up such a sweat."
"Thank you" croaked the boy, suddenly remembering how his throat had got so sore.
"There's a soothing mead for you over there," he pointed to the window which did indeed have a goblet standing before it, "but you should get out of that water before you get a chill."
As he stood, a towel was wrapped around him, and once out of the bath he was rubbed down. "If this is another reward," he chuckled, "you needn't've bothered. I got all the rewards I needed in the bath."
"You've earned all the rewards I could give you," said the knight, "your clothes are over on the bed, and I release you from your bondage to me," a raised eyebrow made him chuckle, "you may go, when you are ready."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The knock on his door was unexpected, but when Carter opened it he was more than satisfied. Standing before him, looking slightly dishevelled, was Allan, clad once again in a tight fitting, but different, leather outfit. "And what can I do for you?" asked the knight, his eyes running up and down the body he knew so well.
Allan swallowed, his train of thought interrupted by those piercing blue eyes. He'd practised what he was going to say on the way here until it was word perfect in his mind, but now all those words had scattered, like a flock of birds disturbed by a canon shot. "I um ... that is ... I just wondered if you were in need of some company? These nights can get awful cold, just a single man in a big empty bed."
Carter lent towards him. "Suppose I wanted more than just company?" he asked, "If I wanted a boy I could pleasure all through the small hours, whenever the mood took me? Is that something you'd be interested in?"
"On two conditions. One, that you still have some of that oil left -", a nod confirmed it, "- and two, that you call me Allan, 'cos I want to be your boy, but I ain't bein' your servant again."
There was a moment's pause. "You'd best come in then, Allan, I'm already feeling a slight chill." The door closed behind the two men, now locked in a tongue-tangled kiss.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When the sun's early rays filtered through the window, Allan got up and dressed himself. His progress was interrupted by numerous yawns and stretches. He hadn't slept much. The mood had taken Carter many times during the night, and each time he had taken his boy, wringing what seemed to be the very last drop of pleasure from him, until the next time came and more was somehow found. Walking slowly back to his own room, Allan discovered aches in places he didn't know he had, not that he would trade relief now for the delights of last night. Reaching his bed he fell on to it, hoping to catch a little sleep before the new day began.
Later today he would be caught napping by Gisborne, which would just add to his woes, but how could he explain his tiredness? Obviously, "I was up all night playin' 'ide the sword with Carter" wouldn't serve as a suitable answer.