Short Fic: A Private Room
Title: A Private Room
Author: mideltone_one
Word Count: 1666
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Allan, Marian
Spoilers/Warnings: Set around 2x5
Summary: Allan has his own room for once
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.
"D'you want to come back to mine?" Allan stood by the bed of his rather small castle room, trying out lines. He might not be happy about how things had gone, but he'd always believed that when you were down you had to pick yourself up and count your blessings. There were two obvious plusses to his current situation. One, he was alive and unharmed. Two, for the first time in his life he had his own room, with a private bed.
How many times, he wondered, had he longed for just that. Reaching the end of a delightful evening in the company of a lady (if he fancied a bit of 'posh'), or a serving girl (if he needed things to go a lot further than just a goodnight kiss), he was always faced with the worst of choices: "Can we go back to yours?" or "It'll be more exciting if we do it in the shadows." Usually either option was met with a firm "No!", with, if he was particularly unlucky, an accompanying sharp movement of the girl's knee, removing any need for a venue.
It would all be different now that he had his own place. Once he'd worked his magic, he could idly suggest coming back to his room, mentioning in passing the large comfortable mattress and that the goose feather pillows were the only soft things she'd be feeling all night. She'd swoon; he'd chuckle; they'd hurry back to the castle, past jealous guards' glances; he'd close the door behind them, and before long the bed frame would be creaking in time to their moans. No holding back so her father didn't hear. He didn't worry about the mothers; he could always win them round on the night, or, if necessary, see them separately the next day to explain, or more often demonstrate, just what it was he'd done to produce such noises from their daughters. There were never any complaints after that.
He was in his prime, newly enriched by his association with Gisborne, dressed to kill in his leather tunic, ready for a night of debauchery. So why was he stuck in the castle practicing lines? Because the sheriff had put a curfew on the town, due to some problem or other, and having only been in his employ for a couple of days, Allan didn't want to get caught disobeying a direct order. Once he'd got his feet under the table, he'd bend the rules as his needs dictated, but for now he did not have that option.
In any case, he had some exploring to do. This was the first night in his new room, having spent a couple of days in the guards' quarters while he proved himself worthy to his new masters. He'd been told he'd be moved at the start of the day, but had had to put it to the back of his mind until his labours were complete. Reporting to the quarter master as ordered, he'd been led along numerous corridors until they reached the door, at which point he'd been shown into the room and left to his own devices. Perhaps, instead of day dreaming, he should investigate his surroundings. He'd been told that the room had many modern conveniences, including an inside guarderobe; levels of luxury he never dreamt he'd experience himself.
He had a wander around the room, taking note of the fixtures and fittings, amongst them a stand with a bowl on top of it, and a chest at the foot of the bed. At the far corner of the room, away from the entrance, were two doors, side by side. Opening the one on the left, Allan found another smaller room, with a wooden seat fixed in it; the much vaunted guarderobe. Any amazement at that was quickly eclipsed by the items behind the other door, or rather one item in particular. Opening the door, Allan came face to face with another person. Jumping back in surprise, it took him a moment to realise he was looking at his own reflection. Reaching forward he touched the largest piece of glass he'd ever seen, leaving a dirty make on it. For a moment he considered how he could remove the mark, knowing it would annoy him every time he saw it.
Trying to ignore the smudge, he took a proper look at himself in the looking glass. He wondered why it had been left here, only noticing the large crack at its bottom as his eyes took in the view of himself from head to toe. "Not bad," he commented to himself, enjoying the lack of bystanders to disagree with him. The whole outfit said successful man about town, somebody worth getting to know, he thought, and hopefully, somebody they wouldn't turn down the opportunity to sleep with. Visions of what he'd get up to with his next conquest rushed from his brain to his groin, taking most of the blood with it. As he hardened, he realised it really had been a long time since he'd relieved himself; given that he wasn’t going to get himself a woman tonight, what better way to christen the room, or more precisely the bed, than a solo performance?
First though, he needed to get out of these clothes. Keen as he was to jump into the bed, he knew that clothes of this quality needed to be put away properly, and in the absence of anywhere else to put them, he decided the chest was where they belonged. Lifting the lid he was overwhelmed by the smell of lavender; he'd have to do something about that, or he'd be getting snide comments from Guy, Vasey, and the guards. Seeing the small bag of lavender, he picked it up and threw it over towards the guarderobe, where he thought it could be put to better use.
Propping the lid of the chest open, he noticed the height of the pillows under the top sheet at the head of the bed. His curiosity piqued, he moved to the top of the bed, and pulled the sheet back to reveal two single pillows, covering a long bolster pillow. Picking it up, he stood it upright on the mattress before him, and pulled it into a bear hug. "Tonight, my lovely," he said, "you are going to 'ave the longest, 'ardest seein' to you've ever known." He laid the bolster down again, and stroked a finger down its side, "Give me a moment, my love, and the real fun will begin."
Moving back to the chest, he unfastened the buckles on his tunic. He knew it would be easier with two hands, but his other hand had a more urgent duty to perform. Blindly groping, it found the top of his breeches and slid beneath the fabric, quickly manoeuvring the hard shaft until it was pointing straight up, before giving it a firm squeeze. He let out a sigh, then pulled his hand out to let him take off his tunic. All good intentions regarding the care of his new clothes went straight out the window as the need for release overtook him. Tunic and shirt were quickly discarded in the chest. Breeches' laces were untied, while boots were pulled off, and moments later he was as naked as the day he was born.
Moving quickly over the cold stone floor, he made his way back to the side of the bed, where the bolster lay waiting. Picking it up with one hand, he pulled the top sheet and eiderdown out of the way. "Now then darlin'," he said, before planting a kiss on the bolster, "let's 'ave at it." Throwing himself forward, he landed himself on the bed, with the pillow beneath him. Sliding across the sheet, he positioned himself so his hardness was wedged between the mattress and the bolster. By shifting his weight he was able to tighten or loosen the grip around his shaft. Moving slowly at first, he began to thrust against the bolster. Burying his face in the pillow added the smell of the bed linen to his fantasy, which he found increased his arousal. Lost in the moment he started imagining he really did have a woman in his bed. "You like that don't you?" he asked, as he made a slight change to the angle of his thrusts, which in turn caused the seam of the bolster pillow case to catch his cock head with each movement.
"Oh, God, yes, that feels so good," he groaned as he pushed deeper into the mattress. His pleasure was brought to an abrupt halt, however, when he heard somebody coughing over his shoulder. Rolling onto his back, gripping the bolster with his arms and knees to cover his modesty, he came face to face with Maid Marian, who was blushing just a deeply as he was. "Not bein' funny, m'Lady," he said, sliding to the edge of the bed, and then standing, "but could you not 'ave knocked first?"
Marian, looking less shocked than Allan expected, replied curtly, "Not being funny, but could you not have locked the door? If you had, you wouldn't be so embarrassed now."
"''Ho said I was embarrassed?", he replied, with a grin, "Ain't like there's anything to be ashamed of 'ere." He dropped the bolster, letting his erection smack up against his stomach.
"So I see," she replied, her eyes trailing down his body, pausing at his groin. Lifting her view to his face again, she paused before continuing, "I'm sure your pillow appreciates it."
"She don't mean nothin' to me," he smirked, "I'd be 'appy to replace 'er with you, if you liked." He was certain of her rejection.
"Well it is a cold night," she said calmly, "and it has been a while. You'd best get me undressed, before I change my mind."
Allan's mouth fell open. He hadn't imagined his new room would bring such wonderful results, quite so quickly.
Author: mideltone_one
Word Count: 1666
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Allan, Marian
Spoilers/Warnings: Set around 2x5
Summary: Allan has his own room for once
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.
"D'you want to come back to mine?" Allan stood by the bed of his rather small castle room, trying out lines. He might not be happy about how things had gone, but he'd always believed that when you were down you had to pick yourself up and count your blessings. There were two obvious plusses to his current situation. One, he was alive and unharmed. Two, for the first time in his life he had his own room, with a private bed.
How many times, he wondered, had he longed for just that. Reaching the end of a delightful evening in the company of a lady (if he fancied a bit of 'posh'), or a serving girl (if he needed things to go a lot further than just a goodnight kiss), he was always faced with the worst of choices: "Can we go back to yours?" or "It'll be more exciting if we do it in the shadows." Usually either option was met with a firm "No!", with, if he was particularly unlucky, an accompanying sharp movement of the girl's knee, removing any need for a venue.
It would all be different now that he had his own place. Once he'd worked his magic, he could idly suggest coming back to his room, mentioning in passing the large comfortable mattress and that the goose feather pillows were the only soft things she'd be feeling all night. She'd swoon; he'd chuckle; they'd hurry back to the castle, past jealous guards' glances; he'd close the door behind them, and before long the bed frame would be creaking in time to their moans. No holding back so her father didn't hear. He didn't worry about the mothers; he could always win them round on the night, or, if necessary, see them separately the next day to explain, or more often demonstrate, just what it was he'd done to produce such noises from their daughters. There were never any complaints after that.
He was in his prime, newly enriched by his association with Gisborne, dressed to kill in his leather tunic, ready for a night of debauchery. So why was he stuck in the castle practicing lines? Because the sheriff had put a curfew on the town, due to some problem or other, and having only been in his employ for a couple of days, Allan didn't want to get caught disobeying a direct order. Once he'd got his feet under the table, he'd bend the rules as his needs dictated, but for now he did not have that option.
In any case, he had some exploring to do. This was the first night in his new room, having spent a couple of days in the guards' quarters while he proved himself worthy to his new masters. He'd been told he'd be moved at the start of the day, but had had to put it to the back of his mind until his labours were complete. Reporting to the quarter master as ordered, he'd been led along numerous corridors until they reached the door, at which point he'd been shown into the room and left to his own devices. Perhaps, instead of day dreaming, he should investigate his surroundings. He'd been told that the room had many modern conveniences, including an inside guarderobe; levels of luxury he never dreamt he'd experience himself.
He had a wander around the room, taking note of the fixtures and fittings, amongst them a stand with a bowl on top of it, and a chest at the foot of the bed. At the far corner of the room, away from the entrance, were two doors, side by side. Opening the one on the left, Allan found another smaller room, with a wooden seat fixed in it; the much vaunted guarderobe. Any amazement at that was quickly eclipsed by the items behind the other door, or rather one item in particular. Opening the door, Allan came face to face with another person. Jumping back in surprise, it took him a moment to realise he was looking at his own reflection. Reaching forward he touched the largest piece of glass he'd ever seen, leaving a dirty make on it. For a moment he considered how he could remove the mark, knowing it would annoy him every time he saw it.
Trying to ignore the smudge, he took a proper look at himself in the looking glass. He wondered why it had been left here, only noticing the large crack at its bottom as his eyes took in the view of himself from head to toe. "Not bad," he commented to himself, enjoying the lack of bystanders to disagree with him. The whole outfit said successful man about town, somebody worth getting to know, he thought, and hopefully, somebody they wouldn't turn down the opportunity to sleep with. Visions of what he'd get up to with his next conquest rushed from his brain to his groin, taking most of the blood with it. As he hardened, he realised it really had been a long time since he'd relieved himself; given that he wasn’t going to get himself a woman tonight, what better way to christen the room, or more precisely the bed, than a solo performance?
First though, he needed to get out of these clothes. Keen as he was to jump into the bed, he knew that clothes of this quality needed to be put away properly, and in the absence of anywhere else to put them, he decided the chest was where they belonged. Lifting the lid he was overwhelmed by the smell of lavender; he'd have to do something about that, or he'd be getting snide comments from Guy, Vasey, and the guards. Seeing the small bag of lavender, he picked it up and threw it over towards the guarderobe, where he thought it could be put to better use.
Propping the lid of the chest open, he noticed the height of the pillows under the top sheet at the head of the bed. His curiosity piqued, he moved to the top of the bed, and pulled the sheet back to reveal two single pillows, covering a long bolster pillow. Picking it up, he stood it upright on the mattress before him, and pulled it into a bear hug. "Tonight, my lovely," he said, "you are going to 'ave the longest, 'ardest seein' to you've ever known." He laid the bolster down again, and stroked a finger down its side, "Give me a moment, my love, and the real fun will begin."
Moving back to the chest, he unfastened the buckles on his tunic. He knew it would be easier with two hands, but his other hand had a more urgent duty to perform. Blindly groping, it found the top of his breeches and slid beneath the fabric, quickly manoeuvring the hard shaft until it was pointing straight up, before giving it a firm squeeze. He let out a sigh, then pulled his hand out to let him take off his tunic. All good intentions regarding the care of his new clothes went straight out the window as the need for release overtook him. Tunic and shirt were quickly discarded in the chest. Breeches' laces were untied, while boots were pulled off, and moments later he was as naked as the day he was born.
Moving quickly over the cold stone floor, he made his way back to the side of the bed, where the bolster lay waiting. Picking it up with one hand, he pulled the top sheet and eiderdown out of the way. "Now then darlin'," he said, before planting a kiss on the bolster, "let's 'ave at it." Throwing himself forward, he landed himself on the bed, with the pillow beneath him. Sliding across the sheet, he positioned himself so his hardness was wedged between the mattress and the bolster. By shifting his weight he was able to tighten or loosen the grip around his shaft. Moving slowly at first, he began to thrust against the bolster. Burying his face in the pillow added the smell of the bed linen to his fantasy, which he found increased his arousal. Lost in the moment he started imagining he really did have a woman in his bed. "You like that don't you?" he asked, as he made a slight change to the angle of his thrusts, which in turn caused the seam of the bolster pillow case to catch his cock head with each movement.
"Oh, God, yes, that feels so good," he groaned as he pushed deeper into the mattress. His pleasure was brought to an abrupt halt, however, when he heard somebody coughing over his shoulder. Rolling onto his back, gripping the bolster with his arms and knees to cover his modesty, he came face to face with Maid Marian, who was blushing just a deeply as he was. "Not bein' funny, m'Lady," he said, sliding to the edge of the bed, and then standing, "but could you not 'ave knocked first?"
Marian, looking less shocked than Allan expected, replied curtly, "Not being funny, but could you not have locked the door? If you had, you wouldn't be so embarrassed now."
"''Ho said I was embarrassed?", he replied, with a grin, "Ain't like there's anything to be ashamed of 'ere." He dropped the bolster, letting his erection smack up against his stomach.
"So I see," she replied, her eyes trailing down his body, pausing at his groin. Lifting her view to his face again, she paused before continuing, "I'm sure your pillow appreciates it."
"She don't mean nothin' to me," he smirked, "I'd be 'appy to replace 'er with you, if you liked." He was certain of her rejection.
"Well it is a cold night," she said calmly, "and it has been a while. You'd best get me undressed, before I change my mind."
Allan's mouth fell open. He hadn't imagined his new room would bring such wonderful results, quite so quickly.