Robin of Sherwood Fic: Transition of Power (Philip Mark/Guy of Gisburne)
Title:Transition of Power
Fandom: Robin of Sherwood
Pairing:Philip Mark/Guy of Gisburne (with allusions to Robert de Rainault/Guy of Gisburne
Rating: R
Word Count: 1985
Summary:A couple of "missing scenes" as it were from the episode "The Sheriff of Nottingham"
A/N: For everyone to enjoy, but with special consideration for jenavira. Although I had earlier mentioned writing pr0n at work, it's not overly descriptive. I suppose what makes it so different than my other slash fics is that it doesn't not in fact "fade to black" like I usually do. Also, first fic of the year! \0/
Transition of Power
Philip Mark stood outside watching the soldiers mount-up, but with particular interest in Sir Guy of Gisburne. "Remember, Gisburne, only six. No need to be greedy, hm?"
"As you say, my lord," the young knight said, putting on his helmet and obscuring his deceptively boyish features. His bright blues eyes flicked briefly past Mark's shoulder, then with a viciously smug smirk he gathered the reins in one hand, turned his horse and ordered his men to follow.
"An excellent rider," Mark observed aloud. "Must have strong thighs." He was about to comment on the lack of response from the man beside him, but was distracted by a familiar figure galloping after the soldiers.
Watching the Saracen ride off with no doubt that Nasir person on his mind made Philip marvel at how thousands of miles from their homeland, his pet assassin managed to find the object of his vengeance thanks to a political manoeuvre. It was a ludicrous coincidence. He would say it smacked of fate if he believed in such a thing. No, man made his own luck, and for one it had finally ran out.
He turned around and looked down at Robert de Rainault, his small frame tight with tension and barely checked outrage. Mark merely quirked an eyebrow at him and headed back inside. "Tell the kitchens to have a meal ready by the time Gisburne returns."
"I do not take orders from you!" De Rainault growled.
Mark stopped abruptly and turned on heel, causing the other man to almost run into him. "Order? According to the king's orders, I am in charge here, which means yes, you do take orders from me. Which reminds me, I need you to find me a suitable room."
"I've taken the liberty." De Giscard slid out from the shadows, all sharky smiles. "Temporary of course. I assume that once de Rainault's packed, you'd take his chambers."
Mark snorted. "You do assume. Frankly, I find the idea of using a bed once occupied by such a man quite distasteful."
The man in question made a curious noise; like a dog choking on a bone who just had his tail trod upon. "You....you-" De Rainault had turned comically purple.
"Breathe, de Rainault, you'll do yourself an injury."
One round eye twitched, and after a long, shaky breath, his colour began to turn back to normal. Satisfied that de Rainault wasn't going to snap like an overdrawn bowstring, he turned back to de Giscard. "Show me. I could use a rest after the journey, and I'll have little time for it with all the work to be done in the coming days. De Rainault, you will inform me when Guy returns with the prisoners."
The familiarity with Gisburne's name brought some of the unhealthy colour back to de Rainault's face. "Don't let Gisburne's current, eager obedience blind you. At the slightest affront he's as petulant and rebellious as a child."
"Then perhaps he's just in need of a firmer and..." he knowingly looked the erstwhile sheriff up and down, "more skilled hand to be under."
De Rainault glowered magnificently, perfectly understanding every meaning of Mark's words. He had heard the whispers and giggles at court about the sheriff of Nottingham and his steward. Given de Rainault's reactions to Mark's open interest and suggestive remarks, it would have seemed the rumours were true. He chuckled at the small man, and turning his back on him once again, followed de Giscard to his rooms.
Hours later, de Rainault's seething and disrespect was no longer amusing, his jibes overstepping the bounds of simple jealousy. Mark reacted accordingly.
That night, comfortable in his chambers, he had not let the insignificant rat affect his mood. He was going to enjoy this new position, already having taken great pleasure in belittling that incompetent weasel. Now having the excessively pretty steward as his own was an unexpected perk.
He poured the younger man a cup of wine and handed it to him saying, "Not that I'm complaining, but the way you so easily abandoned de Rainault....I can't help buy wonder if you'd do the same to me someday."
Gisburne gave a sardonic laugh. "It's no more than what he taught me: Always side with whomever looks more likely to win, has more power." He took a drink, then frowned down into the contents of his cup. His mind wandering probably to the former sheriff now lost in the woods or better yet, dead.
Mark decided it was probably best for Gisburne to to stop thinking all together for the evening. He let him take one more drink, then removed the cup from his hand. "I think it's about time you removed your clothes, don't you?" He cocked an eyebrow and smirked encouragingly.
Gisburne didn't seem to understand Mark right away, blinking at him a couple times. Surely he wasn't surprised by the suggestion. That Gisburne could have anticipated any other motive to being asked to the sheriff's chambers seemed unlikely. Maybe he was taken off-guard at how abruptly it came about, perhaps expecting some kind of seduction? Mark didn't think it would have been necessary given the way young Gisburne offered himself in every other way without prompting.
But the moment passed and he started undoing his belt, keeping his eyes on the task, his head bent. The seemingly virginal shyness was endearing. Mark almost regretted the removal of the tunic Gisburne had been wearing that day, a pretty blue that brought out his eyes and made his pale blonde hair glow, but only almost. Guy of Gisburne, fully unclad, was far more...stirring than some flattering garment.
For his own part, Mark had changed out of his favourite leathers before Gisburne arrived and made himself comfortable in his bedclothes and a fur robe to keep off the horrible damp and draft that permeated the dilapidated castle. There was so much work to be done, he didn't know where to start. But when it came to pleasure, he was was never indecisive, especially with a tall, pale knight standing before him, amazingly unaffected by the cold. Curiously, Gisburne kept his head down and eyes averted during Mark's examination.
No longer satisfied with just looking, Philip Mark set down his wine, approached Gisburne and ran his hand down his bare, smooth chest.
Gisburne flinched at the touch instinctively and tried to step back, but Mark grabbed his shoulder with his other hand, keeping him in place. "My lord, forgive me, I-" Gisburne stammered in apology.
Mark drew him closer, contemplating this reluctance. Guy had been so eager earlier. He was so easily able to betray de Rainault politically, and yet hesitated when it came to betraying him sexually. Could it be that he actually had feelings for his former master?
Mark smiled against Gisburne's collarbone and began to laugh. He moved back only far enough to bring a hand up to Gisburne's cheek. "My dear boy, you really are a treasure."
Gisburne stared down at him, brow knit in confusion. Mark pulled him down to kiss away the bewildered pout. There was no resistance now, in fact Mark found himself unprepared for the force behind Gisburne's kiss. He didn't care much for starting out quite so rough. Gradually, he guided Gisburne into a gentler embrace, showing him that this was not a fight.
He pulled back, letting their lips cling for a moment longer, and looked up for Gisburne's reaction. The younger man had gone pink in the face, his eyes betraying his slight daze, and a small smile graced his reddened lips. Mark resisted giving him some sort of patronising platitude such as "There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" And instead ran a thumb over the bottom of Gisburne's full, lower lip and softly told him to go lie down.
Once Gisburne settled on the bed, he watched with curiosity as Mark removed his own clothing. With the exposure of broad shoulders and strong chest, Gisburne's breath quickened in excitement and possibly apprehension, having not bedded with a man who matched him in strength. Mark hoped it was a delicious, swirling combination of the two.
As he knelt on the bed, Gisburne made to turn over, but Mark stopped him, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him down again on his back.
"My lord?" Gisburne asked, completely unused to such undemanding treatment.
Mark chuckled. "I hardly think this is the time or place for such formality, Guy." He brushed away fine golden strands of hair from Gisburne's brow.
"Oh. Phil-ip, then." The two halves of his name separated as though Gisburne had a physical block to conquer in using his lord's Christian name.
"I want you to see me," Mark explained.
Gisburne nodded his understanding, watching Mark's every move as he retrieved a bottle of oil he so thoughtfully already had unpacked.
But unaccustomed to the position, Gisburne's eyes squeezed shut in a grimace, and he head fell back as Mark entered him. He grabbed Gisburne's chin none too gently and forced it forward. "I told you to look at me." He thrust again, and Gisburne gasped, his eyelids fluttering, but he mustered his control and kept his eyes open, staring up into his new master's face.
Mark smiled, pleased at his obedience. A smile Gisburne returned, if a little wary. They maintained eye-contact, Mark hoping to purge Gisburne's sense of associating the pain and pleasures of sex with anyone else, especially that other man. He was determined to claim all that was de Rainault's, including this young man's heart.
Their pace quickened. He relished ever whimper, moan, and ragged breath he forced from Guy. He finally allowed Gisburne to break his gaze as his long pale neck arched back and he cried out his completion. Mark's release immediately followed, biting into Gisburne's conveniently exposed neck, causing the other to twitch and moan some more.
Mark rolled off him, allowing them both the ability to catch their breath. Gisburne recovered quicker, and Mark felt the bed and blankets move as he sat up. "Going somewhere?" He asked lazily, keeping his eyes closed.
"I thought...I mean, usually-"
Mark's impatience flared. He sat up, grabbed Gisburne's face with one large hand, violently turning his head around to face him. "Stop it!" He commanded. "I thought I've made it very clear by now, I am not him." He fingers clenched, digging deeper into soft cheeks. "His banishment was not just of his physical person, but of all his ineffective policies, routines, and any hold he had here." He relaxed his hand and stroked his fingers where they had just gripped, leaving long lines of red, and gentled his voice. "Either accept it now, or there'll be no place for you here."
Gisburne's eyes were wide with fear, but also with renewed arousal. Mark scoffed inwardly. The creature must've not only become accustomed to, but also learned to enjoy such abuse, even if he had rebelled against it from time to time. He pulled Gisburne down next to him, keeping a possessive arm around his shoulders. "Get some rest, my dear boy. We have a busy day tomorrow and I need you up early to start the preparations."
Gisburne nodded, his soft hair brushing Mark's shoulder. Mark breathed deep, settling himself and his bedmate more comfortably. Gisburne's breathing evened out in deep sleep not after long, but Mark's thoughts were still working on his plans for Nottingham, confident that the morning would bring the fresh start this shire needed: No more Robin Hoods, reignite proper fear, respect, and awe in these insubordinate serfs. Not to mention that the new post promised to be more profitable monetarily and certain to gain him even more favour with King John. He fell asleep finally, assured that things were definitely going Philip Mark's way.
Fandom: Robin of Sherwood
Pairing:Philip Mark/Guy of Gisburne (with allusions to Robert de Rainault/Guy of Gisburne
Rating: R
Word Count: 1985
Summary:A couple of "missing scenes" as it were from the episode "The Sheriff of Nottingham"
A/N: For everyone to enjoy, but with special consideration for jenavira. Although I had earlier mentioned writing pr0n at work, it's not overly descriptive. I suppose what makes it so different than my other slash fics is that it doesn't not in fact "fade to black" like I usually do. Also, first fic of the year! \0/
Transition of Power
Philip Mark stood outside watching the soldiers mount-up, but with particular interest in Sir Guy of Gisburne. "Remember, Gisburne, only six. No need to be greedy, hm?"
"As you say, my lord," the young knight said, putting on his helmet and obscuring his deceptively boyish features. His bright blues eyes flicked briefly past Mark's shoulder, then with a viciously smug smirk he gathered the reins in one hand, turned his horse and ordered his men to follow.
"An excellent rider," Mark observed aloud. "Must have strong thighs." He was about to comment on the lack of response from the man beside him, but was distracted by a familiar figure galloping after the soldiers.
Watching the Saracen ride off with no doubt that Nasir person on his mind made Philip marvel at how thousands of miles from their homeland, his pet assassin managed to find the object of his vengeance thanks to a political manoeuvre. It was a ludicrous coincidence. He would say it smacked of fate if he believed in such a thing. No, man made his own luck, and for one it had finally ran out.
He turned around and looked down at Robert de Rainault, his small frame tight with tension and barely checked outrage. Mark merely quirked an eyebrow at him and headed back inside. "Tell the kitchens to have a meal ready by the time Gisburne returns."
"I do not take orders from you!" De Rainault growled.
Mark stopped abruptly and turned on heel, causing the other man to almost run into him. "Order? According to the king's orders, I am in charge here, which means yes, you do take orders from me. Which reminds me, I need you to find me a suitable room."
"I've taken the liberty." De Giscard slid out from the shadows, all sharky smiles. "Temporary of course. I assume that once de Rainault's packed, you'd take his chambers."
Mark snorted. "You do assume. Frankly, I find the idea of using a bed once occupied by such a man quite distasteful."
The man in question made a curious noise; like a dog choking on a bone who just had his tail trod upon. "You....you-" De Rainault had turned comically purple.
"Breathe, de Rainault, you'll do yourself an injury."
One round eye twitched, and after a long, shaky breath, his colour began to turn back to normal. Satisfied that de Rainault wasn't going to snap like an overdrawn bowstring, he turned back to de Giscard. "Show me. I could use a rest after the journey, and I'll have little time for it with all the work to be done in the coming days. De Rainault, you will inform me when Guy returns with the prisoners."
The familiarity with Gisburne's name brought some of the unhealthy colour back to de Rainault's face. "Don't let Gisburne's current, eager obedience blind you. At the slightest affront he's as petulant and rebellious as a child."
"Then perhaps he's just in need of a firmer and..." he knowingly looked the erstwhile sheriff up and down, "more skilled hand to be under."
De Rainault glowered magnificently, perfectly understanding every meaning of Mark's words. He had heard the whispers and giggles at court about the sheriff of Nottingham and his steward. Given de Rainault's reactions to Mark's open interest and suggestive remarks, it would have seemed the rumours were true. He chuckled at the small man, and turning his back on him once again, followed de Giscard to his rooms.
Hours later, de Rainault's seething and disrespect was no longer amusing, his jibes overstepping the bounds of simple jealousy. Mark reacted accordingly.
That night, comfortable in his chambers, he had not let the insignificant rat affect his mood. He was going to enjoy this new position, already having taken great pleasure in belittling that incompetent weasel. Now having the excessively pretty steward as his own was an unexpected perk.
He poured the younger man a cup of wine and handed it to him saying, "Not that I'm complaining, but the way you so easily abandoned de Rainault....I can't help buy wonder if you'd do the same to me someday."
Gisburne gave a sardonic laugh. "It's no more than what he taught me: Always side with whomever looks more likely to win, has more power." He took a drink, then frowned down into the contents of his cup. His mind wandering probably to the former sheriff now lost in the woods or better yet, dead.
Mark decided it was probably best for Gisburne to to stop thinking all together for the evening. He let him take one more drink, then removed the cup from his hand. "I think it's about time you removed your clothes, don't you?" He cocked an eyebrow and smirked encouragingly.
Gisburne didn't seem to understand Mark right away, blinking at him a couple times. Surely he wasn't surprised by the suggestion. That Gisburne could have anticipated any other motive to being asked to the sheriff's chambers seemed unlikely. Maybe he was taken off-guard at how abruptly it came about, perhaps expecting some kind of seduction? Mark didn't think it would have been necessary given the way young Gisburne offered himself in every other way without prompting.
But the moment passed and he started undoing his belt, keeping his eyes on the task, his head bent. The seemingly virginal shyness was endearing. Mark almost regretted the removal of the tunic Gisburne had been wearing that day, a pretty blue that brought out his eyes and made his pale blonde hair glow, but only almost. Guy of Gisburne, fully unclad, was far more...stirring than some flattering garment.
For his own part, Mark had changed out of his favourite leathers before Gisburne arrived and made himself comfortable in his bedclothes and a fur robe to keep off the horrible damp and draft that permeated the dilapidated castle. There was so much work to be done, he didn't know where to start. But when it came to pleasure, he was was never indecisive, especially with a tall, pale knight standing before him, amazingly unaffected by the cold. Curiously, Gisburne kept his head down and eyes averted during Mark's examination.
No longer satisfied with just looking, Philip Mark set down his wine, approached Gisburne and ran his hand down his bare, smooth chest.
Gisburne flinched at the touch instinctively and tried to step back, but Mark grabbed his shoulder with his other hand, keeping him in place. "My lord, forgive me, I-" Gisburne stammered in apology.
Mark drew him closer, contemplating this reluctance. Guy had been so eager earlier. He was so easily able to betray de Rainault politically, and yet hesitated when it came to betraying him sexually. Could it be that he actually had feelings for his former master?
Mark smiled against Gisburne's collarbone and began to laugh. He moved back only far enough to bring a hand up to Gisburne's cheek. "My dear boy, you really are a treasure."
Gisburne stared down at him, brow knit in confusion. Mark pulled him down to kiss away the bewildered pout. There was no resistance now, in fact Mark found himself unprepared for the force behind Gisburne's kiss. He didn't care much for starting out quite so rough. Gradually, he guided Gisburne into a gentler embrace, showing him that this was not a fight.
He pulled back, letting their lips cling for a moment longer, and looked up for Gisburne's reaction. The younger man had gone pink in the face, his eyes betraying his slight daze, and a small smile graced his reddened lips. Mark resisted giving him some sort of patronising platitude such as "There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" And instead ran a thumb over the bottom of Gisburne's full, lower lip and softly told him to go lie down.
Once Gisburne settled on the bed, he watched with curiosity as Mark removed his own clothing. With the exposure of broad shoulders and strong chest, Gisburne's breath quickened in excitement and possibly apprehension, having not bedded with a man who matched him in strength. Mark hoped it was a delicious, swirling combination of the two.
As he knelt on the bed, Gisburne made to turn over, but Mark stopped him, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him down again on his back.
"My lord?" Gisburne asked, completely unused to such undemanding treatment.
Mark chuckled. "I hardly think this is the time or place for such formality, Guy." He brushed away fine golden strands of hair from Gisburne's brow.
"Oh. Phil-ip, then." The two halves of his name separated as though Gisburne had a physical block to conquer in using his lord's Christian name.
"I want you to see me," Mark explained.
Gisburne nodded his understanding, watching Mark's every move as he retrieved a bottle of oil he so thoughtfully already had unpacked.
But unaccustomed to the position, Gisburne's eyes squeezed shut in a grimace, and he head fell back as Mark entered him. He grabbed Gisburne's chin none too gently and forced it forward. "I told you to look at me." He thrust again, and Gisburne gasped, his eyelids fluttering, but he mustered his control and kept his eyes open, staring up into his new master's face.
Mark smiled, pleased at his obedience. A smile Gisburne returned, if a little wary. They maintained eye-contact, Mark hoping to purge Gisburne's sense of associating the pain and pleasures of sex with anyone else, especially that other man. He was determined to claim all that was de Rainault's, including this young man's heart.
Their pace quickened. He relished ever whimper, moan, and ragged breath he forced from Guy. He finally allowed Gisburne to break his gaze as his long pale neck arched back and he cried out his completion. Mark's release immediately followed, biting into Gisburne's conveniently exposed neck, causing the other to twitch and moan some more.
Mark rolled off him, allowing them both the ability to catch their breath. Gisburne recovered quicker, and Mark felt the bed and blankets move as he sat up. "Going somewhere?" He asked lazily, keeping his eyes closed.
"I thought...I mean, usually-"
Mark's impatience flared. He sat up, grabbed Gisburne's face with one large hand, violently turning his head around to face him. "Stop it!" He commanded. "I thought I've made it very clear by now, I am not him." He fingers clenched, digging deeper into soft cheeks. "His banishment was not just of his physical person, but of all his ineffective policies, routines, and any hold he had here." He relaxed his hand and stroked his fingers where they had just gripped, leaving long lines of red, and gentled his voice. "Either accept it now, or there'll be no place for you here."
Gisburne's eyes were wide with fear, but also with renewed arousal. Mark scoffed inwardly. The creature must've not only become accustomed to, but also learned to enjoy such abuse, even if he had rebelled against it from time to time. He pulled Gisburne down next to him, keeping a possessive arm around his shoulders. "Get some rest, my dear boy. We have a busy day tomorrow and I need you up early to start the preparations."
Gisburne nodded, his soft hair brushing Mark's shoulder. Mark breathed deep, settling himself and his bedmate more comfortably. Gisburne's breathing evened out in deep sleep not after long, but Mark's thoughts were still working on his plans for Nottingham, confident that the morning would bring the fresh start this shire needed: No more Robin Hoods, reignite proper fear, respect, and awe in these insubordinate serfs. Not to mention that the new post promised to be more profitable monetarily and certain to gain him even more favour with King John. He fell asleep finally, assured that things were definitely going Philip Mark's way.