FIC:TRYST Guy/Marian/Robin R
Title: Tryst
Author: Unsentimental Fool
Fandom: BBC Robin Hood
Pairing: Guy/Marian/Robin
Rating: R
Word Count: 5,000
Summary: Marian plays a small jest on her suitors.
Notes/Warnings: Het and slash, R for language and sex. Dub-con.
Robin matched his slowing breathing to hers. She smiled at him, almost purring with satisfaction, then glanced around. They were still alone, of course. The others knew better than to come anywhere near this particular clearing while Marian was visiting him in Sherwood.
“Happy?” she asked cheerfully. Well, yes. And no. Robin pushed at his breeches, trying to get comfortable. He hadn’t soiled his clothing since adolescence; it made him feel tawdry, childish. God, it was marvellous to have the woman that he loved bringing him off, giving her pleasure in return, but...
“Marian,” He tried to sound encouraging rather than just annoyed. Because it really had been nice.
“This would be even nicer with a few less clothes in the way.” He shifted the cold, sticky cloth away from himself. “Just let me show you. I could be far more delicate.”
She could be far less delicate. The thought of her warm hands on his bare skin was making him shiver.
“You know that you can trust me to control myself. We don’t need to do anything that you don’t want to.”
This time, instead of laughing, she looked at him, almost serious. His heart leaped and he fought to keep his smile loving and gentle.
“Not here.” She looked around again. “Not outside. I know a place. Tomorrow night, after dark. But you have to promise me some things....”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Guy lived for these moments, which in his more rational moments he knew was a stupid and dangerous way to feel about a woman. Even this woman. He had an arm round her waist, a hand buried in her hair and he had pulled her close to kiss her. She was kissing him back with enthusiasm, tongue warm, breasts pressing against his doublet, and his groin was burning with need, hard against her.
She felt that, sure enough. She shifted, pressed closer and he could feel her amusement. Damn the woman! She didn’t act like a frightened virgin, but she had always refused to give him more.
This afternoon, though, it seemed as if she might be repenting her harshness. He’d pulled her willingly enough into an empty room, pushed the door closed- no lock on this one, unfortunately, but he had his back against the door. They couldn’t be disturbed. Her hands moved downwards, started to stroke the bulge through his leather.
He wasn’t making do with that. He could barely feel it. Guy let go of her long enough to unfasten his trousers, jerk them down roughly over his hips, capture her fluttering hands and place them firmly on his bare cock, hold them there while he kissed her again.
Marian tried to pull away, gave up after no more than a token effort. Her hands started to explore. Guy was rather pleased to find that she had no idea of what she was doing. He wanted to be the first she’d touched. He certainly intended to be the last. She’d do this in their marriage bed...he sometimes wondered if he’d ever bear to leave it, with her there.
He let her experiment for a while; it amused him, aroused him further. Then he showed her, hands over hers. When she had got the idea he let go, reached out for the hem of her dress, started pulling it up.
She dragged her mouth away from his. “Not here,” and she let go of him to push his hands away. He had better things to do than to argue, like get those hot little hands back where they belonged, like tip his head back and groan in delight. He had the presence of mind, just, to cup his own hand at the last moment. Some inexperienced women were put off by the mess; he didn’t want to risk that, right now. Plenty of time for introducing her to all sorts of things, later.
Guy kissed Marian tenderly, appreciatively, stretching his hand to one side unobtrusively. The servants would clean the tapestry, soon enough.
“You said ‘not here,’” he said, hopefully. “We could use my quarters, next time.”
She looked up at him, eyes bright. God, she was aching for it! “Not in the castle,” she said, firmly. “I know a place. But there are rules...”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Guy had arrived at the deserted and isolated cottage just after dark. “No light,” she’d said, but he had more sense than that. The covered lantern on the floor by the big bed gave off the faintest glow, not enough to see the shape of the room by.
He undressed, climbed under the covers- someone had put on clean sheets, he was pleased to see- set his sword on the floor, within easy reach. This was the edge of Sherwood. Nothing but the promise of Marian would have got him out here after dark on his own.
It wasn’t a long wait. He heard the door open, saw the faintest outline of a black shadow against the near black night, heard the latch close. She’d asked for silence; he bit down his greeting. The rustling as she undressed was the sweetest sound that he’d heard for a long time. He’d have loved to strip her himself, but the idea of her naked body climbing into the bed next to him was just as good; he ran his hand up and down his taut cock, toes curling in anticipation. How he was going to hold back he didn’t know; maybe as soon as she touched him he’d just roll her on her back and fuck her. Maybe that’s what she wanted. Surely it was. The dark, the silence; she didn’t want to be courted. She just wanted him to take her; he let out a small involuntary moan.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Robin could see virtually nothing. The edge of the bed, where a darkened lantern stood underneath. The slightest shape in the darkness- was that Marian sitting up waiting for him? He paused, listening. Yes, breathing from the bed. Rapid breathing, though not loud. Was she nervous? That would explain the request for darkness, for quiet. He was hot and he was eager but he could be gentle. They had all night. Pleasure her first, then she’d let him make love to her in the way he wanted.
Naked, he stepped towards the bed, grinned. The King of Sherwood always made a dramatic entrance. He pulled the blankets up from the bottom of the bed, started crawling under the covers. Stroked the beautifully muscular legs- all that horseriding- laughed to himself as they parted eagerly. He ran his tongue up the inside of her thigh, feeling her shiver in pleasure, then moved to bury his face in her groin.
For a moment Robin thought that he’d uncovered a shocking secret. Then he remembered that he’d caressed her through her dress, felt nothing like this. Hard flesh knocked against his forehead, his tongue encountered haired balls. This was not Marian.
He froze. This had to be some sort of trap. His knife and sword were discarded with his clothes somewhere in the darkness; he’d been careless in his lust. He reached up carefully, his hand encountering a very hard cock. There was a small noise of pleasure from the top of the bed. If this was a trap no-one was trying to kill him yet.
Maybe it was some traveller, using the empty cottage. A traveller who seemed to have been expecting company in his bed but one who didn’t call out greeting or warning. That made no sense either. It might be a harmless encounter, but Robin hadn’t stayed alive by relying on ‘mights’. This felt like a plan gone very wrong, which meant it felt like danger. And where was Marian? Just gone home, her rendezvous point already occupied, or kidnapped? Ravaged? Killed?
His face was hovering over the stranger’s genitals. He could smell the slightly sickly scent of the man’s arousal, feel the warmth of his skin, the wiry hair on his tongue. The man’s cock twitched against his cheek, waiting. A flash of memory.
He’d had a friend, Marc, when he was young. They had been old enough to think about sex far too much, too young to risk the derision of women by approaching them, so they’d made a game of relieving their unfocussed lusts together, harmlessly enough. Until one day they’d been caught with their hands on each other’s cocks and sent to the Captain of the Guard, a man who officially worked for Robin but who had no hesitation in disciplining him on occasionally.
Robin had sullenly watched Marc’s beating, determined that no-one would lay hands on him, the Lord of Locksley. The Captain had sent the snivelling boy and the other men out, then turned to Robin, who found himself facing the first adult erection he’d ever seen. The man had explained to him exactly what men ungodly enough to lie with other men would find themselves doing, and then he’d made Robin do it. It was an effective lesson; Robin had never touched a boy or man since, but he could still remember how it had felt, the smell of the man’s flesh, the heat under his hands, the awkwardness and the taste in his mouth, and how he’d come helplessly in his own breeches straight after the Captain had finished.
The memory usually filled him with revulsion and embarrassment. This time he remembered it differently. For the first time in years he recalled how he’d fantasied, guilty but unable to help it, about the Captain for months afterwards. For the first time ever it occurred to him to wonder about the man’s motives for disciplining a boy that way.
Whoever was in this bed, there was only one sure way to get him off guard long enough for Robin to retrieve his weapons. He ran his tongue up the hard shaft, listening to the man’s breathing changing, grateful for the darkness. He imagined that he could be quite good at this.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Guy’s lip was caught between his teeth as he struggled to keep silent. The woman was a revelation. A natural. Yesterday she’d had no idea how to please him; tonight she knew how to drive him bloody crazy. How did she know to squeeze him just there, and how did she know when to stop? In his experience most women were content just to bring him to climax and be done with it. But she- she was enjoying this, enough to pull him back time and again. Hot- God, yes, but did she have any idea how much it bloody well hurt? If she didn’t let him come soon he’d have to take over.
He lay flat on his back, both hands in her hair. She’d done something different with it; he hadn’t bothered to try to work out what. Prim little Marian, with her mouth round his cock, her hands all over him. To think he’d ever thought her inhibited. If this was what she was like in darkness, he’d have candles barred from their house when they were married.
He was close again, and she was pulling away. Not this time. He leaned forwards a little, closed his fingers in her hair, pulled her head back onto his groin. A fraction of resistance and then she was complying. He came in a huge groan of relief, releasing her and collapsing back on the bed, eyes closed.
She slid backwards, and a gust of cold air came in under the covers as she climbed off the bed. That wasn’t what he wanted. “Marian, dearest,” he murmured, forgetting silence, “Come here and let me kiss you.”
There was a choking sound- not surprising, really, given what he’d just deposited down the poor girl’s throat. Then an extraordinarily heavy weight landed on top of his chest and he grunted involuntarily. And something both familiar and utterly unexpected; the feel of a blade at his throat.
“What?”
“Gisborne?” The voice was incredulous, and instantly recognisable. “Fucking Gisborne. Of course, it would be, with my luck. Hellfire!”
“Hood.” Guy was totally confused. “How did you get in? What have you done with Marian?”
“She’s not here.” The man seemed to be torn between amusement and rage.
Guy shook his head, careful of the blade. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Hood. Marian was here. What have you done with her?”
Hood bent down to the side of the bed, knife still carefully held against Guy’s throat. Guy heard the skittering of his sword being pushed under the bed, then Hood came up with the lantern, uncovered it. The room was small in the light, and there was no-one else in it. The latch was still down.
He’d seen Hood spirit people away before. Still...“What the fuck is going on, Hood?”
“Something I’d like to know. And since I’m the one with the knife at your throat, you’re the one who’s going to be providing some answers.”
Robin grinned down at him, humourless, shifted his weight a little on Guy’s chest, “What are you doing naked in a bed in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, and why were you under the impression that it was that particular throat that you’ve just defiled?”
“I am not discussing my relationship with the Lady Marian with you, outlaw.” Under the impression that? It was Marian. He pushed away thoughts of changed hairstyles, and unexpected proficiency, and the fact that she was quite clearly not here.
“So, your relationship with Marian involved meeting her here, did it? She promised to sleep with you.” Hood’s voice was hollow. He was jealous as hell about Marian.
Guy’s discretion was overridden by his desire to gloat. “Yes. She did.”
Robin shook his head. “She told you that it had to be dark, that you had to be silent.” He looked straight into Guy’s eyes. “She’s an evil bitch, sometimes.”
“Speak of her like that again and I will kill you.” Guy didn’t care that he was in no position to carry out the threat. He wasn’t having her slandered by this bastard.
“You don’t get it, do you, Gisborne? Or you’d be agreeing with me. What do you think I’m doing here?”
Guy shrugged, carefully. “You followed her, or me.”
“She’s not here, remember. And I didn’t follow you. I had a rendezvous. With a woman. In darkness, and silence, Gisborne. Sounds familiar?”
Hood was angry with her, not him. Not because she’d promised to sleep with Guy. Because she’d promised something to Robin, here, tonight, and Robin was also naked....”She set us up!”
“Oh yes.” Robin suddenly grinned. “She did a damn good job of it, too.”
Guy swallowed in sickening realisation. “It’s just been you and me, in here.”
“Yes.” Robin was still grinning.
“What the fuck were you doing, Hood? I thought it was her- you knew it was me.”
“No.” Robin looked down at him. “I didn’t know who it was.”
“You’re in the habit of sucking any cock you can get, Hood? God, that forest has made you more desperate than I imagined.”
“I thought it was her till I got into bed. Then I needed you- whoever it was- out of action for a bit, so I could retrieve my knife. It worked.” Hood twisted the blade slightly. “There’s not much I won’t do to end up on top.”
Guy closed his eyes. Hood. Surely far more humiliating for the other man than for him. Not Marian. She’d sent them here, to meet. Which meant...
He opened them again. “You’ve done something to offend her.”
Hood shook his head, surprised. “No.”
“She didn’t want me dead, I’m sure of that. So she must have intended that I kill you.” He frowned up at the man. “You must have really upset her somehow.”
Hood looked thoughtful at that, then shook his head. “No. You’re thinking like a soldier, Gisborne. She thinks like a woman. I doubt that it even occurred to her that there would be bloodshed. She think’s it’s a jest, that’s all.”
Guy found himself seriously annoyed at that. Dying as a result of a woman’s practical joke was about as pointless an end as he could imagine. He’d been prepared to give her everything, had put his career, occasionally his life, on the line for her over and again. And his reward was to get his throat cut in some squalid little cottage because she thought it would be funny to trick him into bed with his worst enemy.
He glared up at Hood. “This is a bloody stupid way to die.”
Robin nodded. “She won’t forgive herself when they find your body, if that’s any consolation.”
“Not really, no.”
Hood snorted. “More to the point, I doubt that she’ll forgive me either.” He looked down at Guy, considering. “If you get out of this, how many people will you tell about what I did?”
Guy was too proud to lie to save his skin. And Hood had asked for it. “The story will get around, I imagine.” He bared his teeth in a grin. “Robin Hood, cocksucker. It has a ring to it.”
“Yes. It does.” Hood didn’t seem particularly offended. “That’s not going to happen. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Forget it. They’re going to be laughing all over Nottingham.” If he lived. He ought to be toning this down, but he was bloody furious with the whole fucking thing and he wanted to see Hood squirm.
“So.” Robin shifted off his chest, knife still close to his neck. “Get off the bed. Kneel on the floor.”
Guy had always had a horror of the idea of dying on his knees. He kept still.
“You want to live, move.” Hood jerked the knife. Guy did want to live; he just thought it unlikely to happen. But he’d take any chance he could, right now. He pushed the coverlet back, dropped down by the side of the bed; not the side with his sword pushed under the bed, unfortunately.
Robin moved to sit on the bed in front of him, legs wide. Guy glanced down at the man’s erection, shook his head. “No.”
“Then I’ll kill you. You are not telling that story, Gisborne. Either this or a knife across your throat is going to keep you quiet.”
Hood looked absolutely determined. If it had been him...Guy would easily have killed to preserve his own reputation. The alternative that Hood was offering him was more than he might expect, was as good as it was going to get. And in the circumstances Hood wouldn’t be telling anyone, any more than he would be.
He made a small move, indicating compliance, and the man was grinning at him. “You might find you like it.”
“Don’t push it, outlaw.” He bent over. The unexpected prospect of survival had pushed any sense of revulsion away. Instead he found himself slightly intrigued. Slightly interested. What Hood had done to him... how difficult would it be, to drive the other man wild?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Robin was tense at first, half expecting the man to bite him, or to grab his balls. To have one’s enemy just there was not the most relaxing of situations, even with the knife set to the man’s jaw, just under his ear. But Gisborne was behaving, quite remarkably well and with unexpected zeal. He puzzled over that for a while, before remembering the man’s fiercely competitive spirit. Gisborne was trying to outdo Robin’s earlier effort.
That was amusing. And definitely enjoyable. It had been a long while since Robin had experienced anything like this and he didn’t remember it being anywhere near this good. And from Gisborne, of all people.
He found himself thinking somewhat breathlessly about what he’d done earlier, now that he knew that’s who it had been. That had been a little more than expedience, he had to admit. It had done something to him, feeling the man below him respond, and then, all the time he’d been threatening Gisborne, he’d had lust nagging at him. He hadn’t lied; he needed to neutralise Guy’s threat of exposure, if he was to let the man go, but mostly he’d just wanted to come down the man’s throat, the way Guy had down his.
That was going to happen, pretty soon. He looked down, resisting the impulse to dig his nails into the wide, smooth shoulders, caught a glimpse past the dark head, paused, startled. That he hadn’t expected. That changed things.
Robin stretched out his free hand to Guy’s head, slid his hand into black hair, pulled backwards, not hard. “Get up.” He stood as well, face to face with the slightly disgruntled man. knife still ready.
“Got a problem?” Guy’s voice was sour.
“Quite the opposite.” Robin moved his free hand downwards, brushed against Guy’s groin, feeling the heat, the renewed hardness. “This is having quite an effect on you, isn’t it?”
“So?” Gisborne sounded ready to kill him. Robin chose his words carefully. Humiliating Gisborne was one of his favourite games, but this time it could be positively counterproductive.
“So I have a proposition.”
Guy’s expression didn’t change. He wasn’t going to make this easy, then.
“Neither of us is going to tell anyone what happened here tonight.” Gisborne nodded slightly.
Robin took a breath. “We’ve both tasted cock tonight. And it turns out that we’ve both liked it.” Guy didn’t react.
“We both came here for a fuck. We’re both hard. There’s a bed, and the rest of the night ahead. Seems a pity to waste it. There are a few things I’d like to try.“
It wasn’t much of a risk. Gisborne wasn’t going to tell anyone that Robin propositioned him while Guy was licking his balls. Robin could almost see the same thoughts going through the man’s head until Guy closed his expression down.
“Not,” Guy said, coldly, “with a knife at my throat.”
That was fair enough. Robin dropped the knife, kicked it well under the bed, heard it clash against the sword under there. Guy was unarmed; he could wrestle the man if necessary.
Guy was watching him. “You’ve done this before?”
“No.”
“Nor have I.” The man grinned, unexpectedly cheerful. “But I’ve got some ideas. You’d better not be planning on getting any sleep tonight.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Wake up.”
That voice had Robin desperately struggling into alertness. He’d fallen asleep somehow... God, with Gisborne in the room! A wonder he’d woken at all. He was soaked in chilled sweat; he shivered.
The lantern was long since dead. The wind and rain howled outside; inside was perfect darkness. Rough hands rolled him onto his back, ran deliberately over his crotch.
“Hell, Gisborne,” he muttered, “Leave it. I’m done.” Several times over and in pretty much every way they could think of. He was never going to be able to look the man in the face again without remembering just how Guy had reacted to some of his experimenting. Without remembering his own uninhibited responses.
“You’re not done yet.” A hot mouth pulled at him and he began to think that, unlikely as it seemed, the man might be right.
A grunt of satisfaction from the end of the bed at his reaction. He smiled. “Bloody insatiable. So what were you planning to do with me this time, Gisborne?”
The man pulled himself up the bed on top of Robin. “Spread your fucking legs and you’ll find out.”
Face to face? Did that work? What the hell; try it and see. It turned out that it did, with a little rearranging. And then Gisborne was thrusting deep, swearing cheerfully at Robin, and Robin was snarling at him to go harder, and it was all entirely satisfactory for both of them.
But Robin didn’t let himself fall asleep again.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As the first light started to creep into the sky, Marian realised that she had, very possibly, done an unwise thing.
Guy hadn’t returned, to his chambers or to hers. She went down to the stables, lied her way past the guard and rode at a fast canter to Robin’s camp. A sleepy Djaq on watch shook her head. Robin had said he’d be gone until morning. It was barely dawn. Did Marian want to wait?
Marian mumbled an excuse, turned the horse’s head south.
The cottage was quiet and dark. She dismounted, knocked on the door. Nothing; she pushed it open.
There was someone on the bed. Face down, naked, and unnaturally still. She stepped forward. “Robin?”
A hand seized her arm. Guy pulled her around to face him. He was unclothed and looking darkly pleased with himself. She tried to pull away.
“Robin?” She turned her head. The body on the bed hadn’t moved; didn’t look as if it was ever going to. “You killed him!”
Guy smiled. “Credit where it’s due. I merely had to stab him. It was you who delivered him to me, naked and unsuspecting.” He pulled her into an embrace, mouth on hers, then murmured into her hair.
“I couldn’t imagine a better betrothal gift. You are utterly delightful.”
She pushed him away, shock and outrage pounding through her. Robin was dead. And Guy thought she’d done it deliberately.
“We are not betrothed!”
Guy smiled. “We will be, shortly. That’s why you came, after all- a little late but I don’t mind that. We have all day, if necessary.” He bent down to kiss her again. “By the time we leave that bed we’ll be as betrothed as it’s possible to get. Probably more than once. Then we can start planning the wedding.”
He pulled her arm gently towards the bed. With that white body lying still, marked red with raw weals across the shoulders. She screamed. Guy didn’t let go.
“My apologies. Inconsiderate of me. I’ll just roll that onto the floor. He didn’t bleed much- we shouldn’t need to change the sheets.”
She hit him over the face. “Murderous bastard! Leave me alone!”
He let her go, frowned in surprise. “You mean you don’t want to?”
Then he grinned. “Thank Christ for that. I’m absolutely shagged out. I’ll go back home and get some sleep.” He started to put his clothes on. She stared at him, confused.
There was a noise from behind her and she turned. Robin was sitting on the bed.
“Oh God, Robin!” She rushed towards him and he opened his arms to embrace her.
“I thought you were dead!”
“It’s never happened yet.” He winced, pulled her arms gently away from his shoulders. “Ouch! Careful, sorry. I’m glad you came, at last. I’ve been looking forward to it. If you want a little privacy to undress I can make Gisborne leave. The man can be remarkably insensitive, sometimes.” His flashed grin across to Guy was strangely disturbing.
“What? No! No undressing!”
“Sure?” He shrugged. “Probably just as well. It’s been a very arduous night. Maybe some other time, then.” He let go of her, dropped to the edge of the bed, lay down to fish around under it.
“I believe this is yours?” He tossed Guy his sword, hilt first. Guy caught it with a nod, sheathed it. “And my knife.” He stood up, started to pull on his breeches.
She stood like a fool in the middle of the room. Both men were dressing without paying her the slightest attention. It was possibly the most embarrassing, infuriating thing that had ever happened to her. It belatedly dawned on her that this was their payback for her little jest, but that didn’t make it any easier. And Robin knew about Guy, and Guy knew about Robin, and why weren’t they fighting over it... over her?
Guy turned to her, still doing up his buckles. “Can I escort you back to the castle, Lady Marian?”
“No!” She never wanted to see him again.
Robin called over, “There will no doubt be some breakfast at the camp, if you’re hungry.”
“No!” She didn’t want to see Robin either. Or any of the outlaws. Or anyone.
As Robin moved towards the door, Guy stepped in front of it. Both men had their hands on their sword hilts. Apprehension flooded her. Now they were going to fight. For her. She needed to distract Guy somehow, save Robin. She moved towards the door. Neither of them glanced at her.
Guy’s voice was dark, “Next time we meet, you had better be prepared to run, or fight.”
Robin laughed at that. “Next time we meet, you had better hang onto your purse.” Marian saw Guy’s mouth twist in what looked like a reluctant smile. Astonishingly, he stepped to one side, opened the door.
Robin turned to her then, blew her a kiss. “See you soon.” And he left.
That was it? Neither of them had even mentioned her.
Guy looked outside.
‘Your mare has strayed, Marian. I’ll catch it, then we should return together to the castle. I think you’ll find less awkward questions arise, that way.”
No-one would ask awkward questions when she rode in with Guy after a night out. They’d think they already knew the answers. Marian saw in his smug smile that he knew that, was counting on it. And Robin had walked away....
A twinge of conscience reminded her that she’d started this. She brushed it away. Neither of them would get away with this. Neither of them. Let them think she’d learned her lesson... She smiled warmly at Guy. “Thank you.I’d be delighted to have your company.”
She could wait.
THE END
Author: Unsentimental Fool
Fandom: BBC Robin Hood
Pairing: Guy/Marian/Robin
Rating: R
Word Count: 5,000
Summary: Marian plays a small jest on her suitors.
Notes/Warnings: Het and slash, R for language and sex. Dub-con.
Robin matched his slowing breathing to hers. She smiled at him, almost purring with satisfaction, then glanced around. They were still alone, of course. The others knew better than to come anywhere near this particular clearing while Marian was visiting him in Sherwood.
“Happy?” she asked cheerfully. Well, yes. And no. Robin pushed at his breeches, trying to get comfortable. He hadn’t soiled his clothing since adolescence; it made him feel tawdry, childish. God, it was marvellous to have the woman that he loved bringing him off, giving her pleasure in return, but...
“Marian,” He tried to sound encouraging rather than just annoyed. Because it really had been nice.
“This would be even nicer with a few less clothes in the way.” He shifted the cold, sticky cloth away from himself. “Just let me show you. I could be far more delicate.”
She could be far less delicate. The thought of her warm hands on his bare skin was making him shiver.
“You know that you can trust me to control myself. We don’t need to do anything that you don’t want to.”
This time, instead of laughing, she looked at him, almost serious. His heart leaped and he fought to keep his smile loving and gentle.
“Not here.” She looked around again. “Not outside. I know a place. Tomorrow night, after dark. But you have to promise me some things....”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Guy lived for these moments, which in his more rational moments he knew was a stupid and dangerous way to feel about a woman. Even this woman. He had an arm round her waist, a hand buried in her hair and he had pulled her close to kiss her. She was kissing him back with enthusiasm, tongue warm, breasts pressing against his doublet, and his groin was burning with need, hard against her.
She felt that, sure enough. She shifted, pressed closer and he could feel her amusement. Damn the woman! She didn’t act like a frightened virgin, but she had always refused to give him more.
This afternoon, though, it seemed as if she might be repenting her harshness. He’d pulled her willingly enough into an empty room, pushed the door closed- no lock on this one, unfortunately, but he had his back against the door. They couldn’t be disturbed. Her hands moved downwards, started to stroke the bulge through his leather.
He wasn’t making do with that. He could barely feel it. Guy let go of her long enough to unfasten his trousers, jerk them down roughly over his hips, capture her fluttering hands and place them firmly on his bare cock, hold them there while he kissed her again.
Marian tried to pull away, gave up after no more than a token effort. Her hands started to explore. Guy was rather pleased to find that she had no idea of what she was doing. He wanted to be the first she’d touched. He certainly intended to be the last. She’d do this in their marriage bed...he sometimes wondered if he’d ever bear to leave it, with her there.
He let her experiment for a while; it amused him, aroused him further. Then he showed her, hands over hers. When she had got the idea he let go, reached out for the hem of her dress, started pulling it up.
She dragged her mouth away from his. “Not here,” and she let go of him to push his hands away. He had better things to do than to argue, like get those hot little hands back where they belonged, like tip his head back and groan in delight. He had the presence of mind, just, to cup his own hand at the last moment. Some inexperienced women were put off by the mess; he didn’t want to risk that, right now. Plenty of time for introducing her to all sorts of things, later.
Guy kissed Marian tenderly, appreciatively, stretching his hand to one side unobtrusively. The servants would clean the tapestry, soon enough.
“You said ‘not here,’” he said, hopefully. “We could use my quarters, next time.”
She looked up at him, eyes bright. God, she was aching for it! “Not in the castle,” she said, firmly. “I know a place. But there are rules...”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Guy had arrived at the deserted and isolated cottage just after dark. “No light,” she’d said, but he had more sense than that. The covered lantern on the floor by the big bed gave off the faintest glow, not enough to see the shape of the room by.
He undressed, climbed under the covers- someone had put on clean sheets, he was pleased to see- set his sword on the floor, within easy reach. This was the edge of Sherwood. Nothing but the promise of Marian would have got him out here after dark on his own.
It wasn’t a long wait. He heard the door open, saw the faintest outline of a black shadow against the near black night, heard the latch close. She’d asked for silence; he bit down his greeting. The rustling as she undressed was the sweetest sound that he’d heard for a long time. He’d have loved to strip her himself, but the idea of her naked body climbing into the bed next to him was just as good; he ran his hand up and down his taut cock, toes curling in anticipation. How he was going to hold back he didn’t know; maybe as soon as she touched him he’d just roll her on her back and fuck her. Maybe that’s what she wanted. Surely it was. The dark, the silence; she didn’t want to be courted. She just wanted him to take her; he let out a small involuntary moan.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Robin could see virtually nothing. The edge of the bed, where a darkened lantern stood underneath. The slightest shape in the darkness- was that Marian sitting up waiting for him? He paused, listening. Yes, breathing from the bed. Rapid breathing, though not loud. Was she nervous? That would explain the request for darkness, for quiet. He was hot and he was eager but he could be gentle. They had all night. Pleasure her first, then she’d let him make love to her in the way he wanted.
Naked, he stepped towards the bed, grinned. The King of Sherwood always made a dramatic entrance. He pulled the blankets up from the bottom of the bed, started crawling under the covers. Stroked the beautifully muscular legs- all that horseriding- laughed to himself as they parted eagerly. He ran his tongue up the inside of her thigh, feeling her shiver in pleasure, then moved to bury his face in her groin.
For a moment Robin thought that he’d uncovered a shocking secret. Then he remembered that he’d caressed her through her dress, felt nothing like this. Hard flesh knocked against his forehead, his tongue encountered haired balls. This was not Marian.
He froze. This had to be some sort of trap. His knife and sword were discarded with his clothes somewhere in the darkness; he’d been careless in his lust. He reached up carefully, his hand encountering a very hard cock. There was a small noise of pleasure from the top of the bed. If this was a trap no-one was trying to kill him yet.
Maybe it was some traveller, using the empty cottage. A traveller who seemed to have been expecting company in his bed but one who didn’t call out greeting or warning. That made no sense either. It might be a harmless encounter, but Robin hadn’t stayed alive by relying on ‘mights’. This felt like a plan gone very wrong, which meant it felt like danger. And where was Marian? Just gone home, her rendezvous point already occupied, or kidnapped? Ravaged? Killed?
His face was hovering over the stranger’s genitals. He could smell the slightly sickly scent of the man’s arousal, feel the warmth of his skin, the wiry hair on his tongue. The man’s cock twitched against his cheek, waiting. A flash of memory.
He’d had a friend, Marc, when he was young. They had been old enough to think about sex far too much, too young to risk the derision of women by approaching them, so they’d made a game of relieving their unfocussed lusts together, harmlessly enough. Until one day they’d been caught with their hands on each other’s cocks and sent to the Captain of the Guard, a man who officially worked for Robin but who had no hesitation in disciplining him on occasionally.
Robin had sullenly watched Marc’s beating, determined that no-one would lay hands on him, the Lord of Locksley. The Captain had sent the snivelling boy and the other men out, then turned to Robin, who found himself facing the first adult erection he’d ever seen. The man had explained to him exactly what men ungodly enough to lie with other men would find themselves doing, and then he’d made Robin do it. It was an effective lesson; Robin had never touched a boy or man since, but he could still remember how it had felt, the smell of the man’s flesh, the heat under his hands, the awkwardness and the taste in his mouth, and how he’d come helplessly in his own breeches straight after the Captain had finished.
The memory usually filled him with revulsion and embarrassment. This time he remembered it differently. For the first time in years he recalled how he’d fantasied, guilty but unable to help it, about the Captain for months afterwards. For the first time ever it occurred to him to wonder about the man’s motives for disciplining a boy that way.
Whoever was in this bed, there was only one sure way to get him off guard long enough for Robin to retrieve his weapons. He ran his tongue up the hard shaft, listening to the man’s breathing changing, grateful for the darkness. He imagined that he could be quite good at this.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Guy’s lip was caught between his teeth as he struggled to keep silent. The woman was a revelation. A natural. Yesterday she’d had no idea how to please him; tonight she knew how to drive him bloody crazy. How did she know to squeeze him just there, and how did she know when to stop? In his experience most women were content just to bring him to climax and be done with it. But she- she was enjoying this, enough to pull him back time and again. Hot- God, yes, but did she have any idea how much it bloody well hurt? If she didn’t let him come soon he’d have to take over.
He lay flat on his back, both hands in her hair. She’d done something different with it; he hadn’t bothered to try to work out what. Prim little Marian, with her mouth round his cock, her hands all over him. To think he’d ever thought her inhibited. If this was what she was like in darkness, he’d have candles barred from their house when they were married.
He was close again, and she was pulling away. Not this time. He leaned forwards a little, closed his fingers in her hair, pulled her head back onto his groin. A fraction of resistance and then she was complying. He came in a huge groan of relief, releasing her and collapsing back on the bed, eyes closed.
She slid backwards, and a gust of cold air came in under the covers as she climbed off the bed. That wasn’t what he wanted. “Marian, dearest,” he murmured, forgetting silence, “Come here and let me kiss you.”
There was a choking sound- not surprising, really, given what he’d just deposited down the poor girl’s throat. Then an extraordinarily heavy weight landed on top of his chest and he grunted involuntarily. And something both familiar and utterly unexpected; the feel of a blade at his throat.
“What?”
“Gisborne?” The voice was incredulous, and instantly recognisable. “Fucking Gisborne. Of course, it would be, with my luck. Hellfire!”
“Hood.” Guy was totally confused. “How did you get in? What have you done with Marian?”
“She’s not here.” The man seemed to be torn between amusement and rage.
Guy shook his head, careful of the blade. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Hood. Marian was here. What have you done with her?”
Hood bent down to the side of the bed, knife still carefully held against Guy’s throat. Guy heard the skittering of his sword being pushed under the bed, then Hood came up with the lantern, uncovered it. The room was small in the light, and there was no-one else in it. The latch was still down.
He’d seen Hood spirit people away before. Still...“What the fuck is going on, Hood?”
“Something I’d like to know. And since I’m the one with the knife at your throat, you’re the one who’s going to be providing some answers.”
Robin grinned down at him, humourless, shifted his weight a little on Guy’s chest, “What are you doing naked in a bed in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, and why were you under the impression that it was that particular throat that you’ve just defiled?”
“I am not discussing my relationship with the Lady Marian with you, outlaw.” Under the impression that? It was Marian. He pushed away thoughts of changed hairstyles, and unexpected proficiency, and the fact that she was quite clearly not here.
“So, your relationship with Marian involved meeting her here, did it? She promised to sleep with you.” Hood’s voice was hollow. He was jealous as hell about Marian.
Guy’s discretion was overridden by his desire to gloat. “Yes. She did.”
Robin shook his head. “She told you that it had to be dark, that you had to be silent.” He looked straight into Guy’s eyes. “She’s an evil bitch, sometimes.”
“Speak of her like that again and I will kill you.” Guy didn’t care that he was in no position to carry out the threat. He wasn’t having her slandered by this bastard.
“You don’t get it, do you, Gisborne? Or you’d be agreeing with me. What do you think I’m doing here?”
Guy shrugged, carefully. “You followed her, or me.”
“She’s not here, remember. And I didn’t follow you. I had a rendezvous. With a woman. In darkness, and silence, Gisborne. Sounds familiar?”
Hood was angry with her, not him. Not because she’d promised to sleep with Guy. Because she’d promised something to Robin, here, tonight, and Robin was also naked....”She set us up!”
“Oh yes.” Robin suddenly grinned. “She did a damn good job of it, too.”
Guy swallowed in sickening realisation. “It’s just been you and me, in here.”
“Yes.” Robin was still grinning.
“What the fuck were you doing, Hood? I thought it was her- you knew it was me.”
“No.” Robin looked down at him. “I didn’t know who it was.”
“You’re in the habit of sucking any cock you can get, Hood? God, that forest has made you more desperate than I imagined.”
“I thought it was her till I got into bed. Then I needed you- whoever it was- out of action for a bit, so I could retrieve my knife. It worked.” Hood twisted the blade slightly. “There’s not much I won’t do to end up on top.”
Guy closed his eyes. Hood. Surely far more humiliating for the other man than for him. Not Marian. She’d sent them here, to meet. Which meant...
He opened them again. “You’ve done something to offend her.”
Hood shook his head, surprised. “No.”
“She didn’t want me dead, I’m sure of that. So she must have intended that I kill you.” He frowned up at the man. “You must have really upset her somehow.”
Hood looked thoughtful at that, then shook his head. “No. You’re thinking like a soldier, Gisborne. She thinks like a woman. I doubt that it even occurred to her that there would be bloodshed. She think’s it’s a jest, that’s all.”
Guy found himself seriously annoyed at that. Dying as a result of a woman’s practical joke was about as pointless an end as he could imagine. He’d been prepared to give her everything, had put his career, occasionally his life, on the line for her over and again. And his reward was to get his throat cut in some squalid little cottage because she thought it would be funny to trick him into bed with his worst enemy.
He glared up at Hood. “This is a bloody stupid way to die.”
Robin nodded. “She won’t forgive herself when they find your body, if that’s any consolation.”
“Not really, no.”
Hood snorted. “More to the point, I doubt that she’ll forgive me either.” He looked down at Guy, considering. “If you get out of this, how many people will you tell about what I did?”
Guy was too proud to lie to save his skin. And Hood had asked for it. “The story will get around, I imagine.” He bared his teeth in a grin. “Robin Hood, cocksucker. It has a ring to it.”
“Yes. It does.” Hood didn’t seem particularly offended. “That’s not going to happen. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Forget it. They’re going to be laughing all over Nottingham.” If he lived. He ought to be toning this down, but he was bloody furious with the whole fucking thing and he wanted to see Hood squirm.
“So.” Robin shifted off his chest, knife still close to his neck. “Get off the bed. Kneel on the floor.”
Guy had always had a horror of the idea of dying on his knees. He kept still.
“You want to live, move.” Hood jerked the knife. Guy did want to live; he just thought it unlikely to happen. But he’d take any chance he could, right now. He pushed the coverlet back, dropped down by the side of the bed; not the side with his sword pushed under the bed, unfortunately.
Robin moved to sit on the bed in front of him, legs wide. Guy glanced down at the man’s erection, shook his head. “No.”
“Then I’ll kill you. You are not telling that story, Gisborne. Either this or a knife across your throat is going to keep you quiet.”
Hood looked absolutely determined. If it had been him...Guy would easily have killed to preserve his own reputation. The alternative that Hood was offering him was more than he might expect, was as good as it was going to get. And in the circumstances Hood wouldn’t be telling anyone, any more than he would be.
He made a small move, indicating compliance, and the man was grinning at him. “You might find you like it.”
“Don’t push it, outlaw.” He bent over. The unexpected prospect of survival had pushed any sense of revulsion away. Instead he found himself slightly intrigued. Slightly interested. What Hood had done to him... how difficult would it be, to drive the other man wild?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Robin was tense at first, half expecting the man to bite him, or to grab his balls. To have one’s enemy just there was not the most relaxing of situations, even with the knife set to the man’s jaw, just under his ear. But Gisborne was behaving, quite remarkably well and with unexpected zeal. He puzzled over that for a while, before remembering the man’s fiercely competitive spirit. Gisborne was trying to outdo Robin’s earlier effort.
That was amusing. And definitely enjoyable. It had been a long while since Robin had experienced anything like this and he didn’t remember it being anywhere near this good. And from Gisborne, of all people.
He found himself thinking somewhat breathlessly about what he’d done earlier, now that he knew that’s who it had been. That had been a little more than expedience, he had to admit. It had done something to him, feeling the man below him respond, and then, all the time he’d been threatening Gisborne, he’d had lust nagging at him. He hadn’t lied; he needed to neutralise Guy’s threat of exposure, if he was to let the man go, but mostly he’d just wanted to come down the man’s throat, the way Guy had down his.
That was going to happen, pretty soon. He looked down, resisting the impulse to dig his nails into the wide, smooth shoulders, caught a glimpse past the dark head, paused, startled. That he hadn’t expected. That changed things.
Robin stretched out his free hand to Guy’s head, slid his hand into black hair, pulled backwards, not hard. “Get up.” He stood as well, face to face with the slightly disgruntled man. knife still ready.
“Got a problem?” Guy’s voice was sour.
“Quite the opposite.” Robin moved his free hand downwards, brushed against Guy’s groin, feeling the heat, the renewed hardness. “This is having quite an effect on you, isn’t it?”
“So?” Gisborne sounded ready to kill him. Robin chose his words carefully. Humiliating Gisborne was one of his favourite games, but this time it could be positively counterproductive.
“So I have a proposition.”
Guy’s expression didn’t change. He wasn’t going to make this easy, then.
“Neither of us is going to tell anyone what happened here tonight.” Gisborne nodded slightly.
Robin took a breath. “We’ve both tasted cock tonight. And it turns out that we’ve both liked it.” Guy didn’t react.
“We both came here for a fuck. We’re both hard. There’s a bed, and the rest of the night ahead. Seems a pity to waste it. There are a few things I’d like to try.“
It wasn’t much of a risk. Gisborne wasn’t going to tell anyone that Robin propositioned him while Guy was licking his balls. Robin could almost see the same thoughts going through the man’s head until Guy closed his expression down.
“Not,” Guy said, coldly, “with a knife at my throat.”
That was fair enough. Robin dropped the knife, kicked it well under the bed, heard it clash against the sword under there. Guy was unarmed; he could wrestle the man if necessary.
Guy was watching him. “You’ve done this before?”
“No.”
“Nor have I.” The man grinned, unexpectedly cheerful. “But I’ve got some ideas. You’d better not be planning on getting any sleep tonight.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Wake up.”
That voice had Robin desperately struggling into alertness. He’d fallen asleep somehow... God, with Gisborne in the room! A wonder he’d woken at all. He was soaked in chilled sweat; he shivered.
The lantern was long since dead. The wind and rain howled outside; inside was perfect darkness. Rough hands rolled him onto his back, ran deliberately over his crotch.
“Hell, Gisborne,” he muttered, “Leave it. I’m done.” Several times over and in pretty much every way they could think of. He was never going to be able to look the man in the face again without remembering just how Guy had reacted to some of his experimenting. Without remembering his own uninhibited responses.
“You’re not done yet.” A hot mouth pulled at him and he began to think that, unlikely as it seemed, the man might be right.
A grunt of satisfaction from the end of the bed at his reaction. He smiled. “Bloody insatiable. So what were you planning to do with me this time, Gisborne?”
The man pulled himself up the bed on top of Robin. “Spread your fucking legs and you’ll find out.”
Face to face? Did that work? What the hell; try it and see. It turned out that it did, with a little rearranging. And then Gisborne was thrusting deep, swearing cheerfully at Robin, and Robin was snarling at him to go harder, and it was all entirely satisfactory for both of them.
But Robin didn’t let himself fall asleep again.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As the first light started to creep into the sky, Marian realised that she had, very possibly, done an unwise thing.
Guy hadn’t returned, to his chambers or to hers. She went down to the stables, lied her way past the guard and rode at a fast canter to Robin’s camp. A sleepy Djaq on watch shook her head. Robin had said he’d be gone until morning. It was barely dawn. Did Marian want to wait?
Marian mumbled an excuse, turned the horse’s head south.
The cottage was quiet and dark. She dismounted, knocked on the door. Nothing; she pushed it open.
There was someone on the bed. Face down, naked, and unnaturally still. She stepped forward. “Robin?”
A hand seized her arm. Guy pulled her around to face him. He was unclothed and looking darkly pleased with himself. She tried to pull away.
“Robin?” She turned her head. The body on the bed hadn’t moved; didn’t look as if it was ever going to. “You killed him!”
Guy smiled. “Credit where it’s due. I merely had to stab him. It was you who delivered him to me, naked and unsuspecting.” He pulled her into an embrace, mouth on hers, then murmured into her hair.
“I couldn’t imagine a better betrothal gift. You are utterly delightful.”
She pushed him away, shock and outrage pounding through her. Robin was dead. And Guy thought she’d done it deliberately.
“We are not betrothed!”
Guy smiled. “We will be, shortly. That’s why you came, after all- a little late but I don’t mind that. We have all day, if necessary.” He bent down to kiss her again. “By the time we leave that bed we’ll be as betrothed as it’s possible to get. Probably more than once. Then we can start planning the wedding.”
He pulled her arm gently towards the bed. With that white body lying still, marked red with raw weals across the shoulders. She screamed. Guy didn’t let go.
“My apologies. Inconsiderate of me. I’ll just roll that onto the floor. He didn’t bleed much- we shouldn’t need to change the sheets.”
She hit him over the face. “Murderous bastard! Leave me alone!”
He let her go, frowned in surprise. “You mean you don’t want to?”
Then he grinned. “Thank Christ for that. I’m absolutely shagged out. I’ll go back home and get some sleep.” He started to put his clothes on. She stared at him, confused.
There was a noise from behind her and she turned. Robin was sitting on the bed.
“Oh God, Robin!” She rushed towards him and he opened his arms to embrace her.
“I thought you were dead!”
“It’s never happened yet.” He winced, pulled her arms gently away from his shoulders. “Ouch! Careful, sorry. I’m glad you came, at last. I’ve been looking forward to it. If you want a little privacy to undress I can make Gisborne leave. The man can be remarkably insensitive, sometimes.” His flashed grin across to Guy was strangely disturbing.
“What? No! No undressing!”
“Sure?” He shrugged. “Probably just as well. It’s been a very arduous night. Maybe some other time, then.” He let go of her, dropped to the edge of the bed, lay down to fish around under it.
“I believe this is yours?” He tossed Guy his sword, hilt first. Guy caught it with a nod, sheathed it. “And my knife.” He stood up, started to pull on his breeches.
She stood like a fool in the middle of the room. Both men were dressing without paying her the slightest attention. It was possibly the most embarrassing, infuriating thing that had ever happened to her. It belatedly dawned on her that this was their payback for her little jest, but that didn’t make it any easier. And Robin knew about Guy, and Guy knew about Robin, and why weren’t they fighting over it... over her?
Guy turned to her, still doing up his buckles. “Can I escort you back to the castle, Lady Marian?”
“No!” She never wanted to see him again.
Robin called over, “There will no doubt be some breakfast at the camp, if you’re hungry.”
“No!” She didn’t want to see Robin either. Or any of the outlaws. Or anyone.
As Robin moved towards the door, Guy stepped in front of it. Both men had their hands on their sword hilts. Apprehension flooded her. Now they were going to fight. For her. She needed to distract Guy somehow, save Robin. She moved towards the door. Neither of them glanced at her.
Guy’s voice was dark, “Next time we meet, you had better be prepared to run, or fight.”
Robin laughed at that. “Next time we meet, you had better hang onto your purse.” Marian saw Guy’s mouth twist in what looked like a reluctant smile. Astonishingly, he stepped to one side, opened the door.
Robin turned to her then, blew her a kiss. “See you soon.” And he left.
That was it? Neither of them had even mentioned her.
Guy looked outside.
‘Your mare has strayed, Marian. I’ll catch it, then we should return together to the castle. I think you’ll find less awkward questions arise, that way.”
No-one would ask awkward questions when she rode in with Guy after a night out. They’d think they already knew the answers. Marian saw in his smug smile that he knew that, was counting on it. And Robin had walked away....
A twinge of conscience reminded her that she’d started this. She brushed it away. Neither of them would get away with this. Neither of them. Let them think she’d learned her lesson... She smiled warmly at Guy. “Thank you.I’d be delighted to have your company.”
She could wait.
THE END