yamiswift

4. Prepositioning

It had been several weeks since Guy had let Robin leave and life had, almost, got back to normal in Nottingham, or as normal as it could be with the Sherriff in power. Guy had had few run ins with the outlaw since he had ‘escaped’ with his men, but he still found himself thinking of the cheeky grin and wink that Robin had sent his way before he left.

Shaking his head in a vain attempt at dissipating such thoughts Guy tried to turn his attention back to the sheriffs’ council; the crazy old man was trying to think of a way to get another traitorous letter to Prince John without the outlaws, specifically Hood getting hold of it.

“A diversion…” Guy muttered, thoughts still drifting round his head.

“Gisbourne?” the Sherriff asked looking bemused “could it be that you’re actually developing intelligent thought? That’s a splendid idea!”

“Sir?”

“Tut tut Gisbourne keep up. We send some guards in a tax cart, make it obvious, and Hood and all his outlaw friends keep themselves busy there and my messenger can get by on the lower road.” The Sherriff seemed delighted at this ‘brilliant’ scheme; smiling maliciously he added a final cutting comment,

“We must put some money in there Gisbourne, ten pieces of silver should be enough don’t you think?”

Guy blanched; the last comment was more than he could take. Uttering a swift assent and bowing slightly to the Sherriff he fled the hall.

As soon as he was free from the stone confines of the castle Guy rode swiftly back to Locksley. Dismounting outside the manor he vented his rage, smashing a fist into one of old oak beams. Not feeling the pain in his hand, he sank to his knees, biting his lip as he tried to push back the flood of memories that rushed in on him. He knelt there trembling for a few moments, frustrated that such an old source of pain could still affect him so and bitter at the Sherriff for raking up old wounds.

After a few more minutes Guy stood, still trying to stop himself shaking. Yelling at the servants who had stopped work to stare at him, he stormed into the house. On entering his room, he stood for a few seconds, staring at the other man who was grinning at him with a mischievous smile.

“Hood!” Guy exclaimed, “why are you here?”

“hush” Robin smirked, standing and closing the gap between him and Guy and almost backing the other man against the wall, “you don’t want any guards arresting me right now. I have a preposition for you…”

Robin wasn’t exactly sure why he was offering Guy what he planned, maybe, he considered, it was because he wanted to see what the other man would do, maybe it was something more. At any rate the rest of the Gang wouldn’t be pleased, he was dashing into something recklessly again, with no idea of what would happen.

“A preposition?” Guy questioned, “what gives you reason to think I’d want anything you have to offer Hood?”

“…Nor anything like?” Robin quoted teasingly. This phrase had the desired effect; Guy flushed crimson, glared at Robin, but was rendered temporarily speechless,

“what- but…how did you-?” he stammered blushing even harder. Eventually he seemed to regain the function for coherent speech and began to question Robin again,

“What do you want from me?” he asked warily.

“Information. I need to know what the Sherriff’s planning; I need evidence against him for when the king returns. You’re his right-hand man, who better to ask?” Robin replied honestly, trying to gauge Guy’s reaction.

“And what are you offering in return?” Guy continued in a slightly lower voice that made Robin’s skin tingle to hear it.

“Anything.” Robin said bluntly, still trying to second guess what Guy would do next.

“And if I asked for this?” Guy whispered, leaning closer and bringing his lips down onto Robin’s in a simple chaste kiss, which lasted for a moment before he pulled away again, looking both terrified and questioning.

“That’s all?” Robin asked, teasing again, “I would have thought you’d want more than that…”

Guy gulped and blushed, simply nodding an ascent, unable to speak. Robin laughed at this nervousness and stepped forward, forcing Guy to step back up against the wall. Pushing his lips against Guy’s Robin found himself enjoying this submissive side to the other man. Guy’s lips parted long enough for Robin to take advantage and put his tongue to better use than negotiating. Guy gripped Robin’s shoulders, put his feet a little further apart and pulled Robin even closer. Robin broke the kiss and, leaving Guy gasping for oxygen, started trailing kisses across his jaw and down his neck.

A shout from outside brought both men sharply back to reality, the Sherriff was yelling impatiently to Guy, ordering him to drill the guards or something equally trivial. Guy turned to Robin who was sitting on the window ledge looking back questioningly.

“Yes,” Guy whispered, “I’ll do it. Now go before the Sherriff gets up here!”

2. Not love, nor anything like.

Riding into Locksley with the outlaw slumped before him in the saddle Guy attracted a number of bemused looks from the villagers, who were far more used to seeing the pair brawling. Lifting the outlaw down into his arms Guy started a little at seeing how very white Robin had become. He had ridden back through the forest as fast as he’d dared but Robin had still lost a large quantity of blood, Guy could feel it soaking into the leather of his jacket.

Guy strode into the manor yelling for a physician, drawing more confused looks from the servants of the house, unsure as to how to react to their master’s change in attitude towards his rival. Eventually however help was called for and a physician from Nottingham was to arrive within the hour.

Depositing Robin on the bed in his room, Guy dragged a stool over next to the bed and sat down staring worriedly at the outlaw lying prone atop the sheets. Unable to sit still with worry Guy stood abruptly and began pacing the small room, after a short while Guy came to sudden halt. Inwardly berating himself for worrying so much over Hood he convinced himself to leave the room, if the outlaw disappeared he reasoned, he would have one less problem to think about. Guy’s hand was almost at the doorknob when Robin suddenly shifted in his stupor and uttered a weak groan, effectively halting Guy where he stood and causing the colour to rise in his face once more. Thankfully at that moment the physician arrived at the door of the manor, reliving Guy of his embarrassment, and also bringing the much needed medical aid.

Feigning indifference now that Robin was in capable hands Guy walked off to change his jacket, still smeared with blood. After failing to find another jacket and yelling at the servants for their incompetence Guy stormed upstairs and, giving up all pretence of indifference, slumped down against the wall opposite the door to his room and rested his head on his knees. It was too much to think about, why was he worrying so much over his rival, they were simply supposed to insult each other, fight and ride off; Robin to the woods and he to Locksley. If that was the case then why was he finding himself unable to look the outlaw in the face and blushing whenever he looked back. And why, for all love, did he worry whenever he caught him doing anything even vaguely dangerous.

“It’s not love,” Guy groaned, hitting his head against his knees, “nor anything like.”

Moments later the physician emerged from the room where Robin lay, if he was surprised by finding the notorious Sir Guy huddled up on the floor outside the room, he did well at not showing it. Standing, Guy pressed some coins into the man’s hand and bid him good day, managing at the same time to keep up some show of dignity by not dashing into the room and demanding to know how Robin would fare.

After the physician had gone Guy hesitantly entered the bedroom, wary of the reaction he would get from the outlaw and unsure as to how he himself should react. Robin however was sleeping, he still looked pale but his wound was neatly dressed and no blood was soaking through, Guy, not thinking of anything else to do sat down on the stool again to wait until the outlaw awoke.

On waking Robin could not remember at first where he was, then it dawned on him, he was in his own bed staring at his own ceiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept here. Robin jolted up, staring around wildly for a moment before the shooting pain in his shoulder caused his memory to come flooding back. He had been trying to help Gisbourne in the forest, why though he couldn’t fathom, something about the vulnerability on his face in the instant their attacker grabbed him had compelled Robin to act. Still staring at the ceiling Robin wondered why he was in his own house, Guy’s house now, and not in some dungeon below the castle. His second attempt at sitting up worked much better, the pain his shoulder was, at the moment little more than a dull ache. He gazed round the room, not much had been changed since he had last been in here, ‘When had he last been here?’. Suddenly noticing the sounds of someone else breathing in the room he looked down to see Guy, sleeping, still sat on the stool but with his head and arms resting on the edge of the bed. Curiously watching the man Robin wondered why someone who looked so innocent sleeping could obey without question a monster like the Sheriff. Reaching out on a whim Robin brushed dark hair away from Guy’s face. Guy, trained as both soldier and assassin woke at the gentle touch. Robin jumped back, jarring his shoulder in the process and falling back into the bed with a cry of pain as fire seemed to burn through his injury. Guy instantly panicked again, standing far too suddenly for someone who had just woken up and toppling over onto the bed and Robin.

After a moment Guy sat up, blushing furiously again, in a way that Robin was beginning to find rather endearing. For a few seconds longer Guy remained sat almost on top of Robin before muttering something angrily and storming out of the room.

“…nor…anything like.” Robin repeated softly, eyes fixed on the closed door.

He arched and bucked, grabbing at the controls for support. Long slim fingers, encased in black leather glided up to his arse as a warm voice breathed in his ear.

“Say my name. Just once and I’ll give you everything.”

A soft whimper reached his ears; it took him a moment before he realized he was the one moaning in pleasure. The other man licked his neck, tasting him, teasing him. He bit down electing another cry of ecstasy from his lips. He was being offered a chance beyond his wildest of dreams, only to say that name; it would be so easy to surrender, to let the world burn around him.

Warm hands brushed against his stomach, ghosting up towards his chest. The smooth leather brushed against one nipple, causing him to gasp and writhe again. He felt his Master’s delight at such a reaction, and was suddenly flipped, staring up into that face. A slight smirk moved the other mans lips and lust danced in his eyes.

“Won’t you beg for me Doctor?”

The Master grinned and grinded against him, causing more whimpered pleas to spill from his lips. He dropped his lips closer to the Doctor’s sensitive chest; just his breath against the skin was enough to excite him further. His tongue darted out and licked the sensitive flesh, earning a yelp as the Doctor arched against him, pressing and grinding wantonly. But still that elusive name would not pass his lips. The Master mock-growled and sucked at the hard red nub, earning him the single word he had been silently begging his Doctor to say,

“M-master…”

He whimpered, begging not only with his body but his mind too. It was this that almost broke the Master. He wanted the other man so much he was almost prepared to end this game right now.

The Master’s quick fingers made short work of the fastenings on the Doctor’s trousers; they fell to the TARDIS floor with a soft rustle of fabric. Smooth leather slid against the sensitive skin on the Doctor’s thighs, dancing, tapping out that endless beat.

“Master…please…”

The slim time lord was begging again. It made a beautiful picture, dark, tousled hair, pale skin mapped with purpling bite marks. And his Doctor’s eyes, burning with desire.

“Please what Doctor?”

He smirked, torturing the almost painfully innocent man, trapped, mewling, beneath him.

“Master….I can’t….please, take me!”

The Doctor gasped, his mind trying in vain to fight his dominating desire.

“You begged for me,”

The Master smirked, almost considering giving in to the Doctor’s request,

“But oh my dear Doctor you have been naïve.”

He strode away from the consol room, leaving the Doctor flushed, gasping and unsated. Again.

....and henceforth the Doctor had a affair with the milkman. 
Master: You did WHAT!?
Ten: I didn't! I swear!
so Doctor who was it?
Five: was it Turlough?
Turlough: NO IT BLOODY WELL WAS NOT ME!!!
Five: oh.
Ten: What are you doing here!? It'll make a pardox again!!!!
hehehe PARADOX TIME!
Ten: ....and besides, there is no milk on Gallifrey!
WHAT!!!! you mean no cows or milk or...or....LON LONS!? thats insane! 
Master: look who's talking....
Link: who said Lon lons?
Link shut up and get back to hyrule before I tell Zelda about Kafie...
Turlough: why is there no milk on gallifrey?
becaaause, if there was then all the Time Lords would be forced to deliver milk throughout all of space and time....and that would make for a very boring TV show.
All: .....
Ten: so I didn't have an affair?
yes you did...the milk man was infact Jenkins!
Ten: who?
that UNIT guy....
Jenkins: but...i'm in UNIT....so i'm not a milkman!
yes you are!
Jenkins: but-
MILKMAN!
Ten: yeah why not....

Edward’s eyes flickered and he groaned as he pulled himself up out of the blackness. The pain from his shoulder was excruciating but at least he could still move.

Fumbling in his rudimentary first aid pack he pulled out the necessary materials to make a tourniquet to stop the hot, crimson blood bubbling up through the wound. Treating his injury, he came to a realization that he had been shot from behind. Pushing this thought to the back of his mind Edward took stock of his surroundings, he was still on the beach behind the barricade, but the shooting had stopped for now. The only sounds left on the shore were the tortured groans of the injured and the harsh cries of the gulls.

He would not be safe on the beach, surrounded by Germans and with a commander who thought he was deserting. Taking advantage of the momentary ceasefire Edward slipped off the beach and into the surrounding countryside. Worming his way into a thick hedge Edward crouched, doubled over, racking his brains for a course of action, to go back to camp would be suicide, he would be put to the firing squad for desertion or be killed by the Germans at the top of the beach. But he needed better medical treatment for his injury, so after sitting for a few more moments he decided on a course of action. He would head for Bayeux, the rest of the British regiments landing on Sword and Juno should have taken the town by now and he would be able to get his shoulder seen to.

Now that he had made his decision Edward was determined to reach his goal, pulling out his small compass, a parting gift from his younger sister, he set of in a north easterly direction, towards, he hoped, the town of Bayeux.

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After recovering from his fright at the house, Heinrich was also deciding on a course of action. He needed to escape his unit, and with any luck, France itself.

Finally realizing where his panicked flight had taken him Heinrich glanced around for some kind of cover, noticing a pile of barrels stacked near the wall of a building he quickly ducked down behind them. The reason for his panic was his location, Vierville su Mer, currently occupied by American soldiers. Crouching behind the barrels Heinrich wondered how he had managed to get so far behind enemy lines without being captured or killed, as the wind changed though, he became suddenly aware of the fate of the Americans on this side of town. The smell of death assaulted his senses, causing his eyes to water and his stomach to lurch with nausea. The American troops looked as though they had been decimated in seconds.

Despite his revulsion at the carnage Heinrich was too much of a soldier to pass up this opportunity. Moving out into the open he warily inspected some of the corpses, enough of the American’s uniforms were salvageable enough for him to disguise himself as a regular American soldier. Moving in disguise, he thought, he would maybe be able to get as far as St Laurent undetected.