By: Sherlock's Sparrow
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Robin Hood, the BBC version or any other.
Chapter One: Secrets
Gisbourne and his men had captured Locksley in a chapel. He was already bound and seated in front of the altar, when Gisbourne arrived. He approached the trussed up outlaw, his face full of mirth and menace. Gisbourne stood in front of Locksley, relishing the empowering feelings he got from towering over his captive.
"I've caught you at last, Locksley," he said, squatting down to get eye level.
Locksley did not reply, but gave his captor a defiant, disdainful stare. Gisbourne grabbed Locksley's chin in one hand.
"So proud. So arrogant. So naïve," he murmured, using his free hand to lightly trace down Locksley's cheek, along his jaw line, and down his throat to his collarbone.
He did not fail to notice the slight tremor that seized Locksley as he did so.
"Not for much longer."
Gisbourne ordered his men to leave the chapel and to patrol the perimeter. Once they were gone, Gisbourne focused his attention on Locksley again. Gisbourne shoved Locksley onto the stone floor and took out a dagger. He used the dagger to cut apart Locksley's leggings. With a booted foot, Gisbourne flipped the bound man onto his stomach and straddled his hips. Without further delay, Gisbourne pulled down his own leggings as far as he could and nudged Locksley's legs apart slightly with his knee. He placed his hands over Locksley's shoulders with a tight grip. Locksley's screams could not be heard outside of the chapel's stone walls.
Gisbourne awoke, Locksley's name escaping his lips. It was early morning; the sun was just barely up, leaving the room mostly dark. He sighed once, before getting out of bed. He was a bit more agitated than usual. Gisbourne was getting sick and tired of the increasingly arousing dreams he'd been having of the former lord of Locksley.
Gisbourne quickly dressed and ordered that his bedding be washed and fresh ones put on his bed, as he left the house. He decided that a ride would do him good. Fresh air was just the thing to clear his mind of those disgustingly disturbing dreams. He soon found himself in Sherwood Forest. He hoped he wouldn't run into the outlaws this time. Having a confrontation with Robin of Locksley was the last thing Gisbourne wanted at this particular moment.
Luck was not on Gisbourne's side that day, because not long after he thought that, Locksley's outlaws came out of the trees like rats. Locksley was among them.
"What do you want, Locksley?" asked Gisbourne, irritably.
Locksley was standing on a tree branch. The rest of the outlaws were standing on the ground in front of the tree, with Locksley standing above them like some lord of the trees. Gisbourne shook the thought out of his head.
"Funny, I was about ready to ask you that , Gisbourne," replied Locksley.
"I'm not here on business," said Gisbourne, "which is obvious, as I don't have my men with me."
"So, you're 'ere on pleasure, then?" asked the one called Allan A-Dale, with a laugh.
The others thought it was funny as well.
Gisbourne squashed down the thoughts that came up because of that phrase.
"I'm going on a leisurely ride," Gisbourne answered, "that is all."
"Well, as it so happens, so are we," said Locksley.
"I'm not tryin' to be funny," remarked Allan, "but we're not ridin', so we're actually havin' a leisurely walk."
"He's right about that," agreed Locksley's little servant.
A few days later, Gisbourne was at the Sheriff's castle in Nottingham. He was standing in front of a window, gazing out at the castle grounds.
"Don't you agree, Gisbourne?" asked the Sheriff.
Gisbourne turned his head to look at the Sheriff.
"What was that?" he asked, confusion clear on his face and voice.
"You weren't listening?" asked the Sheriff, not sounding pleased.
"I was...distracted," said Gisbourne.
"What I said was 'things have been oddly quiet. Locksley's been oddly quiet'," repeated the Sheriff.
There was silence in the room for a moment, before the Sheriff spoke again.
"Well?" he asked, sounding rather impatient.
"Well what?" asked Gisbourne, cluelessly.
The Sheriff rolled his eyes, as he replied, "Don't you agree?"
"Quiet's good," answered Gisbourne, "I like quiet."
The Sheriff gave Gisbourne a look like he'd grown another head.
"Gisbourne, go and get more guards to patrol the castle grounds," said the Sheriff at last, "its too quiet."
Gisbourne nodded and ran off in search of more guards.
Much, Robin, and Allan were fishing at a small stream running through the forest. Correction, they were attempting to fish, with a few sticks, some strong thread and bent sewing needles. Well, at the moment, Much was trying to fish at one end of the stream. Allan and Robin were some distance away, splashing each other with the water. They'd given up trying to catch anything an hour beforehand. Much had given up yelling at them for scaring away the fish five minutes earlier. Now, he was sitting with his line in the water, watching Allan and the man he still called Master.
Robin was standing in the stream in his leggings and undershirt. The undershirt was completely soaked and clung to his body like a second skin. Allan wasn't wearing a shirt at all anymore, but Much wasn't really paying attention to him. 'Love' was a funny word, Much decided. You could love someone as a friend or like a brother or sister, but you could also really love someone. It was quite easy to misunderstand someone's meaning when hearing it used. Much had proof of that. It happens to him all the time. He loved Robin, and not, as everyone assumed, the 'I love you as a friend or brother' love. He never corrected anyone on it, though. It was better if they thought the wrong one.
"Wonder what's up with Gisbourne lately," commented Allan, all of a sudden.
Robin shrugged, dodging Allan's latest spray of water.
"Dunno," he said, "he's probably up to no good."
"He seems rather…distracted lately," continued Allan, "like he's thinkin' on one thing and talkin' 'bout another."
Robin nodded, hitting Allan full in the face with a particularly large splash.
"Good observation, Allan," he replied, "Much, you've been quiet for awhile."
"What? What's happening?" asked Much, in confusion.
He had completely zoned out for the past five minutes.
Allan laughed, and Robin grinned a smile that never ceased to turn Much's brain to mush.
"We're talkin' 'bout Gisbourne," said Allan, "an' how strange he's bin actin' lately."
"Oh," said Much, "that."
He'd noticed that, too, and knew Gisbourne had something up his sleeve.
"No good is what I say to that," added Much, "none at all."
"Nicely put, Much," said Robin.
Gisbourne was dreaming about him again.
He had just been visiting the Sheriff at the castle and was riding through Sherwood Forest on his way home again, when he happened upon Locksley.
"Where are we headed, Gisbourne?" the outlaw asked.
"Home," replied Gisbourne, shortly.
He did not feel like making small talk with Locksley.
"You're certainly in a hurry," continued Locksley, conversationally.
"Because I want to get home," said Gisbourne, irritably.
Locksley crossed his arms over his chest and stared.
"What?" Gisbourne asked.
Locksley said nothing, he only continued to stare. Gisbourne dismounted and stood in front of Locksley. Locksley did not move.
"What are you staring at?" Gisbourne demanded.
When Locksley failed to respond, Gisbourne gave him a push. Locksley laughed.
"Always so pushy, Gisbourne," he said.
Gisbourne snarled in response.
"I'm not in the mood for games, Locksley."
"Well, that's no fun," commented Locksley with a pout.
"You want to see fun?" asked Gisbourne, angrily, "I'll give you 'fun'."
Gisbourne roughly shoved Locksley against a nearby tree and kept him in place by holding his shoulders. He soon slid his hands over to Locksley's chest. He kept one hand on his collar and moved the other one underneath the layers of clothes on his torso. Gisbourne slowly ran his hand down Locksley's chest til it reached the top of his leggings. This was not what Locksley had in mind, and tried to squirm out of Gisbourne's grip. When Gisbourne's lips met his, Locksley ceased his struggles, too shocked to do anything more.