Robin Hood and his Merry Man
The sound of the arrow whizzing through the air, the feel of the feathers against his cheek, and the sheer euphoria he experienced when the arrow found its mark weren’t the best parts of archery for Robin. No, the best part was after when he looked to the side and saw the awe in which Little John looked back at him.
The name was ironic of course, because there was nothing little about John. The man stood at six foot five, a solid wall of muscle and brute strength.
His dearest companion had been fighting by his side for years as they took back their kingdom from fiends who prayed on the weak.
There hadn’t been a day over the last three years that John hadn’t been by his side. Where Robin was precise, striking his enemies quickly and efficiently, John was a wild animal, an untamed force of nature, whirling, hacking, and slashing until one by one his foes were cut down before him.
“Show off,” John said, though his eyes smiled as he spoke.
The big man kicked some dirt on the ground, making a small pit in which to build a fire.
Robin retrieved his arrow from the tree. John was right, he was a show off, but putting that look on Little John’s face was addictive.
“Do you remember the night we met?” Robin asked as he placed his arrow back in his quiver.
“Aye, you were a spoilt little lord who thought he was better than me,” John said, cocking a thick dark eyebrow. He managed to light the dried grass he’d gathered and blew on it gently.
Robin cringed, though only internally. Yes, he had been something of a shit in his youth, but he hoped he’d made up for it since then.
“No, not then, not when we were children,” Robin said, sitting himself down by the pit as John’s large hands carefully placed twigs around the infant flame.
“Ahh, when you returned from the war,” John said. “When you asked me to fight with you and I laughed in your face.”
Robin grinned and leaned back on his elbows. “And now here we are, thick as thieves.”
Their lives had been so different once upon a time. Robin had grown up, the son of a lord, while John had grown up the son of a farmer. They’d spent many evenings in these woods trying to pass the time as they readied farmers, blacksmiths, bakers, and servants to be soldiers. During that time Robin had taught John to read, and John had taught Robin how to love.
“Hey, we are thieves no longer,” Robin pointed out. “We were pardoned by the king himself.”
“Least he could do,” John murmured under his breath.
Robin couldn’t blame him. King Richard had left his people to fight a holy war, to convince others that the Christian way was the only way, even if that meant with force.
Robin couldn’t claim to have read all of the bible, but the things he’d witnessed over there, he felt certain God could never want such a thing. The war had changed him. He had left a spoilt lord and returned a man, ready to fight for what he believed in.
Once again Nottingham knew peace, which meant that Robin and John’s lives were no longer constantly under threat.
With the fire warming the evening air, they set about sharing food and a skin of wine as one by one the stars blinked into existence.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” John said as he laid himself down, arms under his head.
Robin let himself look his fill of the big man. Never had there been a gentler nor sturdier heart than that of his Little John.
“Nothing can humble a man like looking up at the night sky,” Robin said as he lay beside him. “Only God himself could paint such a view.”
He turned his head and found that John was watching him. It wasn’t always easy for them to find time to be together. It was why he’d suggested spending the night in the woods, just like they had been forced to when they were wanted men.
John had kept one of Robin Hoods wanted posters. He kept it folded in his satchel.
Turning onto his side, Robin propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at his love. With a playful glint in his eyes, Robin reached down and began unbuttoning John’s shirt. He popped the buttons open slowly, holding John’s intense hazel gaze the entire time.
John reached up and pushed a strand of Robin’s blond hair back behind his ear.
“Robin.” John said his name as though it were a prayer, or a curse, or perhaps both.
With his shirt undone, John’s beautiful chest was displayed to the undoubtedly jealous stars. Robin wasted no time in lowering his head to pepper it with kisses.
He grabbed an arrow from his quiver, causing his lover to raise an eyebrow.
“Worry not,” Robin assured him playfully. “I would not mar such a work of art.”
He turned the arrow so that he could lightly drag the feathers over John’s skin. At first he drew a straight line down to the navel, but then he danced it back up to brush gently over a nipple.
Little John sighed. Robin kept an eye on John’s breaches for evidence of his enjoyment. It was one of his favourite things, tormenting his lover and watching him come undone. There was nothing else, save his bow, that came close to making him feel truly alive.
“You are a demon,” John told him, his voice strained. “Sent here to lead me astray.”
Robin would laugh if it weren’t probably true.
“I don’t think a demon would be capable of such love,” Robin told him sweetly.
If John’s body weren’t currently being roused he might have rolled his eyes at the sentimental side of Robin.
Laying the arrow on John’s stomach, Robin unlaced the big man’s breeches and tugged them down, revealing the dark thatch of hidden hair to the night air. His cock was only slightly hard, which wouldn’t do at all.
He pulled the breeches lower and retrieved his arrow.
“God, Robin, you be careful with that thing down there,” John warned, much to Robin’s amusement.
“My arrows never miss their target, John. You should know that.”
“Your target has never been my cock before.”
With a sly smile Robin nuzzled at John’s stomach as he teased the feathers down over John’s manhood. Again, to reiterate, there was nothing little about Little John.
The scent of his lover filled Robin’s nostrils and he licked a stripe along the soft skin of his belly. His own cock began to stir.
“Off,” John grunted, tugging at Robin’s shirt.
He had already managed to reduce the big man to words of single syllables. Soon John wouldn’t be able to speak at all. The only sounds coming from his lover would be desperate moans.
Giving John what he wanted, Robin pulled back and dragged his shirt up over his head. He tossed it carelessly to the side, caring not where it landed. He unlaced his breeches, giving his cock more room to grow.
John wriggled, urging his own breeches down so that he could be free of them entirely. He spread his legs so that Robin could slot himself between them.
When they’d been living in the woods, there were whole days when John would stay naked. His wild man loved the feel of air on his skin.
He loved the feel of Robin even more.
Looking up at John’s face from where he was nestled between his thighs, he lowered his head slowly as if to take John in his mouth. Instead, he blew lightly on the tip, making John groan in frustration.
“Have you never heard the saying that good things come to those who wait?” Robin teased.
“Do you know there’s only so much of your horseshit I’ll put up with before I throw you down over that stump and fuck you blind?” John retorted.
That didn’t sound like much of a threat to Robin, more of an incentive really.
Sending his lover a cheeky wink he took John’s weighty cock in his hand and licked a line up the underside. He saw John’s eyelids flutter close in pleasure.
Savouring the taste, Robin licked him again before engulfing the head with his mouth. He hummed in enjoyment, the vibrations sending fissions of pleasure through John’s cock.
His own manhood swelled. Robin moved to straddle one of John’s thick legs so that he could rub himself on it.
He sucked lightly, his hand rubbing low over John’s belly. John bit his lower lip and groaned, his hand finding Robin’s hair.
John’s cock was nice and hard now. Robin sucked it down as far as he could go, swallowing around the hefty appendage. He used his other hand to fondle John’s balls, rolling them in his hand and squeezing ever so gently.
“God, Robin, your mouth.”
Robin would have grinned if he could. He bobbed his head up and down, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked. He pulled off, needing to breathe, and watched as the wet and shiny cock bobbed back and forth.
He made sure to hold John’s gaze as he began rubbing off on the girthy leg under him. His cock was hard and the friction against John’s leg felt good.
He sucked one of John’s balls into his mouth, rolling it around his tongue.
“All the sheriff’s men who tried to take me down really should have just done that,” John said clenching his hand in Robin’s hair.
Robin wanted to laugh. Instead he sucked some skin between his lips.
“It would have given me even more incentive to shoot them,” Robin told him.
He reached down and took his cock in hand, needing more friction that John’s leg could provide. He stroked himself as John played with his hair. His fingers carding through the blond locks he often mocked him for. John’s idea of grooming was bathing in the stream every few days.
He pulled himself up on top of John so that he could grind their cocks together while he kissed him. He loved knowing that John would taste himself on Robin’s lips and tongue.
They kissed slowly, lazily even, as Robin circled his hips and pushed down. Their first time together had been much like this. Both of them unsure and a little scared of what it meant as they kissed and rubbed off against each other.
John’s hand slid down Robin’s back to cup his arse. Not happy with the pace Robin set John urged him to move faster.
John’s mouth was slack under his, letting Robin lick and nibble at his firm lips.
Robin moved his hips to an unheard rhythm as John pushed up against him.
He gasped as the large hands gripping his arse squeezed and kneaded at the fleshy globes.
“God, John,” Robin moaned against his mouth.
He could only imagine the sight they made, their bodies writhing together out in the open. If anyone were to come across them they would certainly be in for a shock.
The thought didn’t frighten Robin, nothing frightened him anymore.
They moved together, grinding and gasping, their cocks slick between them.
As John’s release drew close he began thrusting up erratically and his grip on Robin tightened. His lover’s thick fingers were so close to his opening that it made Robin wish they were in his manor in a real bed with real supplies.
When John came he threw back his head, his cry like that of a wild animal.
Robin loved the sounds John made. Even more so he loved that he was the cause of them. The wetness suddenly between them spurred Robin on. He buried his face in John's neck and thrust against him until he also found his release, muffling his cries against the sweat damp skin.
He never felt so close to another person as he did in that shared moment between them. John petted his hair, holding him close. Pressing a kiss to his temple.
The night was young and they had no place to be but right there with each other. Robin couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night.
Title: The Forgotten Mate
Author: Jane Wallace-Knight
Genre: MM, Paranormal Romance, Shapeshifter, Witches
Word Count: 48,094
Buy Link: http://www.bookstrand.com/book/the-forgotten-mate
Heat Rating: Sextreme
Blurb: Rowan Adams awakens surrounded by werewolves, with no memory of who he is. The man in front of him, Devon Carter, is the alpha of the pack and, according to him, Rowan’s mate.
Born into a coven of witches that behave more like a cult, Rowan took his sister and ran. They’d been running for years before they stumbled into Devon’s territory. Somehow, Rowan managed to convince the alpha to take him as his mate, knowing that his skills as a witch would benefit the pack, and that having a small army of werewolves to protect him and his sister was a pretty good deal.
The plan was going well until something went wrong with the mating ritual, leaving Rowan with no idea who he was, or what the hell was going on.
With the coven closing in, and trouble with another pack, Rowan barely has time to adjust to his crazy life, or to the man he’s apparently married.
There was no light or sound, only the presence of pain. It was like a searing hot iron being pushed through his brain, a vice clamping around his skull. He felt sick from the throbbing ache, a dizzying nausea rolling through his gut. He was scared, completely alone in the dark, and that was when he heard it. The sound of a voice, as deep and calm as the ocean on a still day.
“Rowan,” the voice called to him through the fog.
Rowan? he thought to himself. Who’s that?
Abruptly and without warning, the world came spinning back into view. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the shapes of a lot of people, all of them talking over each other. Large green trees loomed over them all. In his current state, it felt overwhelming.
“Quiet,” someone yelled, before kneeling down in front of him. “Rowan, are you okay?”
It was then he realized he was on all fours on the grass.
He blinked to try and clear the fog and looked up at the rugged face of the large man crouching in front of him. “Who are you?”
The man flinched and there was more chatter from the crowd.
“It’s me, Devon.”
“Then…who am I?”
Devon’s face was starting to become clearer, as was everything else. He was in the woods, on the ground, and there were eight people standing around him in a circle. There were candles and strange symbols craved into a tree.
“You’re Rowan. Rowan Adams,” Devon explained calmly. He reached out a hand and brushed a leaf from Rowan’s hair. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
The thing was that Rowan believed him. He nodded his head and instantly wished he hadn’t done it. The movement caused his headache to worsen. He put his hands to his head and squeezed as though he could push the pain away.
“Hey,” Devon said as he placed his own hands over Rowan’s and gently pulled them away. “Look at me.”
Rowan forced his eyes to focus on the man in front of him. Devon’s ice blue eyes were the first thing he zeroed in on. The intense gaze was framed with thick, dark eyelashes. His skin had a deep tan, built up over years of being outdoors, no doubt. His full lips and strong jaw were accentuated by some well-trimmed stubble.
Rowan felt himself leaning forward and breathing in the scent of the man before him. He smelled like warm earth and sawdust.
“That’s it,” Devon said. “Just focus on me. You’re going to be okay.”
The pain in Rowan’s head began to fade away, allowing room for panic. He had no idea who he was, who the people around him were, or why he was out in the middle of the woods.
He looked at his surroundings. The moon was full and ripe overhead, casting the woods in an eerie silver glow. He could smell something, burnt herbs. It coated the back of his throat.
“Go home,” Devon said, turning to the other people.
“Devon,” a teenage girl said, her voice an unsure whine.
“It’s okay, Gia,” Devon told her reassuringly. “Just go back to the house. I’ll bring him home. We’ll be right behind you.”
Another woman, this time older, took hold of Gia’s hand. “Come on, sweetie. Devon’s got this.”
Gia looked at Rowan with such fear in her eyes, as though his well-being was everything to her. He felt bad and wanted to say something to reassure her, but he had no idea who she was or what was going on.
“What’s happening? Why are we out here?” he asked Devon as the others reluctantly left. Still crouching down in front of him, Devon held out his hand.
“We were out here for the ritual,” Devon explained to him as he helped Rowan up.
“The ritual? What the hell are you talking about?”
The panic was starting to drown him. He had so many questions but no idea of where to start.
“It’s…if I tell you, it’ll just freak you out,” Devon explained.
Rowan stood, and Devon copied him.
“That answer you just gave me is what’s freaking me out!” Rowan shouted.
The corner of Devon’s mouth turned up slightly at Rowan’s reply. Devon quickly put a hand on Rowan’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what went wrong tonight, or if this was supposed to happen. You didn’t exactly have my full confidence in the first place,” Devon said. “I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this.”
“What are you talking about?” Rowan shouted again. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to have talked you into. Just tell me, already. I can take it.”
Devon raised an eyebrow at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can take it? Alright. I agreed to take you as my mate and to let you do this ritual so we could share our strength with you in return for your protection.”
Rowan took in their surroundings. The candles, the silver dishes filled with burning herbs. It was all so bizarre.
“I don’t know what any of that means!” Rowan shouted.
“I’m a werewolf,” Devon said as he grasped Rowan’s upper arms with his big hands and turned him to face him once more. “And you’re a witch. You and your sister. Tonight, we had a ceremony to bind the two of us together forever so that the two of you would be stronger and my pack and I would have two powerful witches in it.”
Rowan stared at the man in front of him for almost a full minute as he tried to make sense of the words coming out of his mouth. There was really only one way any of this made sense. This man and his friends were crazy, and they had kidnapped him.
He bent his head and kissed him again, moving his hands from Rowan’s face to his waist. He wouldn’t say the words, not yet, but he was certainly feeling it. He loved Rowan.
He didn’t know if his feelings had been amplified by the fact that Rowan was now his mate or not.
He let go of Rowan long enough to start the shower. They were both tired, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see Rowan naked and wet. Their hurried, spur of the moment grinding the other night had left him desperate for more.
There was no uncertainty or shyness as Rowan started to undress. He held Devon’s gaze as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head and began unbuttoning his pants.
“God, you’re pretty,” Devon said.
Rowan glared at him, making Devon laugh.
“Sorry,” Devon said as he slowly stalked back toward Rowan. “Should I say, beautiful? Handsome? Alluring? Ravishing—”
Rowan cut him off by taking hold of his shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss. Devon smiled against his lips, that was until Rowan’s hand started roaming down over his bare chest. His long fingers grazed over Devon’s nipples, making him shudder.
It had been a gamble, agreeing to Rowan’s proposal, but he was glad he’d taken it.
Devon kissed his way along Rowan’s jaw and ran his hand over the swell of the witch’s ass.
He loved how Rowan felt under his hands. He loved how quickly the younger man became undone.
“I’m gonna love you so good,” Devon promised him.
The two of them shared a look that spoke more than any words could.
Capturing Rowan’s lips again, Devon pulled his mate against him, moaning at the contact of skin against skin.
Devon’s cock throbbed in his jeans. He needed the constricting garment off of him. Reaching between them, he fumbled open his fly and pushed the denim down so he could kick them off.
Rowan broke their kiss and looked down Devon’s body.
“God, how do you look like that?” he said, his voice breathy and his eyes heavily lidded. He ran his hands over Devon’s sculpted chest and down to his stomach. Devon’s cock gave an eager twitch.
He watched his mate closely, seeing all the emotions play out over his perfect face. When Rowan was done taking his fill, he swallowed thickly and took in a deep breath.
“Get in the shower,” he said.
Devon’s body was coiled in anticipation. He stepped into the warm spray and turned in time to see Rowan remove the last of his clothes. Rowan was half hard, and there was a pink flush on his pale skin that Devon wanted to lick.
He loved that Rowan was more confident now. The witch held Devon’s gaze as he followed him into the shower. The tension between them was as thick as the steam filling the air.
He leaned in to kiss Rowan again, but Rowan stopped him. Instead, Rowan slowly sank down to his knees. Devon didn’t think he’d ever seen such an erotic sight. The water sprayed down on them, but Devon’s large frame stopped it from hitting Rowan in the face.
He was aware that, as far as Rowan knew, he’d never done this before. He reached down and cupped Rowan’s face, and felt his dick twitch when Rowan turned his head slightly and licked Devon’s palm.
Rowan smiled, clearly pleased with himself over the effect he was having on Devon. He leaned in and nuzzled Devon’s stomach. Devon ran his fingers through Rowan’s hair, tugging gently on the strands. Rowan placed a kiss just below Devon’s navel and took Devon’s cock in his hand.
Devon licked his lips and put one hand on the glass wall of the shower to steady himself. Rowan stroked him slowly, his long fingers gripping him tightly. He kissed and nipped at the tender skin of Devon’s abdomen, making his way south.
Devon watched, his breath caught in his throat, as Rowan placed a kiss on the tip of his cock.
He bit his lip, his hand balling into a fist, and watched Rowan part his lips to take the head into his mouth. Rowan’s eyes fluttered closed as he lightly sucked on the tip. He was tentative at first, experimental even, but he soon gained some confidence.
He took more of Devon’s cock into his mouth and ran his hand around to Devon’s ass. He shuddered as blunt nails scratched over a cheek.
He didn’t know if it was because Rowan was his mate and the bond they shared made what they had feel more special, but Devon couldn’t remember ever being so turned on.
He tenderly stroked Rowan’s hair and enjoyed the moment.
He was with his mate.
He had a mate.