→ [RL with Guy: Tied-Up!]

[for_britain]

He'd been having such a nice dream, too.

Though, Robin had to admit as he tugged at the twine fastening his wrist to Gisborne's, at least he'd woken up before leaning in to kiss Marian-- er. Gisborne. It was bad enough he had to wake up to that bastard's ugly mug, but it was worse still that he had gotten to Nottingham, somehow, and tied to Guy

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[for_power]

The movement had not bothered him, initially. It was not uncommon for him to invite a soft, warm young woman to his bed only to kick her out when he rose but what was unusual was the stubble. His fingers had twitched as his hand was lifted and the warmth of breath near them had encouraged them to brush the backs of his fingers against the cheek near them.

Brows drew and his head turned, eyes cracking with a bleary look. He stared for a long moment and then his eyes dropped to the twine that connected them. He frowned. It was tempting to comment on the outlaw's eagerness to be in his bed but he was in no mood to joke about that now. Still half asleep anyway. Instead, he spoke almost exasperated, making no move to apprehend him, "Robin, what are you doing?"

[for_britain]

He wasn't sure what was stranger: having his cheek caressed by Gisborne or the gentleness by which he had done so. It was inconceivable in Robin's mind that he could be anything but aggressive and harsh, let alone affectionate.

Thankfully, that little reverie was interrupted by Gisborne's question, to which he had no better answer than, "What does it look like I'm doing?" paired with a condescending, tired green stare.

[for_power]

He let his hand fall limp, still overcome with tired; it was not time to get ready yet, dawn had barely broken. He sighed, heavy, shifting slightly and it was to be farther away from Robin.

"Whatever point you're trying to make tying yourself to me, won't work," that usual darkness was starting to creep back into his voice and his free hand lifted to pat his own belly, lightly, absently, eyes sliding back shut. Bugger, he was tired; stayed up far too late the night previous entertaining his Master's wishes, getting him food or drink or recounting tales for him or going over a ledger of fines and those who were to be hung or tortured the day next. Far, far too tired now and as his mind became more conscious, he began to feel more uncomfortable without his sword at his side.

Said free hand slipped from his belly and fell off the side of the bed, blindly groping for said weapon.

"I'll hang you in the morning if you're still here," tiredly.

[for_britain]

"What could I possibly be trying to prove by tying myself to the man hunting me?" He replied sarcastically, a little too loudly for how early it was. He frowned at Guy's back, envious he could simply roll over and go back to sleep, as if it were nothing. Strictly speaking, he had caught Robin. So, therefore, he didn't need to worry about it, did he?

"Stupid spaniel," Robin muttered, lifting their hands once more to gnaw at the string. He paused, hands halfway to his mouth, when he noticed him reaching over the edge of the bed for something. "Gisborne. D'you have a knife handy? Y'know, for cutting open the corsets off buxom blondes or the like."