Page 38 of Far From Sherwood Forest (Far From #3)

The sound of screams wakes me from a dead sleep. Henry’s booming voice follows, though it’s distant.

My eyes fly open, and I find myself alone in the same spot I fell asleep last night with Henry’s cock in my mouth. I didn’t expect to be able to sleep like that, but it was surprisingly soothing.

I can still taste him on my tongue…

“Where is Robin Hood?!”

Jumping to my feet at the deep, resounding voice, I peer down into the campsite to see Henry—or rather the Sheriff —on the back of a horse with his sword drawn. He must’ve woken early to go steal that horse first.

I’m a little upset he didn’t wake me before he left, but I suppose it’s best to start fresh back in the roles we have to play today.

He rides around the camp while the people scatter and retreat. If I was down there and this was like the old days, my men and I would be attacking. Henry’s alone, so it would be easy to disarm him and probably take him captive.

Of course, that’s not the plan.

John is down there, his hand extended out to his side, signaling to the men to hold their arrows.

The fact that he’s protecting Henry makes me smile.

I don’t love having to deceive my own people, but the truth is that word travels fast in this realm. Had Henry come down into the camp with us last night and if we had even managed to convince everyone that his allegiance has shifted, there’s a chance that would’ve made it back to the prince.

I trust my people, but gossip is a universal trait in every time and place.

At least, this way, if word does spread that both Robin Hood and the Sheriff have returned, Prince John will believe what we need him to. That would make this plan a lot easier.

“I know he’s returned,” Henry shouts as his horse makes circles around the center of the camp. “Someone’s going to tell me where he is, or I’ll start cutting off heads!”

Fortunately, I’m far enough away that the snort I make can’t be heard down there. I almost forgot how melodramatic the Sheriff used to be.

After tossing my hood over my head, I pick up my bow and shrug the quiver onto my shoulder. Nocking an arrow, I take aim and release. The arrow flies through the air and whizzes inches past Henry before embedding in the trunk of a tree behind him.

His head snaps around, and his eyes land on me. He scowls with familiar loathing, and I smirk back.

Just like old times.

“Looking for me, Sheriff?” I ask loudly enough so my voice carries.

“You’re not getting away from me this time, Robin Hood.”

I wink at him. “Catch me if you can.”

Turning around, I bolt into the trees.

It must take him a while to find a path for his horse because I’m running for at least a couple of minutes before I hear the pounding of hooves in the distance behind me. Either that or he wanted to give me a head start so we could get far enough away from the camp.

Right about now, John and the others should be heading in the opposite direction to the royal highway to, hopefully, save the king.

So far, so good.

I keep running, wanting to put some distance between us and the camp. The hoofbeats from Henry’s stolen horse get closer the deeper into the forest we go. I choose the densest path to slow him down, but he eventually catches up to me.

His horse is practically on top of me. Then he’s on top of me.

He launches himself off the animal’s back and crashes into mine, sending us both to the forest floor as my hood falls from my head. Somehow, he lands with most of his weight on the ground beside me instead of crushing me with it, but the impact still knocks the wind from my lungs.

Since Henry’s clearly still wanting to play the Sheriff, I scramble away from him, clouds of dirt billowing around us. He claws at my legs, but I kick his hands away.

Considering the first time he got hard for me was when we were literally locked in a fight, this is surprisingly fun.

I continue dodging his attempts to grab ahold of me, scurrying backward until I have enough space to push myself to my feet.

“Get back here, little thief!”

I rush forward to get further away before turning around to see him rising to his feet too. “Now why would I do that?” I ask with a smirk so wide it hurts my face. “I’m supposed to be a bad boy today.”

He narrows his eyes and growls, “Bad boys get punished.”

My cock jerks.

“Maybe I’d like it.”

With that, I spin around and take off once more, weaving my way through the trees as Henry’s heavy footfalls chase after me.

I think it’s safe to say that if anyone were watching, we’d be pretty convincing. However, the way my dick starts to swell the longer I run would probably ruin the act. At this point, I don’t think we’re doing it for an audience anymore.

This is just for us.

“I won’t let you get away this time, Robin!”

I know he won’t, and I don’t want him to.

His voice is further away. I’m still faster than him, so I’ve already put quite a bit of distance between us.

Maybe this is more than what it seems. As I keep running and he continues chasing me, it starts to feel like we’re both chasing closure. Like this is the last time we’ll ever be Robin Hood and the Sheriff. Like we’re saying goodbye to them for good so we can start fresh.

So, even though we’re already more than far enough from the camp, I don’t stop.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been running, but the sound of Henry crashing through the forest behind me starts to fade.

My legs are on fire, my breathing is labored, and my heart pounds in my chest. Sweat drips down my temples and causes my hair to cling to my forehead.

When I no longer hear him, I decide I can afford to rest for a moment.

Passing by a tree with one of the thickest trunks, I stop on the other side and lean my back against it. I drop my head back too and try to catch my breath.

I stand there like that for maybe twenty seconds before I feel something sharp and cold against the front of my throat.

I freeze and stop breathing all together.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Henry round the tree, his hand around the hilt of his sword and a victorious grin on his face. As he moves in an arc to stand in front of me, he straightens his sword, the edge of the blade becoming the sharp point resting in the hollow of my throat.

“Well, well,” he says with a tilt of his head. “Looks like I finally caught the infamous Hood.”

My chest still heaves from all the exertion as I give him a lopsided smile. “You did a long time ago, Sheriff.”

His grin softens, but he doesn’t drop his sword.

“Now what should I do with you?” he asks huskily as his eyes rake down my body, stopping at the tent in the front of my pants. He looks back up with an arched brow.

In my defense, he has a matching one.

“Drop the bow.”

I do, letting it fall to the ground followed by the quiver of arrows. The next thing I know, he flicks his wrist, the tip of his blade slicing through the top few threads of my tunic. He’s just as skilled with a sword as he once was because he doesn’t even nick my skin.

“I don’t know if we have time for this, Henry.” My voice wavers, and I’m breathless for an entirely different reason now.

“We’re not meeting up with Will and Alan until midday.” He drags the point of his sword lightly down my chest, and my cock gets even harder, like it’s him touching me instead of steel. “We have plenty of time for all the filthy things I’m going to do to you. Assuming you’re done running?”

“Not a chance.”

He drops his sword, but it’s only an illusion that he’s going to let me go.

The second I take a step to dart away, he grabs me by the back of my cloak, spins me around, and shoves me to the ground.

I crash down hard but immediately start to crawl away.

Then Henry’s heavy boot comes down on my back, flattening me into the dirt.

He leans down until I feel his warm breath on the back of my neck. “You’re done now. Do you know how easily I could crush you?”

If he was truly still the Sheriff, he probably would.

His boot leaves my back, and he grabs me by the hair, lifting me until I’m on all fours. He bites the shell of my ear before his low growl rumbles through me all the way to my cock.

“You’re fucking mine now, little thief.”

“I’m yours, Sheriff,” I agree eagerly, barely having the breath to speak.

He growls again, louder than before, and kicks my legs apart.

Settling between them, he grips me by the hips, pulling them up so my ass is in the air.

He flings my cloak to the side and yanks my pants down to my thighs, and my cock bobs free.

My head hangs between my shoulders, and I pant heavily as I watch a slow drop of precum leak from my tip and drip to the ground.

“Fuck, Robin.” He parts my cheeks roughly, and his thumb presses against my hole, making me moan. “That was fun, but I’m ready to sink inside this perfect ass.”

“Wait.”

Holding myself up with one hand, I reach into the pocket of my trousers and pull out a small, dark vial. I hold it up shakily, my entire body already trembling with anticipation.

“What’s this?” he asks as he takes it from me.

“Olive oil.”

He chuckles darkly as I hear him pop the cork. “Always so prepared. Just can’t wait to be fucked, huh? That desperate for cock?”

I groan and push my ass back. “Only yours.”

“Right answer. But…” He brings his hand down on my left cheek, and I pitch forward, crying out as the sting from his palm radiates through me. He laughs again. “You were a bad boy after all, weren’t you?”

Before I can respond, he smacks me on the ass several more times. My arms tremble with the effort to hold myself up, and the only thing I can do is hold my breath and take it. When he stops to rub his palm over the ache, all my breath comes in heavy pants.

“Fuck, your ass looks good all red like this.”

“Please, Henry,” I whine. “I need you.”

He leans over me again and presses a kiss at the base of my skull, making me shiver. His voice comes out softer as he says, “You have me, Robin.”