A/N: I forgot to say before that you could imagine him as Snape or as the
Sheriff. Only I went and described him as the Sheriff, didn't I? Feel
free to imagine him as he looks in Harry Potter.
By the way, I had to make a phonecall to Nottingham yesterday. ooh. LOL
************************** The journey to Nottingham castle was long and arduous. Wormtail and the men in front made straight for the castle dragging Will Scarlett and Rubeus Hagrid along with them. To his utter humiliation, Peter of Gisborn had performed the Imperious curse upon Hagrid, so he followed the soldiers meekly, even carrying a struggling Will. Myself and my captors were waylaid by more outlaws, lead by the Fat Friar, who attempted to free me and search for Will and Hagrid. Even with half the army on their way to Nottingham castle, my captors greatly outnumbered the Merrie Men. The Fat Friar had to admit defeat. Though it makes me feel thoroughly ashamed to admit it, a deep and secret part of me was glad the outlaws had to retreat. For of course the Sheriff, who had so captured my desire only moments before, had gone on ahead with his cousin.
Much to my chagrin, the men decided to make a huge detour to throw off any potential rescuers, and the journey that in theory should have only taken a few hours took two days. This left me being uncomfortably bumped around on the back of a knobbly old horse, at the mercy of an uncouth Norman with foul breath. When we bedded down for the night I was unable to sleep, tortured by erotic images thrown up by my own fevered imagination.
*
The Sheriff of Nottingham was feeling thoroughly vexed. Servants and wenches alike cowered into the corners as he swept from room to room cursing things at random and bawling in rage at anyone who got in his way. Currently the scribe was the focus of the Sheriff's indomitable wrath, after having informed him that Robin of Gryffindor's popularity was rising.
"Cancel the kitchen scraps for the poor, and call off Christmas!" he roared, slamming the door behind him. He caught sight of two terrified girls huddled by a flaming torch in the corridor, obviously brought for him by one of his men, hoping to curry favour. He was frustrated and tense, and needed to find release in the arms of a good woman. These skinny wenches would have to do.
"You-" he growled, indicating the one with a nod of his head "my room, ten thirty. You, ten forty-five-" he smirked lavisciously, "and bring a friend." The Sheriff was interrupted in his amorous pursuits by a clatter of chain mail in the corridor. He whipped round and caught sight of several of his men dragging a familiar woman round the corner and out of sight. He felt a stirring in his loins at the memory of the stolen moment in Sherwood Forest. He waved his hand at the girls before him.
"I've changed my mind."
Quick as a flash he rounded the corner where the soldiers had gone. "YOU!" he roared suddenly at the nearest soldier. The Norman paled visibly and sidled towards the Sheriff like a dog about to be whipped.
"Yes, my Lord," he whispered, through lips that had turned blue with fear.
"The girl. Did you touch her?"
"N-no, my Lord, we understood -"
The Sheriff's hand reached up and closed around the man's neck. "Good. For if I find that any of you have laid a finger upon her you will die. Slowly."
* My knees nearly gave way upon hearing that voice. It is so distinctive, low and seductive. It sent a shiver down my spine that pooled somewhere between my legs, where I throbbed with desire. By the time I dared to turn round, he had gone.
I was thrown into a cell where I stayed for several hours during which I was given a stale piece of bread and cheese, until there was a loud bang on my door. Just as suddenly, it was wrenched open.
"The Sheriff demands to see you," the soldier grunted. He virtually had to carry me to the Sheriff's quarters I was shaking so badly. We arrived and he left me outside the door after knocking on it.
"Enter."
Timidly I pushed open the ornate wooden door, and hung onto the handle for dear life. The Sheriff of Nottingham stood before me, still fully clothed and wearing his thick black and gold cloak around him. I was transfixed with a heady mixture of desire and terror. I did not dare look downwards to see the welcome he had waiting for me. We stood staring at each other for a moment, I was sure I would burst with the suspense. Like a beast he crossed the distance between us in a single bound and lifting me easily, he threw me backwards on top of the table, sending the remnants of his dinner crashing to the floor. He leapt up on to it and stood above me, the bottom of his cloak swirling about my body. I caught sight of the lustful excitement in his eyes, and the long, lean hardness of his body. He sank to his knees and inched closer to me. I whimpered in terrified anticipation and closed my eyes.
There was a creak as the door opened and a face peered round. Enraged, the Sheriff grabbed the nearest goblet left on the table and threw it at the door.
"I TOLD YOU I'D CHANGED MY MIND!!!!" he roared.
He turned back to me and suddenly ripped the front of my bodice apart. At that moment his eyes softened. He touched my cheek gently. "You are so beautiful," he whispered. Then with a roar, he hiked my dress up round my waist. His fingers found their way into my flesh. "By Christ you are wet," he murmured. I could only mew in reply, gasping in pleasure as his fingers probed further.
***********************
A/N: Sorry! I'm going to have to leave you here! Please don't kill me;) Basically, I've gone back to Uni, and well, you try writing erotic fiction about Alan Rickman in a crowded computer room! Even opening my reviews for this is bad enough - *Katie* - I couldn't keep a straight face when I opened yours! This was as far as I got before my parents came to bring me back. Anyway, I'll go back home soon and finish this off. So, as the Sheriff was going to say before I was rudely interrupted - Keep yourself on ice...
By the way, I had to make a phonecall to Nottingham yesterday. ooh. LOL
************************** The journey to Nottingham castle was long and arduous. Wormtail and the men in front made straight for the castle dragging Will Scarlett and Rubeus Hagrid along with them. To his utter humiliation, Peter of Gisborn had performed the Imperious curse upon Hagrid, so he followed the soldiers meekly, even carrying a struggling Will. Myself and my captors were waylaid by more outlaws, lead by the Fat Friar, who attempted to free me and search for Will and Hagrid. Even with half the army on their way to Nottingham castle, my captors greatly outnumbered the Merrie Men. The Fat Friar had to admit defeat. Though it makes me feel thoroughly ashamed to admit it, a deep and secret part of me was glad the outlaws had to retreat. For of course the Sheriff, who had so captured my desire only moments before, had gone on ahead with his cousin.
Much to my chagrin, the men decided to make a huge detour to throw off any potential rescuers, and the journey that in theory should have only taken a few hours took two days. This left me being uncomfortably bumped around on the back of a knobbly old horse, at the mercy of an uncouth Norman with foul breath. When we bedded down for the night I was unable to sleep, tortured by erotic images thrown up by my own fevered imagination.
*
The Sheriff of Nottingham was feeling thoroughly vexed. Servants and wenches alike cowered into the corners as he swept from room to room cursing things at random and bawling in rage at anyone who got in his way. Currently the scribe was the focus of the Sheriff's indomitable wrath, after having informed him that Robin of Gryffindor's popularity was rising.
"Cancel the kitchen scraps for the poor, and call off Christmas!" he roared, slamming the door behind him. He caught sight of two terrified girls huddled by a flaming torch in the corridor, obviously brought for him by one of his men, hoping to curry favour. He was frustrated and tense, and needed to find release in the arms of a good woman. These skinny wenches would have to do.
"You-" he growled, indicating the one with a nod of his head "my room, ten thirty. You, ten forty-five-" he smirked lavisciously, "and bring a friend." The Sheriff was interrupted in his amorous pursuits by a clatter of chain mail in the corridor. He whipped round and caught sight of several of his men dragging a familiar woman round the corner and out of sight. He felt a stirring in his loins at the memory of the stolen moment in Sherwood Forest. He waved his hand at the girls before him.
"I've changed my mind."
Quick as a flash he rounded the corner where the soldiers had gone. "YOU!" he roared suddenly at the nearest soldier. The Norman paled visibly and sidled towards the Sheriff like a dog about to be whipped.
"Yes, my Lord," he whispered, through lips that had turned blue with fear.
"The girl. Did you touch her?"
"N-no, my Lord, we understood -"
The Sheriff's hand reached up and closed around the man's neck. "Good. For if I find that any of you have laid a finger upon her you will die. Slowly."
* My knees nearly gave way upon hearing that voice. It is so distinctive, low and seductive. It sent a shiver down my spine that pooled somewhere between my legs, where I throbbed with desire. By the time I dared to turn round, he had gone.
I was thrown into a cell where I stayed for several hours during which I was given a stale piece of bread and cheese, until there was a loud bang on my door. Just as suddenly, it was wrenched open.
"The Sheriff demands to see you," the soldier grunted. He virtually had to carry me to the Sheriff's quarters I was shaking so badly. We arrived and he left me outside the door after knocking on it.
"Enter."
Timidly I pushed open the ornate wooden door, and hung onto the handle for dear life. The Sheriff of Nottingham stood before me, still fully clothed and wearing his thick black and gold cloak around him. I was transfixed with a heady mixture of desire and terror. I did not dare look downwards to see the welcome he had waiting for me. We stood staring at each other for a moment, I was sure I would burst with the suspense. Like a beast he crossed the distance between us in a single bound and lifting me easily, he threw me backwards on top of the table, sending the remnants of his dinner crashing to the floor. He leapt up on to it and stood above me, the bottom of his cloak swirling about my body. I caught sight of the lustful excitement in his eyes, and the long, lean hardness of his body. He sank to his knees and inched closer to me. I whimpered in terrified anticipation and closed my eyes.
There was a creak as the door opened and a face peered round. Enraged, the Sheriff grabbed the nearest goblet left on the table and threw it at the door.
"I TOLD YOU I'D CHANGED MY MIND!!!!" he roared.
He turned back to me and suddenly ripped the front of my bodice apart. At that moment his eyes softened. He touched my cheek gently. "You are so beautiful," he whispered. Then with a roar, he hiked my dress up round my waist. His fingers found their way into my flesh. "By Christ you are wet," he murmured. I could only mew in reply, gasping in pleasure as his fingers probed further.
***********************
A/N: Sorry! I'm going to have to leave you here! Please don't kill me;) Basically, I've gone back to Uni, and well, you try writing erotic fiction about Alan Rickman in a crowded computer room! Even opening my reviews for this is bad enough - *Katie* - I couldn't keep a straight face when I opened yours! This was as far as I got before my parents came to bring me back. Anyway, I'll go back home soon and finish this off. So, as the Sheriff was going to say before I was rudely interrupted - Keep yourself on ice...