you picked the wrong house, bub

A cross, sick, and dying old man. That’s all he was… wasn’t he? It was such a silly thing to ponder. Life at the priory hadn’t been dull enough to consider any kind of tryst, let alone one with an ailing stranger, but something still beckoned you to him nonetheless. 

The full moon hung low in the night sky, casting a pearly reflection over the ceaseless waves. You had spent most of the evening beneath it, keeping warm by the fire the other sisters helped you build hours before. They all had returned to their chambers, but you remained, just curious to see if you could conjure the old man out of his refuge. It was getting late, though. You were going to accept the failed feat as the flames dwindled at your feet, knowing it was a silly little challenge. 

Until you heard the soft sound of crunching leaves growing nearer. 

You smiled wickedly to yourself. No other would leave the comfort of their bed at this hour or fall for this tender trap- just him, the man who would steal glances of you any chance he could after the moment in the orchard. Did he crave more? 

“No wonder the Prioress won’t let you hunt,” you called into the woods. “Your prey can tell too quickly when you’re near.” 

There was a stillness, like he didn’t expect to be caught. Turning your head, you focused your eyes on the trees, hoping you could spot his beaten-down shadow. Pitch black was all you could see. You spoke again, “Sir, are you there? Or have I gone mad?” 

“There is no sir here,” he finally exclaimed, voice tired but still darkening. “Nor is there any prey.” 

Randolph did his best to stifle his limp as he appeared out of the night, unruly gray hair still neatly tied away from his face, and oddly standing before you in his robe, undertunic, and braies. 

You laughed, “Perhaps you are the prey, Randolph. You’re going to catch your death out here wearing so little.” 

He wasn’t one for prattle; you knew that. Randolph simply took a breath as he stood a few feet away, like he was testing the waters to see if he could approach more. Your curious eyes softened into something more inviting as you studied him. “The fire will keep you warm. Come here,” you softly invited. 

It hadn’t escaped you how the brutish old man knew how to be obedient. He was practically wrapped around Sister Brigid’s finger, as well as the children. It charmed you. Initially, Randolph chose to stand stoically near you, but the shiver raking through him made him give in and sit close to the warmth. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Randolph began, grunting as he shifted into a comfortable position. “I saw the fire from my chambers and came out to see if it was unattended.”

“There were more of us out here earlier watching the moon. Something compelled me to stay out here, though I can’t tell you what it was.” 

“Hmm.” It was all he muttered before falling back into his typical silence. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his switch from the fire to the moon, and to you when he didn’t think you could see. Your hair was down, the way Randolph caught it that one moment. It swayed with the soft night breeze, framing your face in a way that let him see it clearly. 

“Perhaps I knew you’d be here,” you spoke again, quieter but still sweet. 

Randolph let out a dry grunt of a laugh. “What? Are you a witch?”

You spotted the faintest smile stretch across his face as you echoed the chuckle. He could have been a handsome man years before, you thought.  “Oh, I am, Randolph. This priory is nothing but a coven ready to put you under a spell,” you jested. 

“Perhaps you already have, dove.” 

Your breath hitched at the tenderness in his voice, in his gaze. It grounded you for a moment, making you remember your own propriety, despite the flames in your core starting to scorch.

 “A man of your age never took a wife? Or have you lost your sweeting?”

Randolph scowled, sensing the wall you had just put up around yourself. He took another breath. “Nay, never felt any desire. Nor do I believe a lady was foolish enough even to consider it.” 

You knew so little about Randolph; most of the priory didn’t know as much either. You had done your best to pester Sister Brigid for any intel, but nothing. He had arrived on the island terribly wounded, at death’s door, like he had just battled a giant and he was skilled with a bow and arrow. That was all you knew. This was no man who led a sweeping romantic life; something more brutal, all too telling with each scar and bruise you could see mapping his body. 

“There’s another fire burning within you. I can tell,” you hummed. 

He shivered, either from the night chill or from your words. “What stokes the flame then?” 

Your cheeks colored at Randolph's attempt at flattery. It had been so long since you experienced any, and you wondered how long it had been for him as well. “When you pick up that bow, when you skin the rabbits you trap. Something else sates you entirely.”

His tired eyes shifted into something darker, like you were conjuring out the beast that lived within his chest. Randolph questioned you again, “And what is it?” 

You were no stranger to the brutality men were capable of. Too many instances of it were what led you to take refuge in the Priory. A man who nearly died of such brutal wounds must have been violent himself. You should have been frightened of him, but somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to be. 

“Blood,” you stated firmly, defiantly. “Your hands are covered in it, Randolph.” 

You heard another sharp breath and let your eyes travel down to his hands. They were both balled into tight fists, restraining something begging to be unleashed. You wondered if he was going to attempt to scare you off, but you stayed. Daring to move closer to the hostile beast, you gently placed a hand atop his shoulder. “But there’s a warmth to you, though you try to hide it. The way you are with little Margaret… I know there’s a heart buried under all that stone.” 

Randolph scoffed, as if you had uttered the most stupid words. You nearly regretted them until you felt the coarse flesh of his palm touch yours to return it to your side gently. “It beats for nothing, no one.”

Another attempt to have you flee, though his hand was then resting so close to yours. There was no way of telling if this was a tease or a truth, but it compelled you regardless. 

You continued with a laugh, “Oh, Sister Brigid was so wrong. You don’t lie very well.”

The dusty gray hair coating his face did well in hiding the smirk trying to peek through. It was a dangerous game you were playing, being so teasing and cloying for such a stranger. It had led you down treacherous paths before, but you found yourself trusting Randolph as you took more daring steps. 

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Randolph replied. 

“Your heart beats for nothing. But there’s a reason you’re out here, is there not?” You asked. You shifted even closer, face mere inches away from his, but he allowed it. Curiosity was the only thing marking his expression, no fear or anger. 

He scoffed again, but not as cruelly as he did before, as he cleared his throat to speak again. “The fire, foolish girl-” 

“The wind would have put out the fire, Randolph,” you interrupted, shortening the remaining space between you both. “You’re here for a reason, same reason you were watching me in the orchard the day prior.” 

You had managed to make a small fraction of that stony exterior crumble. You watched his breath hitch, and his body start to tense even more. Whatever pull he felt towards you started to seep further into your soul, tugging you more and more to give in. But did Randolph want you to? Had you conjured this attraction all in your head? All you could do was try to get him to surrender to it if the feelings were true. 

It was like there was a wounded wolf within your grasp, too weak to attack despite its best attempt to evoke fear in you. You dared to soothe him, letting trembling fingers travel up to rest upon his cheek. His eyes were so mournful as you turned his head to yours, beard scratchy against your palm, and body leaning slightly into your touch. Randolph began to whisper, “A maiden as fair as thee has no business being hidden away in a Priory such as this.” 

“There’s safety here. Comfort,” you countered, “Even for a brute like you.” 

It wasn’t your intention to have such venom in your words, but it stung him nonetheless. You let out a soft sigh as a balm, letting your other hand cradle the other side of his face. There was no telling when he had last received any amount of gentleness or warmth. Your heart ached for the poor wild creature, but not out of pity. You understood the fire behind those dark eyes, the scars running down his form.  “You deserve a night of comfort, do you not?” 

Shaky hands encircled your waist, pulling you in closer and closer until you were straddling his lap. Randolph took in your scent, letting his nose burrow into your right wrist before letting out a laugh, “Nay. Well deserved if I never have a moment of it again.” 

Another attempt at trying to frighten you off, but you stayed just as he did. You grew restless, ready to end the prattle and surrender to the hunger plaguing you both. But still, you remained gentle. 

With a brave kiss upon his brow, you spoke again, “But I’d like to grant you one regardless.”

His grip around your waist tightened to pull you in closer. You cooed softly, lips still ghosting above his skin. Randolph was brought to his heel, overcome with each amount of tenderness another kiss to his forehead and down to his temple. There wasn’t any moment to linger. Like lightning, Randolph’s hand gripped the back of your neck quickly, pulling you in to crash his mouth against yours. 

Your needy moans contrasted his dark and hungry ones. Randolph held you so tightly, kissed you so ravenously, as if death would finally snatch him if he were to let you go. He was ready to swallow all your sweet whimpers with his greedy tongue, consuming more and more as his fingers moved to untie your bodice. 

Each kiss grew softer as his hands struggled to undo the tight strings, drawing an aggravated hiss from Randolph as his full attention shifted to loosening the ties. A laugh slipped through your nose while you watched him fight the urge to tear the garment off you. 

“Have peace, Randolph,” you soothed. Gently, you moved his hands back down to your waist while you came to his aid. Muscle memory had the garment off you within seconds, exposing you a little more to the chill in the air. The thin fabric of your chemise allowed Randolph a slight glimpse of the shape of your body, eyes drifting up from the top of your breasts peeking out of the top back to your lips. 

“No Randolph,” he snarled, licking his chops like a starved beast. “Robin.”

Robin. 

It was no shock he was a man hiding a bounty of secrets, evident by the wall he had built around himself. He was likely the dangerous man you’d heard whispers of around the priory and the one the back of your brain was screaming at you to flee from. You cared for none of it; it compelled you more than anything. A man with such darkness marring his heart sat there holding you tenderly, desperately, and pressed feather-light kisses atop your sternum. Perhaps the lust was fire gone, and a new hunger was there for something cloying like the honey flowing from your lips. 

“Mmm,” you hummed, his true name lingering on the tip of your tongue. He gave you no time to register it, too busy tugging at your chemise to expose your collarbone to nip at. 

“Do you desire me, Robin?” 

He froze at the sound of the two syllables, and his eyes shot back up to yours. Robin seemed caught, torn between whether he wanted to reveal more or less of himself to you. But you pulled him back under your spell before he could dwell on it more, bringing your lips to his with a gentleness. 

“More than you can imagine.” 

Such gravel in his words; they contrasted with the sweet sighs you continued to exhale. Robin adored inciting them with each move of his mouth and tongue. His hands grew daring at the same time, slinking down to bunch your skirt around your lap so he could pet your thighs, smooth his coarse hands around soft flesh. 

Robin was so hungry for you, ready to gnaw away down to the bone. His arousal tented his braies, teasing the apex of your thighs so deliciously. It was hard not to give in, to let your hips surrender to that sacred rhythm. You moaned out, “Derewothy Robin, I am yours.” 

The white linen of your chemise was torn over your head within an instant. You were all his then, bare and gripping Robin tighter for warmth to let him feed his desire. He clung to you with matching fervor, only allowing space for your hips to grind against the unforgiving hardness between his thighs. His fingers dug bluntly around your waist while he guided you, each digit feeling like fire burning into your flesh. Lust drowned out any remaining gentleness, though it didn’t concern you. The possessiveness was more palpable with each thrust, jolting electricity straight to your cunt. 

“Has there been another who’s made you this wet, dove?” Robin purred, pulling you back for a moment. 

You cried out in protest as you attempted to take back control. Robin simply laughed, shifting his eyes down to the damp spot atop his clothed lap. You shuddered, but whimpered still, so desperate to have that friction back. “N-Nay, sir.”  

He kissed each cheek as a maidenly blush colored them pink. “Made you bashful now, have I?” 

He granted you what you desired, giving you the freedom to grind your slick cunt along the ridge of his thick cock. Your palms were pressed firmly against his shoulders as you writhed, breathless and chest heaving. Robin fed into the temptation and let his face move downward to your chest. You sat up higher instinctively, silently pleading with him to feel his mouth again. The pad of his thumb moved to circle around your nipple, slow and teasing to coax out another moan from your lips. Your dazed eyes blinked back into focus for a moment to watch him and see how else he could pleasure you. The faintest smile stretched across Robin’s face as he caught your glance, and he did his best to conceal it as he dipped his head low. A skilled tongue replaced his teasing thumb, swirling round with such a slow ministration. 

“Never have I tasted anything so sweet,” Robin praised against your skin, bringing both hands up to knead the swell of your breasts. “Could die a happy man right now. Just like this.” 

“I can’t allow that yet. I need more of you, Robin,” you attempted to laugh, still too intoxicated on how you felt Robin on nearly every inch of your skin. 

His teeth tugged at the stiff peak with the next roll of your hips, bringing you closer and closer to letting go for him. You moaned and arched in his firm hold; hands finding purchase in his coarse and wild gray locks. “I need you, Robin,” you pleaded again. “I’ll go mad if you dare stop.” 

“Oh, I shan’t.” Robin’s lips moved to your other breast, latching quickly to paint a little purple bruise. “But will you come for me? Will you scream out my true name for the entire Priory to hear?” 

With the little strength he had, his own hips bucked up seeking more friction for himself, more contact. You must have been the most hypnotizing sight for him; he couldn’t take his eyes off of the way your body moved so feverishly. The wave of pleasure crashed upon you with a choked cry into his ear rather than wailing it out into the night. Your body convulsed like it truly were on fire while you clung to him, clit throbbing against damp fabric, and legs shaking. You still wanted more, and Robin did his best to soothe you. 

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he began, voice the softest you ever heard it. Both hands ran up and down your back while you came down, humming while he inhaled your scent now that he was drowning in it. 

“Robin…” It was all you could muster. You never felt so content in such a wicked man’s arms. No fear gripped you, just your own hunger still teeming, along with your curiosity. You doted on a million questions for him, all on his past and present. None could be asked then; you knew that. Not when his body felt so relaxed against you, hot too, so warm that you nearly had forgotten about the winter air around your bare form. 

“Your moon is still high,” Robin finally spoke again. 

“It is,” you echoed innocently, looking up to see the full moon still lingering overhead in the late night. It was bright enough to rival the fire still burning strongly behind you with its ghostly silver light. It reminded you of him.

“Do you still need me, dove?” 

You dreaded the thought of returning to the coldness of your chambers, not with the way Robin gazed upon you, or with the way he kept you close, so safe. “More than breathing.”

With a soft kiss, Robin moved you both to lie down close to the fire. He watched as your sweat glistened skin gleamed against the embers, eyes not leaving you while he wrestled out of his tunic. Taut muscle hid under his fresh bandages, along with a thick patch of wiry gray hair dusting his chest. He truly was a brute disguising himself as a dying old man. He worked off his bries next, revealing his thick length still staining and hard for you. 

He propped himself on his knees, then, while you stayed lying on your back, body stretched out and writhing like a sweet offering for him. Robin’s eyes stayed on yours, however, hazel eyes almost appearing coal black against the dark and flames. The monster within him had every opportunity to burst out of his chest to ravage you in any way it pleased, touch still tender as one hand petted your thigh and the other traveled to the base of his cock. 

“Come back to me, Robin,” you pleaded softly, arching upward for him. 

His only response was a restrained growl, hips rutting into his tight fist while he drank in the sight of you. You moved to sit up, to touch him yourself, but his gentle hand on you grew firm, signaling you to stay still. “Lie on your belly, girl,” Robin commanded then. 

You obeyed with a whimper. Your arms stretched above you as you propped your head up, keeping your gaze fixed upon him. Your imploring eyes fed his hunger; you could tell. Robin stayed satisfying himself, slow strokes turned hurried while his free hand gripped the plump skin of your ass. All you could do was remain still, be the perfect vision to sate him, kittenish sighs and teasing twitches from your body. 

Robin couldn't resist any longer. His touch left you for a moment, only for it to return as you felt his body hover above yours. He kissed a trail up your spine, soft and delicate, before sinking his teeth into your shoulder. “You desire me? This brute of a man? I could cut your throat as easily as I could fuck you.” 

“You wouldn’t,” you countered immediately, knowing it was one more attempt to have you flee. The scratchiness of his beard tickled your face as you nuzzled into it. “I don’t fear you, Robin.” 

“Brave girl. I pray I never make you regret those words.” 

There was silence for a moment while Robin positioned himself comfortably atop you. You aided him, hiking your left leg to give him the access you desired; his member was warm while it brushed over slick thighs. You finally did cry out once his tip brushed over your folds. The simple touch immediately had your fingers clawing at the blanket below you, something to hold onto. Once more, you felt as if you were going mad. 

“I have you, dove,” Robin soothed again. He eased inside you gently and unhurried, more to protect his broken form over yours. Shallow grunts filled your ear as he filled your wet heat, cursing and blessing your tightness. And you bent like a bow for him, to do your best to sheathe all of him that you could. 

Robin smelled of earth and fire while he drove long, deep strokes into your velvet walls. His vigor rose with each thrust, each cry he could conjure out of you. It had been so long since you had been filled in such a way, to feel so consumed. But there was a closeness you missed as well, something that was present there with Robin. Did he feel it as well?

You prayed he did. Each sharp buck of his hips made your body bounce away, but he would always return to you with a hard impale back onto his aching cock. You loved the feel of him, worn but still so filled with such strength. Robin delighted in feeling you move beneath him, aiding him once more in feeding him that sweet honey he so desired. 

“Taking it all so well. What have I done to deserve such a beautiful thing?” he rasped, painting you with his sweat when his face grazed your temple. 

Something good, you hoped. He had vanquished your sense of loneliness, in his own way. You didn’t know how you could ever go without this feeling again. The feel of his hair brushing against you, the beads of sweat mingling with yours. Perhaps he had you under a spell. “I don’t want you to stop, Robin. Please…”

“You have me so close, sweet girl. But I shan’t leave you.” 

He was rocking deeply within you then, stones slapping against the underside of your thighs with each thrust. Your bodies felt truly like one as his fingers entwined with yours and your back molded so perfectly against his chest. Hard and unrelenting, Robin wrung another orgasm out of you, finally making you cry out into the night sky. You let each star twinkle above his true name, and he followed shortly after, roaring out his climax above you. You clenched tight around him still as he spilled his seed into you, letting him mark your cunt as his true sanctuary. He was yours, in every sense.

You whispered his name over and over after, like a little prayer. Robin graced you with a small kiss on your temple and cheek with each utterance of his name, tremors shaking through his form above you while he lingered. So easily you could have surrendered to slumber right then with him, to keep that warmth near until the sun rose. But you felt him shift then, pulling out and away to position himself back on his knees. 

“We shall catch our deaths if we remain out here,” Robin spoke plainly. 

You simply laughed. Such eloquent words after such a ravenous moment. But he was right; the fire was beginning to dwindle and the midnight wind began to swell stronger. You wished to steal away with him elsewhere, but you knew it wasn’t possible. The Priory beckoned you both to return. 

Clearing his throat, Robin spoke again. “Let me tend to you, and I shall walk you to your chambers.”

Robin blindly grabbed his robe, fetching out a cloth from its pocket. He helped you sit up with that same tenderness he showed before. Your bones felt like liquid as you stretched out, body tired too. You shuddered once you felt the soft fabric between your legs to swipe away the mess he left, still doing his best to be gentle. He kissed your knee to soothe the whimpers bubbling in your throat, only to feel a teasing thumb pet your swollen clit, just to see you bend and break for him again.

“I-” you breathed out, trying not to surrender to the feel. “You’re right. We must return.” 

He laughed dryly with a nod, and offered a hand to help you rise to your feet. Robin helped you dress and let you tend to that damned bodice while he put out the fire. The still bright moon lit your way back to the church grounds. Neither of you spoke, returning to that comfortable and familiar silence. It pained you once you arrived at the door of your bedchamber. You didn’t let go of Robin’s hand as you finally spoke. “I pray you shall sleep well tonight, Robin.” 

Robin took a breath, eyes imploring while he clutched your hand tight. It was like testing the weight of your words, hoping they would manifest a well-rested night. He smiled at you then, a genuine one you believed was only reserved for Sister Brigid and little Margaret. 

“You as well, dove.” 

It hurt like a wound once he let go of your hand and limped back into the darkness of the hallway. You prayed that once you returned to your bed, you would slumber promptly, to let his scent still clinging to you lull you into it. 

You were awake and dressed by the time the morning sun was pouring into your chambers. There wasn’t any time to ponder the night before as you set out for your day’s tasks, though Robin managed to sneak his way into your mind at the slightest distraction. 

Back in the orchard, you were busy gathering more violets. An injured boy had arrived at the Priory hours before, and Sister Brigid had tasked you to harvest more along with some milk thistle for medicine. It was another warm day, the sun beaming down on you while you worked. You longed for spring to arrive, to have shade once the trees started to come back to life, to see the entire orchard come back to life, really. 

Crack!

Your vision of spring was shattered once you heard a dry fallen branch break. You smiled to yourself as you heard it. Your eyes turned to find the disruption, and as you predicted, you saw Robin a few feet away. That usual long streak of silver hair framing his face swayed in the breeze, and his face was unreadable as always. You didn’t ignore him this time, nor wait for him to scurry off. 

The afternoon sun revealed the color that returned to his face, and tired eyes seemed rested. You smiled warmly at him once you sat up properly. “Are you done trapping for the day?” 

Robin simply nodded, taking slow steps towards you. 

“Well,” you began, letting that cloying sweetness return to your voice. “I could use the help if you’re able.”