Guy Gets His just deserts?

Guy's Slightly Bigger Problem.

Another from the challenge on Dreamer Fiction.

Guy’s Slightly Bigger Problem.

The big dishevelled man on the bed stirred, his nose twitched, and jaw flexed.

Matilda sucked in a grin. This was totally priceless, Guy of Gisbourne, the dark, dangerous, and delicious cocksman…all tied up, helpless and at her mercy.

Priceless.

Kneeling carefully beside the bed she leaned her elbows on the mattress, cupped her chin, and waited.

Guy stretched again, this time he sniffed, eyelids fluttered. And then he felt the tug of the ropes that held him. His eyes slammed open and an odd strangled growling sound escaped the gag wrapped in his mouth. “Wuupch!”

“Not too sure what that was, but I’m guessin’ yer not ‘appy?” Matilda wrinkled her nose in mock distaste. “Which would yer like first, the bad news, the really bad news, or sorta all right news?”

“Wuthhuumnwphfoooba!”

“That’ll be really bad news then?” She smiled benignly. “Oh, all right, but yer forced it outta me. Hmmm, well it looks like yer little sister don’t like yer much. She rode off about an hour ago to Nottin’ham. Gonna give yer to the prince as a prezzie for ‘is coronation. She seems to think Prinny’s gonna make ‘er sheriff on the strength of it?”

Guy’s rage was incandescent; he spluttered though the gag and positively bounced off the bed.

Matilda just smiled and rested her cheek against her palm once again. Guy having a paddy was awe-inspiring, and she was going to relish every second.

He pounded his arms on the bed like a child in a tantrum, gnawed the twist of grey rag in his mouth, all the while making noises akin to a sow in labour.

“The bad news is I think she’s probably right, she’s likely our next sheriff." then she coughed delicately. "The ‘all right news’ is...she got her valerian from me.” Matilda dusted imaginary dirt from the coverlet and pulled a sad, but knowing face. “Wasn’t me best, bit weak really.” She brightened then. “I told ‘er it’d knock out an ‘orse…it wouldn’t, I lied.” She smiled up at him sweetly. “You were out long enough for ‘Lady Gotasquibupherarse’ to bugger off to Prinnypoo.” She ran a very deliberate finger up over his buckles, skimming his delightfully bobbing Adam’s apple. “Take ‘er a good couple of hours to reach Nottin’ham. ‘Another three to get Prinny to pay attention then get back ‘ere.” Wriggling forward expectantly, she swept a stray lock of hair behind his ear and glanced casually down at his lacings. “Yer might even ‘ave time for a ‘ta very much’ shag?”

“Fuuuuckyaaaaanow?”

“If yer promise not to scream I’ll take the rag outta yer gob. I’d not want folk thinkin’ I was takin’ advantage of yer.”

Guy made a sound that could have been acquiescence or just snarling noises, Matilda wasn’t quite sure, but took the chance anyway.

Spitting and sounding off a string of oaths that would make several sailors blush; Guy struggled harder against the ropes. “If you don’t release me, witch, I’ll...I’ll… Uhggr!” Lost for real words Guy resorted to more seething snarls and growls.

“Or you’ll what, roar at me, hit me with your rhythm stick?” Matilda waggled her eyebrows. She really ought to have worked out an escape plan but the thought of a little of the ‘Gisbourne Rhythm’ just keep sneaking back into her mind.

Guy’s breathing was slowing to a heavy swell, not exactly calm, but possibly getting there. “I am grateful for your assistance Mistress Matilda. I would be even more grateful if you’d fucking well untie me!” He lunged forward as far as the thick cords would let him.