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“Almost finished, sir.” She smiled and slammed her ass down one more time on my chaplain.
As Tuck grunted and twitched, he looked around her hips at me. “Apologies, John. She’s incorrigible, this one.”
“Yes,” I drawled, “I’m sure you put up such a fight.”
He bared his cheery grin at me, cheeks flushing. “There are worse ways to wake up.”
I shook my head and turned away, having seen enough. Marian and Tuck were not a new occurrence. I hoped the friar knew what he was doing. I was of the mind Tuck was not Maid Marian’s only riding partner.
As I turned, I caught a glimpse of Marian standing from the friar’s prone body, with the friar’s cum dripping out of her, down her legs.
She waltzed by with a contented sigh, flattening her dress, and patted my shoulder. “I suppose it’s my turn to bathe in the river, sir.”
I watched her disappear into the foliage, before standing over Tuck and offering my hand.
Tuck, erm, tucked himself away, and took my hand.
I grunted as I took his weight and helped him stand. “You feel heavier, man. Gorging yourself on flesh and meat and mead will do that.”
“Many thanks, lad,” he said as he stumbled to his feet. Stretching, the friar yawned and lifted his arms over his head. “Can you blame a man, John? That succubus keeps me feeling young.”
“She keeps you in her pocket even more, Tuck. Be careful with that one.”
He smiled, arranging his habit and strolling past me. “You worry too much, old friend. I’ll be fine.”
We walked into the camp and spied from afar. A few men sat around an ashen campfire, making food. We watched as Will Scarlet, off to the side, sliced his sword at a bevy of branches—an interesting target for his righteous indignation—growling the entire time.
“No, it’s not me you have to concern yourself with, John. It’s that angry, tempestuous boy.” Tuck pointed at young Will in the distance. “Always wakes up like someone pissed in his soup.”
I tilted my head, watching in stupefaction. “What the fuck is he attacking, you think?”
“His own nightmares and insecurities, John. That boy needs Christ just as much as our oversexed maiden at the river.”
I snorted, smirking. “Don’t think that’ll go over well, Tuck. With either of them.”
“Well, I’ll pray for their eternal souls.”
Everything that came out of Friar Tuck’s mouth had to be taken with a fair dose of salt. How could a man stay holy and steadfast in his faith after urinating on a man’s unconscious body, robbing him blind, fucking a woman against the alley wall, and doing it again before his eyes had even opened this morning?
It took a certain amount of cold indifference and twisted understanding of himself. His confidence in his creed, his optimism in his worthiness and virtue, was something that always baffled me.
I suppose he justifies it by confessing his sins and ridding himself of them nightly.
On one hand, Tuck was unfathomably faulty. On the other, he was the backbone of Nottingham’s largest almshouse. An orphanage for homeless boys and girls. He treated those children like saints.
I would never understand the puzzle that was Friar Tuck, and I had long ago stopped trying. He never ceased to amaze me.
Taking the lead, I barged into the clearing and started kicking men’s legs and arms, waking them from their slumber. They scowled and growled, but then saw who was rousing them, and fell in line.
I went to Will Scarlet last, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder—almost earning a slice from his sword as he wheeled around.
“The branch is dead, Will. You’ve won.”
He frowned at me. Then he blinked, like he didn’t know where he was. “Sorry.”
I jumped onto a low branch of a nearby oak tree, to get higher than all the Merry Men. We had a dozen men here, and twice that number in other parts of the woods.
Holding onto a branch, the waking group turned to stare up at me, arms folded, wondering why I had woken them.
