Dashing Pirate Rescue
The Tower
Killian could barely keep his grasp on his flask, far too distracted by the sensations his chosen companion for the evening was making between his legs. His eyes closed, a groan tumbled from his lips as he bucked his hard length into her accepting mouth. With his hand tangled in her hair, he pressed himself eagerly between her lips. "That's it. There's a good lass." He hummed in approval as she swallowed around the base of his cock. He continued to rut into her mouth, brushing the hair on top of her head, watching in delight as her cheeks reddened and her eyes shined with tears.
He tried to steady himself, grasping her head to hold her to him causing her to panic around him. "Fuck." He murmured, raising his flask to his lips and taking a long swig of its contents. "Come on, take my cock like the greedy whore you are." He punctuated his obscene words with a firm thrust of his hips.
She coughed around him, wincing, her nose running into the nestle of black curls resting above his shaft. She whined around him in protest but he held her to him, fucking her mouth with abandon until he cried out, releasing himself inside her.
"That's it. Suck me dry." He encouraged, darkly, coaxing her to receive his offering as she cried around him, shaking as she was forced to swallow his climax. He forced her up by her hair with a yelp, retracting himself from her sweet little mouth to appraise her carefully. He narrowed his gaze, watching the woman whimper desperately, fighting in his hold. He admired her darkly, her swollen lips covered in his release as she clamped her legs shut to relieve some of the pressure that had built up from her efforts to please him.
"Just look at you… despicable. So hot for my cock that you would do just about anything to have it. I bet you are absolutely dripping for me. So eager to please. Do you even deserve it?" He smirked deviantly, heat rising in his cheeks.
"Please…" She begged hoarsely.
"Please what?" He teased mercilessly.
"Please let me have your cock." She requested, wriggling in his grasp.
"Well since you asked me so nicely…" He relented, dropping her back on to her knees in front of him. "And what do we say?" He asked, seizing her chin in his hand.
"Thank you Captain." She shook with desire.
"Get on the bed before I change my mind…" He commanded authoritatively, nodding toward the large bed in the center of the room.
She scurried off to do as she was told and situated herself on her hands and knees, her ass hanging high in the air in anticipation for him.
He popped the top of his flask, taking another generous sip before giving his cock a few teasing thrusts in his hand and moved to join her.
The bed dipped as he settled himself behind her, his cock sliding between her folds, prodding her opening teasingly as she cried in frustration. Killian pressed his hand against the center of her back, pushing her down hard until she whimpered. He smiled sinisterly, gripping her hip in his hand as he slammed hard, sheathing himself inside her in a single thrust.
His mouth parted in reverence, her cunt receiving him like a friend, her walls gripping him tightly. "Worth every penny." He gave her a harsh slap of ownership before he wrapped her hair around his hand, pulling her back toward him until her spine was arched, her body flushed with his.
Killian growled lowly, thrusting himself in and out of her warm depths with a punishing pace, their bodies slapping together as she screamed out in pleasure. "Yes, let me hear what I do to you."
He penetrated her deeply, her cunt swallowing him fully with every push and pull inside her. He squeezed her hip drawing a moan from her lips as she fucked back against him, yelling out for more. He obliged, slamming himself inside her mercilessly until he felt the pressure building within.
He began to pant harshly, on the brink of climax when there was a knock at the door. Killian closed his eyes in annoyance, growling in frustration. "Bugger off." He yelled at the intrusion, rutting into the wench cursing his name.
Knock. Knock.
"Your persistence will get you nowhere." He warned, gritting his teeth. He turned his attention back to his task and hissed at the woman looking in the direction of the door expectantly, her actions against him halted. "Did I say you could stop?" He tormented, aggressively snapping his hips against her in search of release.
He allowed himself to get back into it, his muscles flexing with his impending orgasm when there was another insistent knock on the door. He sneered in annoyance, withdrawing himself swiftly from his companion. "Stay here." He instructed her, tearing off toward his discarded leather trousers to retrieve a dagger.
The woman shuttered, her chest rising and falling with fear as she looked on.
He shook in aggravation, his hand closed around the wooden handle of the knife while his other hand stilled on the door handle, preparing himself to receive his guest. Killian breathed in deeply, his eyes cold and calculating as he pushed the door open to see his first mate standing at the threshold, his mouth open widely in shock.
Killian thrust the sharpened blade against the sniveling man's neck, scowling as he dug it into his neck threateningly. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't end your life now?" He twisted the blade, drawing a bit of blood from the deepening wound.
Smee's eyes widened in terror as he flung his hands around his captain's arm to silently beg for his life. "Please…" He shuttered weakly.
Killian rolled his eyes, removing the dagger to allow the man to speak. "This better be good." He barked with caution. "I am a very impatient man."
Smee sagged, holding his knees as he coughed and sputtered, trying to catch his breath.
"Well?" Killian asked, his fingers twitching against the hilt of the dagger in his hand. "Don't make me regret this Smee… out with it!"
Smee released short ragged breaths, looking at his captain in pain as the blood dripped from his neck. He produced a flyer in his trembling hand, drops of smeared blood covering some of the lettering.
Killian seized it with a huff and slammed the door carelessly behind him as the man on the other side struggled to get his bearings. He turned his back toward the door, reviewing the contents of the flyer with a drawing of a young woman dominating the majority of the parchment. It read:
Reward!
Queen Snow and King David are paying a handsome reward for the safe return of their daughter and heir, Princess Emma of Ithria.
He looked over the page, his eyes trained at the image of the captivating woman, her eyes piercing his from just her painting.
He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, releasing a shaky breath as he inwardly cursed himself. He whirled around, throwing the door open to shove the parchment unexpectedly into the chest of his first mate.
"When shall we depart sir?" He wondered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he heaved.
"We set sail in the morning." He commanded and moved to close the door when he was halted by the man's hand darting out between the door crack.
"There is something you should know sir." He spoke up softly.
"There always is. Let's have it?" He beckoned with a crook of his fingers.
"She isn't missing sir. They know exactly where she is." He informed him, the new information peaking his interest.
"Go on…" He curiously allowed it.
"She is being held in a tower, which is rumored to be guarded by the most fearsome of deadly creatures. No one has been able to reach her since she was placed there seven years ago. Several have attempted to free her, but all have been unsuccessful at the cost of their lives." He explained gravely. "This is an open call to the kingdom for help. We will have competition."
The corner's of his lips turned up into a fearsome smile and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. "Well Mr. Smee… you and I both know… I love a challenge."
And with that he closed the door and motioned to the woman spread out on the bed, a hand between her legs to relieve the growing ache between them. "Get out of here!" He growled.
She bulked at him, her eyes widening with fear as she scrambled off the bed and silently collected her clothing scattered across the floor.
Killian traced the princess's picture in his hand, his gaze penetrating the features of her angelic face. "Princess Emma…" He rasped in recognition.
He was still noticeably hard when the wench had left leaving him unfulfilled and unsatisfied. He sighed, padding through the room until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He placed the flyer on top of the mattress as he gripped himself in his hand. He stroked himself with long langid passes of his hand, his thumb gliding along his shaft as he stared at the picture of the young princess.
He allowed himself to think about what it would be like being buried deep inside her virginal walls, violating her innocence as she cried out his name in pleasure. She would be incredibly tight, her walls hugging him without mercy as she accepted his cock inside her.
He panted, his mouth going slack as he tumbled forward on his shaky stance, his orgasm rippling through him as he pumped himself, soaking himself in warm jets of come until he was spent. He plopped down onto the bed in front of him, tearing at the duvet, burying his face in the mattress as he screamed out in frustration.
Killian staggered up the gangplank, his hand cupping the railing as his long leather trench fluttered behind him.
"Captain!" Smee noted in surprise at his captain's presence as soon as he stepped onto the deck. "I assume you slept well?" He asked.
"Aye. No thanks to you." He aggressed, pushing his finger into the man's chest until he was knocked off balance.
"My apologies for interrupting you sir. It required immediate attention if we were going to try and get a leg up on those that wish to secure the prize before us!" He defended.
"This better be a hell of a take Mr. Smee." He warned.
Smee gulped and nodded his head fervently.
"I will take your word for now but if I am proven wrong I am demoting you." He threatened, glaring at his first mate. "Martin!" He shrieked, calling over his boatswain for a report on the state of their supplies.
Martin nodded toward him, jogging over to his captain.
"Talk to me." Killian crooked his fingers for him to speak.
"We are fully stocked, Captain Jones. We have enough rations for several months and the casks of ale and rum should tide the men over until we reach the nearest port." He informed him.
Killian stroked his jaw in thought, taking in what was just said to him. "This will be a straight shot to our destination. We won't be stopping so you better be sure we have enough. And as for the artillery?" He wondered.
"Aye sir. We have replenished the muskets and have plenty of gunpowder shall we find ourselves in need for it." He provided.
"Excellent. See to it that the master gunner is prepared. We don't know what situation we are walking into when we arrive." He reminded him sternly. "Sailing Master! Chart a course to Ithria to get ourselves a princess…"
"Aye captain." His sailing master, Gregory, affirmed, his hands poised on the helm of the ship as his deckhands adjusted the riggings and lowered the sails for departure.
"Weigh anchor. Let's take her out to sea." Killian called out sharply in command.
It took less than a fortnight to reach the kingdom of Ithria.
They parked the vessel in the nearest fishing town, leaving the Jolly in the hands of his Quartermaster while taking a small fleet of men to make the journey inland to find out where the tower holding the princess was located.
It took them nearly a week before they were able to get a lead on the location of the tower. They moved through town after town with not as much as an acknowledgement of what it was they were searching for. It seemed that after years of separation from its rulers, most had forgotten the ill-fate that had befallen the royal family.
The sprawling kingdom of Ithria had been ruled by the Charming family for just over a decade before they were mercilessly unseated from the throne nearly seven years prior. No one seemed to know who was responsible for the upheaval and many refused to speak of it.
The kingdom itself was almost completely landlocked with a few small port towns surrounding the ocean. The land stretched on for miles and miles — seemingly endless to the discerning eye.
From what they gleaned from the townsfolk, Killian determined that it would be a long and grueling trip to find the forgotten princess of Ithria. They carefully planned their route, choosing to approach from the left side of the kingdom where the castle was rumored to be.
They trekked inland for several weeks, stopping to make camp each night to rest up for the rest of their trip. After nearly three weeks, they finally spotted it — sitting just beyond a few sprawling mountains was the peak of a tall imposing tower stretching up toward the sky to the point where he could swear it touched the clouds.
Killian lowered his spyglass, collapsing it in his hand before addressing the rest of his crew. "It is but a day's journey from here. Let's make camp for the night and tomorrow we storm the castle…" He instructed.
He tossed and turned that night, sleep evading him like a cruel mistress as his mind flooded with thoughts of the princess. This was just another prize, he tried to remind himself to little avail. His cock throbbed violently, the urge to take himself in hand and stroke himself to completion unbearable. He tried to resist but surrendered himself to his pleasure, her name tumbling from his lips as he released himself hotly in his hand.
He had yet to lay eyes on her and already she was a stubborn pain in his ass. He only hoped that the voyage to return her back to her kingdom was more fulfilling. However, he would stake his life that her "safe return" implied that she was meant to be intact when handed over to her parents. He growled in frustration, carding his fingers through his ruffled hair. He gave himself over to sleep, snoring softly until he was awoken at the first sign of light.
They packed up camp and trekked through the woods, avoiding the elements of nature that threatened to derail them. Killian grasped his compass in his hand, using it to guide them forward, his men holding back until he gave them the order to press on.
It was midday when they reached the clearing leading up to the castle. They stopped dead in their tracks, lowering their gear at the sight of the decrepit castle. The once great royal temple had seen better days. There were missing bricks, shattered windows, and scorched walls.
Killian opened and closed his mouth, spinning himself around with a flourish to face his crew. "I don't expect any of you to risk their lives for this prize. We are walking into certain death. Any man unwilling to continue on will be pardoned and be allowed to leave of his own volition." He met the stares of his men, reading them for any sign of hesitation.
When none of them moved to leave, standing resolutely waiting for his next direction. Killian smiled fearsomely at their loyalty and pursed his lips in thought. "We have no idea what we are walking into but according to our intel the staircase leading up into the tower is on the far right side of the castle. We need to make it there before we lose our lives or worse… mine." He assessed. "I want to send out a scouting party to suss out anything amiss. Do we have any volunteers?"
Two men raised their hands, followed by three more — a little less than half of his crew would be making the journey into the depths of the castle to formulate a plan for their assault. "I appreciate your sacrifice. May your efforts be fruitful." He nodded his thanks.
The men emerged from the castle a fair distance away an hour later on horses. Killian raised a curious brow at the scene of the men galloping toward him on horseback — no doubt left behind by the last men who had ventured into the castle to rescue the damsel. He placed his hand on his belt buckle in wait, observing them as they headed toward him and the rest of their search party.
"What the devil is this?" He demanded, his hand jutting out to seize the reign of the horse to steady it as it bucked wildly. Only three of them had returned, two of them with welts covering their angry red faces — they had been badly burned.
"We…" The more capable man opened his mouth to speak, panting rapidly as he tried to speak. "The castle… it's guarded."
"I assumed it would be well guarded but who or better yet what is it guarded by?" He inquired.
"A dragon sire. A nasty beast." He replied, his expression dropping with fear as the horse whined and stampd its feet impatiently. "We were lucky to make it out alive. It is quite impossible. The entire castle is littered with the charred bodies of the dead." He relayed to his captain. "I mean no disrespect sir but I think it is best to call it off. We don't stand a chance against it. No woman is worth being burned to death!" He insisted.
"I'm the captain!" Killian bellowed. "I give the orders! And if any man wishes to leave me now he can do so! But once we are in there, there is no backing out. Ready your weapons, we leave in half an hour." He commanded.
Some time later Killian, flanked by his men, carefully entered through the opened drawbridge with cautious noiseless footsteps, taking care to not give away their position to the treacherous monster inside the castle. "Keep your eyes peeled. At first sight of the dragon, take cover. Its first instinct will be to burn us where we stand." He reminded them, a head out to steady himself as the other gripped the hilt of his cutlass.
Kilian felt the brittle bones of those before him crack and give underneath his weight, wincing as he stepped, trying to maneuver around them to not raise suspicion. He could hardly tear his eyes away from the charred remains of the soldiers and knights that had risked everything for the princess.
Must be a hell of a score.
He gracefully traced through a long stretch of hallway leading out into a grand ballroom where two thrones sat at the end. Killian canted his head toward them with curiosity, approaching them cautiously to inspect them. He stopped just before the thrones, taking in the remnants of their charred structures. He could barely make out the faded family crest that used to sit proudly on the back cushion. It was white with several flowers, a lion perched proudly below them. He bowed his head in recognition and swallowed hard. "This was their palace."
"What happened to it?" One of his men wondered.
Killian turned around to face them, searching their eyes. "Death." He stated gravely. "We need to keep moving. The longer we stay still the easier it will be for the dragon to track us."
"Captain…" One of the men stammered, his eyes wide as he lifted a trembling hand behind where his captain stood.
Killian whirled around, searching around him until his eyes fell upon the scaly silhouette of the deadly creature, its eyes darting to each of the men as if it was deciding who to go after first. It slid down, planting its feet causing the floor to rumble beneath them.
He tried to steady himself as the walls around them creaked and groaned with the force of its descent, rubble falling and cracking around them. He chanced another glance at his enemy, its eyes dark and clouded with murderous intent. It got up on its back legs, bucking as it roared in fury before crashing back down and opening its gigantic mouth to ready itself for attack.
There was a rumble as it opened its mouth and summoned its fire. Looking down its throat he could see the flames bubbling forth, soaring through it until it released it. He could see the reflection of the embers in his eyes as his crew was torched in front of him.
Killian winced, shielding himself from the heat and the immediate smoke that filtered through the hall. He was alone and at this point was at the mercy of the dragon. While the dragon was distracted with finishing its prey, he scurried away, darting between the pillows of the great hall to hide from its unforgiving pursuit.
He looked over his shoulder cautiously, his palms brushing the stone pillar for purchase as he searched for the dragon. He sidestepped to his left and felt the ground begin to shake around him, sending the pillar he was perched against crumbling to the ground. He ran, sweat beading his brow as the dragon charged toward him. He ducked into a thick layer of rubble to avoid it's flame and braced himself for impact.
The brick disintegrated around him and rolled himself to avoid being impaled by any of the lingering rubble. Killian pressed his palms out, hoisting himself high enough to see the dragon looming over him.
He rose to his feet carefully, waddling to just barely miss another blast of the dragon's flames. Thick black smoke hung in the air and he coughed to its unyielding grasp on his lungs as he scrambled to find shelter. It was then that he realized that the dragon had managed to singe his signature leather duster. "Blast." He cursed, taking up sanctuary in a narrow corridor.
He couldn't keep carrying on like this. He needed to come up with a plan or he was going to be the next to suffer the ill fate of the dragon. He hid stealthily in the shadows of the small hallway, crushing the broken pieces of mirror littering the floor beneath him. He looked himself over, raising his arms to see the tears in his jacket that gave way to a myriad of fresh burns.
He winced in pain and brought his fist to his mouth to hide his cries of agony as he grazed the open wounds, inspecting his injuries. He shrugged off his jacket, the material falling into the glass on the floor to leave him in his leather pants, his black linen shirt bearing a generous amount of his chest, and his tight fitting black velvet vest. If he was going to have any chance of surviving this encounter he needed to be light on his feet and while the leather protected his sensitive flesh, it also slowed him down.
He assessed himself for further injuries and moved to wipe the sweat from his forehead when he noticed the streaks of blood on his forearm — he was bleeding from the impact of his fall. Killian licked his lips and shoved his hand into the back of his pants to remove the revolver he had stashed there.
He cocked the loaded pistol and pointed it toward the ceiling as he unsheathed his sword, extending it away from him as if waiting for the dragon's retaliation. He took a few cautious steps forward, coming out into the main hall, glancing around for any sign of the dragon's presence.
Sweat dripped from his forehead as he advanced, his pistol heavy in his raised hand, his grip steady on the hilt of his cutlass. He passed by a large opening to see the dragon tearing through the hall in search of him, crying out in frustration and not being able to find him.
He hurried through the hall until he reached a corner and positioned himself there. It was doing him no good to run from it, he was going to need a way to confront it without putting himself in immediate danger. Killian looked around for anything to assist him when his eyes fell on a shattered mirror on the far wall, the reflection of the dragon glinting in its rusted gaze.
He breathed shallowly, quickly formulating a plan to lure the dragon toward him when he had the advantage. He looked up, his aching head causing him to groan as he trained his eyes at the ceiling to see a broken chandelier shaking above him.
Killian bent his arm at the elbow, angling his pistol over his arm as he narrowed his gaze at his target before firing, sending the chandelier crashing to the floor. He could hear the rough footsteps of the dragon as it came over to investigate the sound. He watched as the dragon passed right by him, drawn to the noise of the chandelier.
He rushed quietly behind the dragon and punctured the tip of his sword into the dragon's tail.
It howled in pain as Killian retracted his sword, his blade dripping with the blood of the beast. It whirled around to face him, flapping its wings aggressively as it cried out a blood curdling scream.
He could see the flames building in its throat, the embers rising and threatening to escape when he lowered his revolver and pulled the trigger sending a shot hurtling toward the dragon's esophagitis.
There was a bright flash and Killian averted his gaze as the shot imploded, the flames erupting inside the dragon from the inside as it exploded. He watched as the creature moaned and stumbled from side to side until it wilted to the floor with a loud crash.
Killian panted hard, his sword falling from his hand as he sagged to the floor in relief. He had managed to vanquish the creature. He laid back in search of reprieve, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. He was alive.
The ordeal was enough to make him almost forget why he had come in the first place. The beast had kept him on the edge of his toes for far too long, depriving him of his dashing rescue for there was still the matter of the captive princess.
He allowed himself a few moments to get his bearings before standing back up on two feet. He sheathed his sword and returned his pistol. He jogged back over to where he left his leather jacket and grabbed it, procuring his flask. He removed the cap with his teeth and tipped it down his throat, chugging it to sate his thirst. He gasped, tearing his lips from the mouth of the flask before pouring some of its contents to his open wounds. He flinched, hissing in discomfort but endured the pain in order to keep his injuries clean until he could seek proper care.
He charged back to the hazy mirror in the hall, looking over his appearance and was displeased with what he found. His face was splotchy with ash from the dragon's flames, his hair stuck to his sweaty blood-streaked forehead. There was really nothing he could do at that moment. He relented to his reflection, shaking his head as he swept his leather jacket over his shoulders and returned his flask.
With that, he fixed his rumpled clothing and set off toward the right side of the castle in pursuit of the staircase that would lead him to his prize. He strode through the barren halls of the castle, its decrepit layers exposed to the air outside, paint and wallpaper peeling from the walls and everywhere he walked he stepped on a long lost object that was left behind in the fray.
What on earth happened here?
Quite frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Stepping through the castle he could imagine what it looked like in its former glory as the halls bustled with life. He came up on a long darkened corridor, the spiral metal staircase leading up into the castle within reach.
But it was now or never…
He released a long sigh, steeling himself before ascending the never ending staircase to the highest peak of the castle. By the time he reached the last few stairs he was huffing and puffing like an overweight elderly man. He grasped at his chest, coughing as he took the last steps to the landing where he was greeted by a large wooden door.
Killian reached out timidly, his hand ghosting the handle of the door, unsure of how to approach it. Should he knock? Announce his presence? He had been so occupied with the dragon that he barely gave his introduction with the princess any thought. Like the dragon, he had no idea what he was walking into.
He pressed his side to the door, lowering his ear to the wood to hear for the life inside. He couldn't hear a blasted thing behind the thick wood. He collected his nerves and released the handle, the door giving way with a loud audible creak. He walked through it, glancing around curiously to take in his surroundings.
Where the devil was she?
He spun around, searching until he fell upon a sleeping figure curled onto the bed.
Great. She was sleeping. Bloody fantastic.
He approached her carefully, his leather duster brushing the backs of his legs as he walked. He paused at the edge of the bed to view the princess in the throes of her peaceful slumber.
Killian hovered over her, taking in her beauty — the paleness of her soft skin, the faint flush in her cheeks, her long eyelashes fluttering as she dreamed, and her golden curls fanned out around her. He was absolutely entranced by the scent of her wafting toward him, her plump sumptuous lips twitching in her sleep and the slight curves of her body hidden underneath an old tattered gown.
Just how long had she been held prisoner?
He shook his head and turned around to take a seat on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight as he settled himself at the end of the bed. "Lass?" He attempted to wake her with his voice to no avail.
Of course.
"Lass?" He tried again, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Lass!" He yelled, jolting her awake.
Her emerald eyes shot open wearing a mixture of curiosity, fear, and wonderment at seeing another face that wasn't her own. "Am I dreaming?" She wondered softly.
"Fraid not." He admitted with a singular shake of his head.
"Who are you?" She asked curiously, pushing her palms out against the mattress to pull herself into a seated position across from his.
"I am the man who is going to bring you back to your parents." He said with the most enduring smile he could conjure in that instance.
"You?" She pointed toward him in disbelief.
"Disappointed?" He smirked in amusement. "I really don't think you are in a position to complain…" He leaned in as he reminded her of her current predicament.
"No. Not disappointed. Just surprised that a pirate such as yourself is risking his life to save a princess… Pirates aren't necessarily known for their chivalry." She confessed earnestly.
"I'm not like most pirates." He flashed her a saucy smile and winked at her before extending his hand. "I suppose you have been here long enough, let's get you home." He insisted, helping her up from the bed and dragging her toward the door.
"Wait! Wait!" She protested. "There's something I need-"
"I can provide you with anything you need." He told her.
"No. It's not that I-" She tried to warn him before they hit the invisible barrier, bouncing them back like an elastic band.
"What the hell?" He scowled, reaching out to touch the translucent wall in front of them, preventing their escape. He tested it's structure, his fists ricoting back at him with every thrust. "What did you do?" He turned back around in accusation.
"Me?" She gestured to herself.
"Do you see anyone else here?" He looked around angrily.
"Don't get all huffy at me, pirate." She fired back.
"Ah the pirate thing?" He tested, releasing a frustrated breath. "Can we forget my station for one moment so we can focus on how to get out of here?" He suggested, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation.
"I can't leave this place — neither of us can. I'm held here by a curse." She admitted, backing away from him slowly in fear of his retaliation.
"You mean I came all this way just to be trapped like you? That wasn't how it was supposed to work. I slay the dragon, rescue the princess, and I collect my reward…" He muttered, chastising himself for his stupid carelessness in not looking into this further. Surely, he could have foreseen something like this had he not been so bloody eager. "If it is a curse that holds us here, that means it can be broken."
"It can." She provided.
"I'm sensing a but…"
"We can't pass through the barrier keeping us here because I am still a maiden." She bowed her head in embarrassment, refusing to meet his gaze and let him see how uncomfortable she was.
"You're serious?" He stood like a statue at the knowledge, his eyes widening as he thought. He cupped his hands over his mouth and slid them down his face. "You mean to tell me that in order to release you that I have to take you?"
"Yes." She confirmed shyly. "As long as I remain this way I can't pass through the magical barrier. My only chance at being free is if you-"
"Is if I fuck you?" He said crassly, without a hint of a jest in his voice. "Buggering fuck."
AN- This chapter has been revised to address some glaring plot holes, especially in regards to the timeline that felt necessary to correct. So as a recap of the changes:
-It still took them a fortnight from their current location to reach the very edge of the kingdom. A fortnight is considered to be two weeks long. I understand that is very misleading.
-It took them like a week to get information about where the castle was and another three weeks or so to get there on foot. The horses they arrived back with were ones left behind.