“Come to join?” the maid said eagerly, resuming her movement, bouncing up and down on Noren’s cock. He let his head fall back, eyes closing, unfazed by Gerrie’s interruption. She watched as the maid clenched around him, enjoying the sight of his thick length moving in and out of her.
“Sadly, no. I’m here to steal him away from you.”
“Fuck off, Gerrie,” Noren muttered as he accelerated his pace, thrusting his hips up hard, not bothering to stop.
“I wish I could, Nor, I really do. This looks like fun, but sadly, it’s a trap, and this witch is enjoying herself as your sex shackles.”
The maid made an over-the-top gasp of offence. Not believable in the slightest.
Noren’s eyes flashed open and his movements slowed. “What?”
“She’s using you beautifully, but it’s time to go,” Gerrie insisted.
Her earnest tone seemed to catch his attention, and he took one look at the maid’s flushed cheeks, her eyes cast down. She slammed herself back down on his cock a few more times before Noren gripped her waist and tossed her off him. He scampered to get dressed, almost falling over in his haste, his cock still straining against his pants.
“You couldn’t have waited until I was finished?” he asked as the trio ran down the stairs, the pub beginning to teeter to life. They snuck out the back door and made for their horses. It was no surprise when Gerrie found the stables empty.
“I’m sure Viggo won’t mind finishing you off later, but even one more minute meant we were done for,” Gerrie said, gesturing to the horizon as a line of guards raced on horseback towards the pub.
“You said this place was safe,” Noren muttered under his breath as they trudged through the forest as quickly as possible.
“I said we would find out, and we did. Not safe.”
“Stop bickering. You’ve had sex, you can’t act like siblings. That would be weird,” Viggo whispered.
“They’re going to find out really quickly that we’re not in that pub. We have to find a place to hide,” Gerrie insisted, ignoring Viggo.
“We should go to the Southern Wilds. I doubt they’d look for us there,” Noren suggested.
She didn’t want to admit that was a good idea and was irritated she hadn’t thought of it first. They changed course, Gerrie leading the way back to the familiar grounds.
Though when they got there, all she saw was the decomposing bodies and ashy remains of what she’d once called home.
They kept to the shadows, sneaking into the half-burnt dining hall. Gerrie fought the swell of emotions as she remembered happier days gone by. Now the whole world was burning.
She hoped it would be reborn and not left forgotten like the Southern Wilds.
Noren showed Viggo where the kitchens were, and they began scrounging for tins of food and provisions. There wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
“So now what?” Viggo asked as they sat around a table, eating cold beans.
“We still have our mission from Solveig—we have to get to the Vanaheim castle,” Gerrie said.
“And how do you suppose we get there? We have no horses and we still have to cross the chasm,” Noren countered.
Gerrie leaned back in her chair, thoughtful. “There is one option we could consider.”
“And what’s that?” Noren asked, his face guarded with skepticism.
“I don’t like that look in your eye,” Viggo added.
“We need to get to the palace, right? We need an audience with the king and queen. And we need to do it sooner rather than later. So, let’s go back to the pub,” Gerrie said simply.
Noren and Viggo stared at her. Suspicion doused the modicum of comradery she’d cultivated with Noren, and Viggo looked like he was concerned for her mental state.
“I don’t think that’s the best plan, Ger,” Viggo started slowly.
“It’s a suicide mission,” Noren added.
