Page 26 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

The town square bustled with late morning life, and Ulric’s coin passed freely. Auren supposed that was the reward for centuries spent scavenging treasures from shipwrecks.

The merchants were delighted to see Ulric. They clapped him on the back and whispered good-natured gossip with a kind of familiarity that struck Auren deep.

He’s been here before. Often.

There was a depth of knowledge that Ulric had hidden from Auren.

But they were free now, and Auren didn’t hold back.

He asked about anything and everything—the odd way humans preserved food with salt or why some hats were shaped so outrageously tall.

And every time, Ulric had an answer, never laughing at his questions (well, maybe a little bit), and offering informative answers.

The sheer amount of information left Auren dazed. He was sure that he'd asked the same question twice, but Ulric never acted annoyed. He answered with the same calm patience every time. And the look in his eyes as he answered them… It made Auren’s knees weak with need.

And yet, through it all, Auren’s mind kept wandering. Kept slipping back to the night before—the feel of Ulric’s hands on his body, his calloused touch, the shared heat of their skin.

How badly he wanted to feel that again.

Still, a part of him remained suspicious.

Normally Ulric, practical to a fault, would have insisted they return home by now.

After all, if Auren was well enough to walk the bustling streets, surely he was well enough to endure the transformation potion and swim back to Atlantis.

To fill his role as prince, and Ulric his station as Court Sorcerer.

The thought of them returning to the cold, touchless way they’d been before made Auren want to grind his teeth in frustration.

But Ulric said nothing.

If anything, he seemed as reluctant to leave as Auren was. And Auren, selfishly, wasn’t about to question it. If the Fates were kind enough to grant him more time, he would hoard it.

He would make it last forever.

Their wandering took them past stalls of baked goods, salted meats, and colorful woven cloths.

A burst of childish laughter snagged his attention.

There, in the square, a puppet theater was in the middle of a show.

Small children sat cross-legged on the cobblestones, their faces alight with glee as they watched tiny wooden figures dance across a miniature stage.

Bright colors. Clanging swords. Wooden dragons breathing ribbons of smoke.

Auren hovered on the edge, enchanted. When a puppet vanquished another with a clumsy wooden sword, Auren lowered himself onto an empty stump among the children, utterly rapt.

He didn’t even notice Ulric standing back, arms crossed and smiling faintly.

The entire performance passed in a blur of wonder—heroes and dragons, evil wizards and princesses cleverer than the kings who ruled them. And when it ended, Auren was almost reluctant to rise, blinking as if waking from a dream.

Ulric pressed coins into the performers’ palms as they packed up their tiny stage.

“You enjoyed that,” Ulric said, a note of pleasant surprise in his voice.

Auren flushed. “Maybe a little.”

Ulric chuckled low in his chest. “Good. That gives me an idea.”

Auren perked up. “What idea?”

But Ulric only leaned in, his breath hot against Auren’s ear, sending a shiver racing down his arms.

“It’s a surprise, spriteling.”

That night, they dined under the stars in an open-air pavilion strung with lanterns. The food was hearty and strange—soups thick with root vegetables and spices Auren couldn’t name but devoured without question. His body was starved, not just for nourishment, but for life.

But he was distracted, and it wasn’t by the soup.

Ulric sat across from him, relaxed in a linen shirt open at the throat, revealing the broad, bronzed expanse of his chest dusted with dark hair.

His strong jaw was shadowed by scruff, and his long black hair was tied back with his signature whalebone clasp, a few strands falling free to frame his face.

Auren was so taken by the sight of him that he kept dropping his spoon into the soup and had to stick his fingers in to fish it out.

The lanternlight painted Ulric’s skin in deep, honeyed tones, and Auren knew that the heat pooling low in his belly had absolutely nothing to do with the stew.

He had to take several deep, calming breaths before they rose to leave to avoid embarrassing himself.

The walk back to the house was a blur. Neither of them spoke. Tension crackled between them, like pine nuts popping in a fire. All of it came to a rapid crescendo the second they reached the door.

They barely made it inside.

The door slammed shut behind them, and?—

Ulric’s mouth was on him.

Dragging across his jaw, down the column of his throat.

The Kraken’s stubble scraped against Auren’s sensitive skin, setting every nerve on fire.

Ulric kissed a spot, just behind Auren’s ear, and licked the curve of his ear lobe.

Auren gasped, clutching his shoulders as warmth flooded him so fast it was dizzying.

Ulric pulled back enough to rasp, “Sensitive there?”

Auren blushed. “I-I think so.”

“Good.” Ulric’s wicked smile promised delights Auren was not ready for.

Ulric’s hands moved over him, undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one, sliding his broad palm up his belly to rest against his bare chest.

“Is this okay?” he murmured.

Auren nodded, breathless.

“Does this feel good?”

“Yes—gods, yes.”

Ulric’s thumb brushed his nipple, and Auren jolted, rattling the door on its hinges as pleasure sparked across his skin.

“Too much?”

“No,” Auren panted. “It’s—It’s good.”

Ulric continued, pinching Auren’s nipple hard enough to send a quick spark of sensation all the way down to his toes. Auren arched into the touch, the door cool against his spine and Ulric hot everywhere else.

Before he could catch his breath, Ulric leaned in, voice rough against his ear.

“Let me show you more.”

Yes. Gods yes. Show me more. Show me everything.

But Auren was too breathless for words and only managed a quick nod.

He watched, aching, as Ulric leaned back and shed his own shirt. The firelight kissed every inch of inked skin and muscle, from the thick ridges of his abdomen to the ancient glyphs spiraling over his ribs.

“You can touch me,” Ulric said, voice thick. “Anything you want. My body is yours to explore.”

Auren did. He let his eyes wander over every ridge.

Every inch of skin pulled taught over muscle.

He counted the sigils inked there. Wait…

were they always so faded? Several of them had an unfinished look.

Unfinished— or disappearing. But before Auren could inspect further, his thoughts were interrupted by Ulric’s hand grabbing him by the neck, forcing his chin up.

Ulric kissed him—harder this time—then spun their bodies and walked them backward, lips never leaving Auren’s as they stumbled toward the bed. When the back of Auren’s knees hit the edge, he let himself fall onto the mattress, dragging Ulric down with him.

Auren’s hands slid up Ulric’s torso again, exploring every line, every curve, everything that marked Ulric as powerful.

Auren wanted to leave marks of his own. He pressed his lips to the crook of Ulric’s neck, sucking skin into his mouth.

Ulric made a low rumbling sound, and when Auren pulled away, he was delighted to see a red spot blooming there.

He’s mine, Auren thought with a rush that went straight to his groin.

Auren licked the side of Ulric’s neck, right where he could see the frantic pulse of his vein. He went lower, and when he reached Ulric’s chest, he paused. Instead of mimicking what Ulric had done, Auren leaned down and gave one pink nipple a slow, languid lick with his tongue.

Ulric jerked, but then resumed his statuesque pose above him, braced on his knees, hands gripping the bed sheets as though clinging for dear life.

He’s holding back, Auren realized.

Auren relaxed into the pillow, staring into those bottomless eyes.

“I want to explore more of you. All of you,” Auren clarified, and to be sure the message landed, he reached between them.

His fingers found the worn leather of Ulric’s belt.

The clasps gave with a satisfying clink , and the sound of sliding leather might as well have been thunder in his ears.

Ulric’s breath hitched, his body turning to stone—but he didn’t stop him.

Carefully, Auren pried Ulric’s white-knuckled hands from the bedding and guided them to his waist.

“Don’t hold back now,” Auren whispered, voice shaking. “My monster of the deep.”

Ulric broke.

In a rush of desperate heat, he grabbed Auren and kissed him with a hunger that stole the air from his lungs. Their hips rolled together. Auren’s whole body pulsed with need, desperate to be closer.

He barely noticed the shifting fabric as Ulric kicked off what remained of his pants.

“You can touch me,” Ulric whispered, the words gasped as though he’d been holding his breath all this time. “Take whatever you want.”

He didn’t wait for permission to be granted a third time.

Auren slid his hands down the trail of hair, over the definition of Ulric’s abdomen.

He felt down the hard lines of his hips, finding coarse hair and trembling thighs.

And then he reached the core of Ulric’s pleasure and couldn’t help the small gasp as his hands wrapped around the thick shaft.

It pulsed in his grip, so hot it might scorch him.

Ulric stuttered as Auren explored the sheer size of his girth, leaving no place untouched. He let out a low, guttural curse.

“Fuck.”

The slip of Ulric’s composure emboldened Auren. Made him want more. Somehow, with one dose, he was addicted to hearing sultry words fall from those lips. He stroked carefully, marveling at the way Ulric’s body responded to every movement.

When a bead of liquid welled at Ulric’s tip, Auren’s heart raced—and before he could think better of it, he brought his fingers to his lips and licked it clean.

The result was instant.

Ulric let out a feral sound, stripping Auren of what remained of his clothes, eyes wild and black with need.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done,” he growled.

He yanked down Auren’s trousers, baring him to the air. Auren gasped, but Ulric was already on him, stroking, teasing, worshiping with hands and mouth, and whispered praise.

“Oh gods—oh gods—” Auren gasped.

“No gods tonight,” Ulric said darkly. “Only me.”

It was too much. Too good. Auren whimpered under Ulric’s relentless ministrations, his body straining toward climax.

He wanted to give Ulric the same. Wanted to taste him, to touch him, to make him lose himself the same way.

But Ulric wouldn’t let him.

Every time Auren reached, Ulric guided his hand away with a kiss and renewed his efforts until Auren was seeing stars.

“Tonight is for you, my prince,” Ulric breathed against his skin. “Only you.”

It frustrated Auren—this stubborn devotion.

“I-I want to feel you too,” Auren pleaded. “I want you to feel it too. With me.”

Those seemed to be the magic words because Ulric responded by moving his hips forward and wrapping both their shafts together in one powerful hand.

Auren let out a moan that filled the room.

His back arched, and his toes curled. He was unraveling, heat flooding his skin, pleasure coiling hot and fast in his belly.

With blurred vision, Auren looked up at Ulric.

And in the middle of it all, it hit him.

The way Ulric saw him. Touched him. The way he whispered his name with ruddy desperation.

I’m in love with him. I’ve always loved him.

He’d loved Ulric for years. He just hadn’t had the words for it. Not then. But now, feeling Ulric’s hands, Ulric’s breath, Ulric’s body trembling with need against his—he knew. He was completely, helplessly, beautifully in love with him.

And it was terrifying.

He gasped, body jerking as pleasure surged up through him like a riptide.

“Ulric—careful—I’m?—”

“I’ve got you,” Ulric gasped, working them both.

Auren let go, moaning the Kraken’s name as he came hard between them. A heartbeat later, Ulric followed, hips stuttering, a growl of pleasure breaking from his throat as his hand tightened around them, drawing out their orgasm.

They collapsed together in a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs and panting mouths.

It was a few minutes before either was ready to move.

Ulric was the first to regain his senses, finding a cloth and cleaning them both.

When he slid back in bed, his body was still hot.

Still naked. Still fit against Auren’s own, like the two pieces of a shell.

“You’re perfect,” Ulric murmured, pressing kiss after kiss to Auren’s brow, his cheeks, his lips.

Auren didn’t speak at first, but when he did, a rush of emotion struck him so hard that tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He clung to Ulric like a shipwrecked man.

“I’ll have you, Ulric. From the sky to the blackest depths of the sea, I’ll have you. All I ask is that you take me in return.”

Ulric’s answering kiss was gentle.

“Always, my prince,” he whispered. “Always.”

And Auren—full of love and warmth and the man he’d waited a lifetime for—let himself believe it.

He let himself hope.

And he didn’t let go.