Page 27 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

The bathhouse door slid open, releasing a wave of heat and the sharp, clean scent of eucalyptus oil. Their little cabin by the sea had a small basin fed by cool well water. Good enough for washing the grime from hands and face, but nothing like the true luxury of a real soak.

And Ulric needed it. If he were to be honest with himself, Ulric was aching.

Not in the way men ached after long days, but deep in his bones, deep in his roots.

Holding onto his magic these past weeks was like gripping the handle of a water bucket while the gods poured more and more weight into it.

Every minute, another drop. Every hour, heavier.

His hands were slipping. His grip was failing.

And he knew it.

Tonight, he needed to feel renewed. To scrub away the sweat, the dead skin, the creeping weight of the inevitable. Even if just for a little while.

The bathhouse owner took one look at Ulric and Auren and perked up when Ulric pressed a coin pouch into his palm.

“Private use for the evening,” Ulric murmured.

The man tucked the coins away with a wink. “Take your time, my Lord. Everything’s prepared.”

Ulric nodded and turned toward Auren, who was already looking around wide-eyed.

Steam curled through the air, softening the stone walls and wooden beams. Off to one side, low stools and gleaming basins stood ready for scrubbing.

Beyond them stretched a tiled pool, filled with steaming, scented water, while lanterns threw rippling light across the surface.

“This is too big to be just for a single person,” Auren commented, noting the row of stools.

“It’s a bathhouse. Meant for many men at once, the women have one next door.”

“This is fancy.”

“I brought us to the upper ring of the city. Common coin will get you a bathhouse beside a farm where they use the same water as the pigs.”

Auren wrinkled his nose. “I appreciate the worth of your coin more and more each day.”

Ulric laughed. “Yes. There are many pirate treasures being passed around town these past few days.”

Auren glided to the center, bare feet sliding on damp tile. He spun in the dimly lit space like a dancer, the faint trickle of water his music.

“You paid for all this?” Auren asked. “I’m not shy, we could have kept it public.”

Ulric shrugged a little stiffly.

Auren smirked. “What? Shy, old man?”

Ulric gave him a deadpan look. “I’m not shy. I’ve visited more bathhouses than you have hairs on your head, sea-sprite.”

“Then why bribe the owner?” Auren teased, sidling closer, mischief in every line of him.

“I don’t want anyone gawking at you.”

Auren stopped short, blinking. “Gawking at me?”

“There might be… questions,” Ulric muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re—” He gestured vaguely. “Very smooth. Most would notice.”

“Oh, come now. The sight of a man with no hair on his body can’t possibly be that much of a novelty.”

Ulric’s lips quirked despite himself. “You want the truth?”

Auren pressed close, the steamed air already hot, but his presence made it suffocating.

“The truth, spriteling, is if anyone else so much as looked at you, the whole city would quickly become acquainted with the bottom of the sea.”

Auren flushed scarlet and turned away, but not before Ulric caught the pleased twitch in his mouth.

They stripped down together, wrapping thin cotton towels low around their waists. The steam clung to their skin, making them glisten under the lanterns.

At the edge of the pool, Auren hesitated. He glanced uneasily at the water, one hand fisting the towel tighter at his hips. “Will this… will this make me?—?”

“You won’t transform,” Ulric said, resting a hand on Auren’s shoulder. “The potion holds until you touch the true sea. This doesn’t count.”

To prove it, Ulric slid into the bath first, sinking low into the heat with a contented sigh that wrung the ache from his muscles.

Gods, I needed this.

The water loosened him, peeled the tightness from his joints, quieted the terrible buzzing under his skin.

“See?” he said, stretching his arms along the smooth stone edge, body half-floating. “Still very human.”

Auren grinned and dipped a toe, eyebrows lifting at the heat, before sliding in and settling beside Ulric. The water lapped around their waists, their towels billowing between them. Steam curled and blurred the bath house in a comfortable haze.

They sat on a tiled seat built into the bath, letting the heat melt the weight off their bodies. Ulric tipped his head back against the stone, closed his eyes, and for once—for only a moment—let himself drift.

When he cracked one eye open again, he found Auren watching him. Watching him the same way he inspected a new human artifact. Studying. Learning.

Ulric’s stomach tightened. “You’re staring,” he murmured, his voice rougher than intended.

Auren tilted his head, unbothered. “You’re different when you’re relaxed.”

“Am I?”

Auren nodded, a smile curving his lips. “Softer. I like it.”

Ulric huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Always such a grouch,” he said with fondness, reaching for a lavender soapstone resting at the edge of the pool. The scent was heady in the steam as he lathered it between his palms, working it into a soft, fragrant foam.

Ulric watched, helpless, rapt, as Auren dragged his hands slowly over his own chest, up the strong lines of his arms, the hollow of his throat.

Soap and water slid down his body in shimmering trails.

His muscles flexed and shifted with every pass of his hands, strong yet graceful, a natural elegance that no court tutor could have taught him.

Then Auren tilted his head back.

The tendons of his throat stretched, water sluicing down his skin as he dipped himself backward into the bath. His hair fanned out like red seaweed before he emerged again with a toss of his head, droplets spraying like a halo of mist around him.

It was a dance. A siren’s call.

And Ulric, poor fool that he was, was already drowning.

Auren’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, lost in the simple pleasure of the heat, the scent, the cleansing touch of his own hands.

Ulric sat, spellbound, as Auren moved through the water like a creature born of it. Every ripple, every gliding motion of his hands, seduced without a single word spoken. Ulric’s hands itched to reach out, to drag Auren into his arms and kiss him until neither of them remembered how to breathe.

He was beautiful.

And Ulric’s heart beat out a single, insistent rhythm.

Touch him. Touch him. Touch him.

Auren shifted closer through the misted bath, the steam curling around his shoulders. Ulric noticed his towel coming loose beneath the water.

“Feels weird,” Auren said, words echoing slightly in the tiled room, “to be in the water like this. With legs.”

“You’re adapting well. Your balance is impressive, all things considered.”

“I’ll still never get over how sore my thighs are after walking all day. No one warned me about that. After all the treks in and out of town, this feels nice.”

“Oh, believe me,” Ulric murmured, fingers drifting along the curve of Auren’s hip, teasing the already loose tie of his towel. “I could show you a hundred reasons your thighs might ache by morning.”

Ulric was losing the battle with his free will. The siren’s call stripped him of reason, of the ability to hold himself back.

Auren flushed scarlet, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re the worst.”

Ulric chuckled and pressed a kiss to his hair.

I love you, my prince.

But he didn’t say it.

The words hovered, aching behind his teeth, but remained caged.

Maybe he didn’t want to burden Auren with his confession.

Maybe he didn’t want to expose the last bit of his heart.

But no matter how he delayed things, every step Auren took, every symbol that disappeared from Ulric’s skin, brought them closer to the end.

Closer to the moment Ulric would cease to exist.

And Auren didn’t know.

He didn’t know Ulric could have returned him to his sea-born shape days ago. The potion's effects lingered only because Ulric was using his precious stores of magic to keep them here. To keep them in this human form.

Because the moment Auren returned to the sea, the moment Ulric’s purpose was fulfilled—the gods would owe him nothing.

And Ulric owed them everything.

Their blessing would leave him. Strip him of his magic and leave time to rapidly take back what Ulric had stolen from it. He’d dissolve into the sand. Forgotten by time. Buried, like all things the sea no longer wanted.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Auren said, gliding through the water until their knees brushed. He pressed an index finger to the furrow in Ulric’s brow. “Stop it.”

Ulric laughed. “Maybe I need a distraction?”

Auren leaned closer, water trickling from his hair. “I was hoping you’d come to that conclusion. I don’t think we’ve finished my lessons. There is more to this body I have yet to learn.”

Ulric took Auren by the arm, guiding him through the water until the prince was on his lap, his towel slipping loose as he settled, ass bare and perfect. Auren leaned into the embrace, his back to Ulric’s front. Ulric wanted to grip him, claim him, crush him close.

“There’s more than one place I can touch you,” Ulric whispered, lips brushing Auren’s ear, “to make you come undone.”

Auren shivered. “Show me.”

Ulric started slow. He kissed his way down Auren’s neck, his shoulder. His hands roaming lower still, until Auren gasped as Ulric’s fingers teased the inner apex of his thighs.

“Spread your legs for me, darling.”

Auren hesitated, his breath stuck in his chest. But a moment later, he obeyed, relinquishing control. And that submission made Ulric throb, tenting his towel, pushing against Auren’s back.

“Do you trust me?” Ulric breathed.

“Y-yes,” Aurent said, already breathy though Ulric had hardly touched him.

In one swift motion, the Kraken lifted him and spun, setting Auren on the edge of the bath. His legs still dangled in the water, and streams ran from his soaked scarlet hair.

“What are you doing!?”

“Hush,” Ulric commanded.

Ulric kneeled in the bath facing the edge, his mouth inches from Auren’s parted legs.

The Kraken’s mouth watered. His prince was hairless here too, but it didn’t make him look bare—if anything, it drew more attention to the sharp lines of muscle running down his stomach, leading straight to his proud length.

Ulric was done waiting. He descended, taking Auren into his mouth with a wicked stroke of his tongue.

“Mmmm~!” Auren’s head fell back as Ulric worshiped him.

Ulric tortured him. Up and down in languid licks, flattening his tongue to taste more, until pearlescent drops gathered at the tip.

He teased the slit, savoring the musky tang.

But he didn’t stop there. Ulric’s tongue slid between Auren’s thighs, lower, lower—grazing places that had never been touched before.

The muscles along Auren’s thighs trembled.

But never once did he close his legs. Never once did he restrict Ulric’s access.

It made Ulric shiver. He grabbed hold of Auren’s waist, tilting his hips, forcing Auren to lean back, exposing more of himself.

He pressed a kiss to the curve of that magnificent ass, then nipped it playfully.

Auren jerked at the contact of teeth, but didn’t shove Ulric away.

His body was a coil of tensed muscles and electric nerves.

Ulric couldn’t have possibly imagined a more beautiful sight.

Ulric dipped lower, teasing that delicate perineum, drawing out a choked sound from Auren’s throat.

Then—lower still. With both hands, he spread Auren’s ass open, extracting every last drop of pleasure, memorizing the way the tight crevice squeezed his tongue.

Auren’s hands repeatedly flexed on the tiles, as though looking to grab something, to anchor himself as he floated into delirious bliss

“Hold on, spriteling.”

It was all the warning he gave before diving into that crevice, his tongue finding the sensitive hole. Ulric growled as his tongue traced the clenched, circular ridges.

Auren cried out.

“Ulric—what—oh?—”

“You’re alright,” Ulric murmured, tongue moving again, licking gently as Auren moaned against him. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Auren was panting, head tipped back, face flushed and wild.

Ulric tongued him open, until Auren was writhing beneath him, whimpering his name.

Begging.

“I told you, there are many ways I can make you squirm, my prince.”

Ulric withdrew a breath. Then, with one slicked finger, pushed carefully at that rosy bud.

Auren gasped. “That feels—gods, what is that?—?”

“Your body,” Ulric whispered, “is learning how to sing.”

He pushed further. Past that tight ring, until he was knuckle deep. Ulric rotated the joint and curved it forward at?—

Just

The

Right

Spot.

Auren screamed .

Ulric’s cock ached, but he didn’t care. Not yet. He kissed Auren’s trembling thighs, his hips, and whispered, “You’re so beautiful like this. Let me see you fall apart.” He crooked his finger again, finding that perfect place. That button to bring Auren crashing into oblivion.

And crash he did.

Auren cried so loud his voice echoed off the tile walls. His eyes rolled back, moaning Ulric’s name, body writhing as his pleasure spilled free. Ulric held him through it, murmuring sweet things, lovely things, things he had no right to say.

Because this couldn’t last.

He knew it.

But still, he whispered, “Mine.”

And Auren gasped through heaving breaths, “Yours.”