Page 31 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

Ulric stood abruptly, his legs filled with beehives. This wasn’t how he expected the night to go. He’d intentionally avoided this sort of thing. Maybe they could leave now, do some other activity to exhaust Auren before retiring.

But with one look at the prince, Ulric knew they were past the point of no return. The second Auren turned those fire-lit eyes on him, wide and blazing with intent, Ulric knew he was doomed.

The music thrummed through the theater like a second pulse. It filled the air between them, pulling them like a death grip of a riptide. There was no escaping it.

And then Auren, his wild, wonderful Auren, pounced .

Ulric’s back hit the velvet wall of their balcony with a muted thud, and before he could even think to protest, Auren’s hands were at his waist, yanking loose the clasps of his belt.

“Auren—” Ulric rasped, trying to catch his breath, “we don’t… this isn’t?—”

Auren didn’t stop. His fingers worked the buttons of Ulric’s shirt, undoing them one by one as heat bloomed between them.

“Do you want to stop?” Auren demanded, sharp as the gleam in a Great White’s eye before the attack. “Tell me now, Ulric. Say the words.”

Ulric opened his mouth—but nothing came out. Nothing except the wild thudding of his heart—and the aching, desperate need flooding his veins.

Auren smiled. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

Then he dropped to his knees.

Ulric’s breath hitched painfully as Auren pushed the cloak off his shoulders, baring him to the cool air.

The sound of cloth sliding down his arms and pooling on the floor may as well have been the collapse of a mountainside, the avalanche loud in Ulric’s ears.

Somewhere nearby, he heard the faint sounds of other couples beginning to lose themselves to the music.

The muted gasps and sighs filtering through the velvet drapes.

Bodies shuffled on the main floor as the remaining guests joined the debauchery happening on stage.

Ulric didn’t care.

He only cared about the man at his feet.

Auren worked methodically, loosening the ties of Ulric’s trousers. Each tug of laces sent sharp jolts of arousal racing up his spine. By the time Auren finally freed him, Ulric was already hard. Aching so badly it bordered on painful.

Auren looked at him through amber lashes, hands braced on Ulric’s thighs.

Ulric’s jaw clenched as he braced against the wall.

“Auren—” he managed, rough and shredded. “Gods?—”

And then Auren leaned in, wrapped his hot, wet mouth around Ulric’s shaft, and the great Sorcerer of Atlantis fell apart. A broken, guttural sound tore from Ulric’s throat. His head thudded back against the wall with a muffled bang as pleasure exploded through him.

“Wait Auren not so fas——Fuuuuuuck!”

The warning died on his lips when Auren leaned forward, taking in more of him, eyes bright and curious. Ulric’s body jolted like lightning had struck his spine.

“Auren—Oh Poseidon, have mercy?—”

He gritted his teeth, fighting to keep still, to not overwhelm the beauty between his legs. But Auren moaned, like the taste of Ulric was what he’d been craving all night. Any thought of taking it slow died on arrival.

“Fuck,” Ulric hissed, grabbing the velvet curtain for balance as Auren worked him.

The prince was warm. Eager. Mouth made of silk and heat.

Inexperienced, yes—but that only made it better.

There was something ruinous about how naturally Auren moved, how instinctively he adjusted to every twitch, every sharp breath. Like he was meant for this.

Like his body was made for me.

Ulric’s knees buckled. He barely caught himself on the arm of one of the chairs.

“You’re going to kill me, spriteling,” he gasped.

Auren only hummed in a self-pleased sort of way, the sound vibrating up Ulric’s length until he thought he might come undone right there. And Ulric knew he wasn’t alone in that feeling.

He could hear it—the sounds of bodies moving, of laughter, of gasps and cries and shuddering pleasure. He could feel the thrum of the music vibrating through the floorboards and up his legs.

But all of it—the noise, the theater, the city itself—faded to nothing compared to the heat of Auren’s mouth.

Ulric tangled a trembling hand in Auren’s hair, pulling it free from his whale-bone clasp, until it spilled like molten copper across Auren’s bare shoulders.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” he gasped.

He would remain in control. But damn it all, this Mer was testing the limits of Ulric’s four hundred years of perfect restraint. And when Auren glanced up at him through those lashes, cheeks hollowing around the base, Ulric made a sound that belonged nowhere but the deep.

With a challenge in his eyes, Auren swallowed him down. All the way. Ulric throbbed as the tip of him touched the back of Auren’s tight throat.

“Fuck—” Ulric groaned, one hand finding its way into Auren’s hair, fighting not to thrust mercilessly into that mouth. “Auren, you don’t have to?—”

Auren pulled off with a filthy pop. “But I want to,” he said.

“I want to know what you taste like. I want all of you inside me.” He went back down, as if he meant to ruin Ulric.

Ulric was more beast than man now. Reduced to a tangle of nerve endings and need.

Unraveling one breath at a time beneath the mouth of a man who was becoming his undoing.

He gripped Auren’s hair tight, using it to drag the prince’s mouth back and forth, nearly pulling all the way out before shoving back into his throat.

All the while, Auren hummed, breathing hard through his nose as spittle dribbled down the sides of his mouth. Ulric wanted to stay in this moment. To burn it into memory. If this were all he ever got, he would die knowing that Olympus had once bowed to him, mouth open and eager.

And when those ocean-blue eyes met his, watery from the intensity of it all, Ulric fell apart.

He spilled into Auren’s ready mouth, hips twitching, teeth gritted to avoid shoving in so hard he’d bruise the poor Mer’s lips. Auren took it all, greedy, devoted, throat bobbing as he drank Ulric in.

Ulric gasped, feeling as though he’d shot out three times his usual load. When he pulled out, an echoing jolt of pleasure shot down his spine as he watched Auren lick his lips clean.

Ulric’s knees gave, and he crumpled into the chair, panting like he’d just swum the entire breadth of the Pacific.

Auren crawled into his lap, straddling him, his flushed face split into a grin so wicked and triumphant Ulric wanted to kiss it right off him.

“Still think we should have left?” Auren teased.

Ulric could only growl and yank him down into a bruising kiss.

He tasted himself on Auren’s lips, tongues tangling in an explosion of sensation.

“You beautiful menace,” he hissed. “Now it’s my turn to have my way with you.”

The Kraken’s hands made quick work of stripping him bare.

But that didn’t mean he intended to rush the next part.

Not now. Not after Auren shattered every wall between them.

No, Ulric would savor him and draw out every second into an eternity.

Slowly, he pushed Auren back, letting his greedy gaze drink him in.

Gods above.

Auren stood before him, bare and flushed, cock hard and leaking against his stomach, thighs trembling from need. The low light from the stage accented every line of him, honed and perfect. A body made for worship.

And Ulric planned to do just that.

He tugged Auren onto his lap, his back against Ulric’s chest, their bare skin slick and electric where they touched.

Ulric reached around, wrapping a hand around Auren’s aching cock, stroking him slowly, idly, just enough to draw a ripple of pleasure down Auren’s spine.

Enough to keep him gasping, whimpering every now and again, those sounds punching straight through Ulric’s chest like spears.

“Watch the show,” Ulric commanded, steering Auren’s gaze forward. “Don’t look away while I touch you.”

Below them, the show roared on.

Bodies writhed together on the main floor, the scent of sweat and lust thickening the air. Auren watched the stage as Ulric watched him —the way his mouth parted in breathless awe, the way his hips rocked into Ulric’s loose grip without even realizing it.

The first man and woman took to a high podium, gleaming with sweat, bodies heaving.

Ulric saw it coming before Auren did—the inevitable crescendo. He heard Auren’s sharp intake of breath as the man grabbed the woman’s hips, lining himself up with her entrance. He thrust into her with a guttural roar, and the woman cried out in duet, wild and feral.

The wet sound of it echoed across the hall.

Auren stiffened in his lap, staring with wide, stunned eyes.

“What did he just—?” he choked.

Ulric leaned in, lips brushing Auren’s bare shoulder, dragging his teeth lightly across the overstimulated skin.

“He penetrated her,” Ulric murmured, dark as silk. “If he keeps that up, he’ll spill inside her.”

Auren’s thighs clenched on top of him. More precum oozed out as though his cock were crying for release. Ulric groaned as the fresh dribble slicked his hand where he still idly stroked Auren’s length.

“Is that how… how they…?” Auren could barely get the words out.

“Mmhmm,” Ulric hummed, licking a slow, teasing stripe up the length of Auren’s throat to his ear. “That’s how it’s done.”

“Does she… does she also…”

“If he’s any good, she’ll find her own pleasure too.”

To punctuate the words, Ulric bit down on the nape of Auren’s neck, earning a startled, choked cry.

Someone on the neighboring balcony whooped with laughter and shouted, “That’s right! Give it to him!”

Ulric chuckled darkly against Auren’s back, but his focus was absolute. Every little sound Auren made—every twitch, every breath—wound him tighter and tighter. The underground pressure of a volcano on the cusp of spilling onto the earth.