Page 43 of The Frog Prince

Otto watched him slumber for a while with a hazy, considering gaze, remembering just how calming it was to have him close. Talking to him, telling him silly stories until the nightmares faded into nothing and Otto could sleep again.

Monsters didn’t protect others from bad dreams, did they? They caused them, starred in them. So what did that make the prince?

He didn’t know just yet.

Without his consent, his hand reached out toward the crease in the prince’s forehead, wanting to smooth it out, feeling responsible for its presence there.

He was close enough to feel the coldness of his skin before those wide, bulging eyes snapped open and the prince looked at him upside down from his position.

His huge, slitted pupils expanded as they took in the scene—Otto leaning over him, his hand reaching out for him, the early morning sun painting spots on the bed and their skin.

“I do not mind waking up like this,” the prince said, the rasp and croak of his voice even rougher after sleep. It scratched something deep and primal in Otto’s body, waking it up with a flash of heat.

He rushed to sit up and tuck the blankets around himself before the prince could notice, looking away as his face bled pink. “Good morning,” he said loudly, awkwardly.

A croak that sounded suspiciously like laughter filled the room.

“I hope you slept well?” the prince said politely.

“Yes.” Otto answered quickly. “Perfectly well. And you?”

The prince looked down at his own body on the floor, then up at Otto’s mortified face. “Delightfully.”

Otto wanted to pull the blankets over his head and disappear.

The air strained with the silence, Otto not knowing what to say and the prince staring at him expectantly.

Otto shifted under his attention, feeling himself flush and squirm with every inch his gaze moved along his body. From his face, over his neck and chest, down to his legs, bent under the blankets to conceal his growing problem.

Had the prince run his eyes over him like this while he slept unawares? Admired him? Coveted him? Desired him? Had he thought about joining him on the bed, sliding under the covers to bring his dreams to life?

He bit his lip, breath stuttering in his chest as his mind ran away from him, slipping through his grasp faster than he could catch it. His cock throbbed in response, and he dug his fingers into the mattress, fighting the urge to buck up under that gaze, to seek friction or beg for attention.

Madness. This is madness.

The high-pitched buzz that had awoken him came again, and a speck of something dark flitted across the edge of Otto’s vision. Before he could register it, a thin pink tongue lashed out like a whip and scooped the buzzing thing out of the air.

Otto snapped his head toward the Frog Prince, finding him wide-eyed with his lips pressed thin.

A far more awkward silence developed as Otto rationalized what he’d just seen and the prince pretended it had never happened.

“Did you just…?”

“Certainly not.”

“I’m quite sure—”

“Your eyes must be deceiving you.”

“I think my eyes are just fine.” The previous tension shattered as Otto fought not to laugh at the prince’s mortified expression. “Hungry?”

The prince turned his head like he had done last night and swallowed, dabbing at the corners of his lips with the tips of his fingers.

“My apologies,” he said, looking everywhere but at Otto. It was oddly sweet, his embarrassment. A far cry from the intimidating presence he’d met in the forest.

“At least I don’t have to worry about your breakfast now.”

“This was hardly an appetizer,” the prince said, lifting his chin as he clearly fought to regain some of the regality he had just lost.