Page 77 of The Frog Prince

Alwin pointed outside at the water, and Otto’s gaze followed.

“There are many places for one such as me,” he said. “Do not worry, young master.”

Alwin went to leave again, but Otto’s voice stopped him.

“Will you stay?”

Alwin thought he was probably dreaming. Their eyes met, and the swirl of wanting in Otto’s gaze took Alwin’s breath away. “What?” he whispered.

“Stay,” Otto said, not breaking eye contact. “This room is beautiful, and you worked hard on it, so you deserve to enjoy it. And…”

“And?” Alwin prompted softly when Otto bit his lip and trailed off.

Otto shrugged. It was such a sweet gesture from someone so large and imposing that Alwin found himself smiling without even noticing he was doing it, completely charmed.

“And I’m here,” Otto said eventually, making Alwin’s brain spin. “If that’s a selling point.”

Alwin wanted to scream that it was the only one that mattered. That Otto being there was the best part of all his recent days.

“Very well.” He swallowed hard, trying to force his voice to come out evenly. “I can sit at the foot—”

“Absolutely not.” Otto slipped his boots off and lowered himself onto the bed, scooting toward the wall. “You slept on the floor next to me once before, and all that did was make me feel guilty because you were uncomfortable all night.”

He patted the space next to him and looked up at Alwin, a siren illuminated by fairy light, beckoning him to his possible demise.

He walked straight into its cold embrace, sitting down gingerly on the edge of the bed, his back to Otto. His cold heart was hammering in his chest, his hands shaking where they gripped the side of the lily blanket.

“Lie down,” Otto whispered, breath wisping past his cheek and making him shudder.

Alwin did as he was told, at the mercy of Otto’s whims. There was enough space for them both to fit comfortably, even with how wide Otto was, but he still folded himself up awkwardly until he was taking up as little space as he could. Careful not to touch Otto, not to crowd into his space, not to breathe too much in his direction lest he changed his mind and Alwin was back to sleeping all on his own in the cold depths.

Suppressing the surge of excitement in his blood was impossible, happiness bursting like bubbles. Above all else, however, was hope. Desperate, all-encompassing hope, acting like the strongest drug.

“It’s soft,” Otto murmured into the twinkling night.

Alwin turned his head to look at Otto’s strong profile—the arch of his nose, which scrunched when he was deep in thought, the line of his jaw that begged for kisses, the hair falling haphazard and messy, like fingers had been running through it.

Alwin’s own fingers twitched, the sensitive tips puckering. He curled them into his palms and smothered a croak. “I did my best.”

Otto turned his head—so close, so intimate. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re very welcome,” Alwin replied with a small smile he hoped remained hidden by the darkness, letting his eyes slip shut before they revealed too much.

Otto’s eyes didn’t move from his face, and Alwin tried not to squirm under the scrutiny, his webbed feet curling at the end of the bed.

“What did you make it from?” came the question just a few moments later.

Alwin opened his eyes again but kept his gaze on Otto’s jaw. “The bed?”

“Yes.”

“Moss, some soft grass I collected, lily pads. I lent it just a bit of my magic to keep it from rotting. It should hold, I hope.”

Otto’s hand moved up into the space between them, directly into Alwin’s view. “You bargained something of yours for me again?” he whispered.

Alwin nodded slowly.

“I would have been fine sleeping on the floor.”