Page 32 of The Frog Prince (The GriMM Tales #6)

Fourteen

Alwin

A lwin hit the stonework with Otto on top of him, heavy and perfectly placed between his thighs.

He couldn’t swallow the desperate croak that escaped him as his body reacted to all the stimulus he had been fighting the whole way home, his amphibian brain telling him to wrap his legs around Otto tightly and hold on.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the instinct, feeling his skin flush under his clothes without his consent.

“Alwin?” Otto whispered, breath hot on the side of his face.

Alwin could only whine and shake his head, fingers grasping Otto’s soaked shirt over his shoulders. The fabric clung to his sticky fingers when he tried to pull back, the friction and pressure making his hips roll up.

Pleasure spiked through him as Alwin’s hardness pressed against Otto’s own girth. Otto grunted in surprise, a vibration Alwin felt in his core as arms came up to frame his head on either side.

“Alwin…” Otto murmured again, color high across his nose and cheeks, eyes half lidded. “I can feel your cock.”

“I apologize,” Alwin said breathlessly. Mortified and thrilled by the blunt words in equal measure.

Droplets of water fell from Otto’s face and hair to hit his skin in a steady drip, making Alwin shiver and shudder with every one before a nose tickled his jaw, finding space above his high collar and hovering over his delicate throat sac.

Alwin gasped, his eyes flying open and fingers straining the seams of Otto’s shirt.

“Why are you apologizing?” Otto asked him.

“Because I…”

Lips pressed lightly against the thin skin, so soft and gentle, but the sensation spiked through him like a lightning strike, taking his breath away. He stared at the canopy above and prayed for salvation.

“Because?” Otto pressed the word into his skin, his lips moving around the syllables.

His finger hooked the material to coax it lower, cold air hitting Alwin’s skin. He croaked, unable to swallow it, the action pushing the skin closer.

“Because I…”

A tongue now, broad, hot, inelegant, branding him, licking up moisture and replacing it with his own.

Alwin’s head pressed back against the stone as he keened, mouth open wide. His legs clamped around Otto’s hips and he thrust wildly. “Because I can’t stop,” he sobbed. “I can’t…”

His hind brain had taken over. The frog part that said: Mate. Breed. Come.

“Don’t stop.” Otto groaned, giving him permission, kissing at his neck as he met his thrusts with powerful ones of his own. “Let me hear you. That croak drives me wild.”

They were already wet from the water, but Alwin knew he was leaking. From his cock, from his ass; his body prepping him to fuck and be fucked. It didn’t care, it just wanted.

Alwin finally untangled his fingers enough to grasp at the back of Otto’s head. His fingers were long enough to wrap around the whole thing, sifting through his soft hair, what would have been his thumb resting across Otto’s cheek and down past his working jaw.

Otto tilted his head slightly in response, and Alwin barely caught the flash of hunger and determination in his eyes before Otto was flicking his tongue out to catch the end of Alwin’s finger right on the sticky tip.

“Otto!” Alwin cried out, watching his tongue eagerly draw the appendage into his mouth. Otto fit his lips around it like it was a cockhead he was sucking.

It wasn’t far off. In size and feel it was about the same—bulbous, with a soft end that leaked the more Otto worked his tongue against it. And the way it made Alwin cry his pleasure into the forest air and grind his hips could have fooled anyone.

His fingers tightened in Otto’s hair, and Otto groaned around the digit, cheeks flushed ruddy red with pleasure, saliva leaking down Alwin’s hand.

His hips seemed to speed up like he was enjoying it too much, and he grasped Alwin’s wrist like he feared Alwin was going to pull it away before he’d had his fill.

And then he started bobbing his head.

“Oh god,” Alwin gasped, his hips fucking up unevenly now with every pulse of pleasure from his hand to his cock.

Otto’s other hand crept down to his ass, cupping it to guide his frantic movements as he took Alwin’s finger to the back of his throat.

Soft walls closed around the tip and Alwin lost it, spraying copious amounts of cum into his breeches.

There didn’t seem to be an end to it, and he whimpered and squirmed under Otto’s surprised and lustful gaze.

Otto’s hand moved from his ass to the front of his breeches, feeling across the soaked material as Alwin’s cock continued to spurt and pulse.

He groaned around the finger in his mouth, eyes rolling as he doubled his efforts to take him deep, moving his hand away so he could thrust into the new wetness Alwin had provided.

Alwin whimpered at the oversensitivity but pressed down on Otto’s tongue just to listen to him moan as he came. Warmth added to the cold wetness in their laps.

Alwin was left panting in the aftermath, the sounds of insects and lapping water filling the space between them.

Otto’s lips were still wrapped around his finger, and he was lightly humming and suckling every now and then.

He didn’t even seem aware that he was doing it until Alwin squirmed and gasped, the tip swollen from the attention.

Otto noticed and let him go regretfully, a string of saliva connecting them until it broke with a silent snap. Alwin’s breath hitched.

“Are you okay?” Otto asked. His voice was hoarse and used and it made Alwin’s cock jolt, already ready to go again.

He was able to ignore it this time as he nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Otto smiled, his swollen pink lips curling into a slow smirk. “So polite.”

Alwin looked away demurely, unable to take the intensity in his expression. “One should always thank the other person for sucking cock well.”

Otto let out a surprised laugh and whispered into his ear, “I’m happy His Royal Highness was pleased with my service.”

Alwin hummed, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “There could be room for improvement.”

Otto grinned. “As his Highness says. I promise I’ll improve with practice.”

Alwin’s heart was beating so fast he felt like a hummingbird was trapped in his chest. He turned his head and stared up into Otto’s eyes, searching for any sign that there might be more than the here and now before telling himself that it was okay to simply enjoy this moment for what it was.

Otto wanted him. It was hard to accept, but as Otto’s eyes shone down at him, it was an undeniable fact.

“We should clean ourselves,” Alwin said.

Otto looked between them, cheeks flushing again. “Yes. Uh, you seemed to…”

Alwin fought down his embarrassment. “Yes…that happens.”

Otto’s eyes flicked up, oddly intent. “Always?”

Alwin nodded and Otto bit his lip, face flushing more. He realized belatedly that Otto liked that.

Alwin needed to get up before he lost his mind again.

He dropped his legs from around Otto’s waist and they got to their feet. Alwin quickly turned away from Otto’s curious eyes. The embarrassment had waned in light of Otto’s desires, but there was still a part of him that cringed at the idea of Otto seeing more of him than what was already exposed.

He didn’t know if his clothes had shifted or tugged out of place, scared that this could all come crashing down if he truly saw him for the monster he was. There had to be a line for Otto somewhere.

“I’ll dress and return presently.” Alwin readjusted his collar, trying not to let loose another croak at how raw it felt, and glanced at Otto over his shoulder. “Then we can start on our research.”

Otto looked a little wistful but nodded firmly, replacing it with determination. “Yes. The sooner we get started, the better.”

Alwin nodded and made himself leave, heading for the place he kept his clothes, stripping the soiled ones off and diving into the water to clean himself. The cold cleared his head, and he rose behind the curtain of a willow, dripping all over.

He grabbed the scarce amount of replacement clothes he had from the mossy trunk that contained the last of what he’d salvaged from his belongings eight years ago. It had dwindled significantly with time and bargains made. There was hardly anything left of Prince Adalwin but a nearly empty box.

Casting the thoughts aside, he pulled on his brown breeches and the white shirt that buttoned high, then shrugged into his brown waistcoat and green tailcoat.

Armored like this, Alwin felt more like himself again.

Less exposed and vulnerable even as his throat and fingers tingled with the touch of fabric.

Prince?

The deep ribbit had Alwin jumping, pressing a hand to his chest. He turned to find Jurgen staring at him from a rock. He looked like he’d been there as long as the rock had.

“Jurgen.” Alwin straightened his waistcoat and cleared his throat. “You scared me.”

He wondered if Jurgen had heard him. Or worse, seen him. It was too mortifying to contemplate. The rumors were probably already swirling the glen, told by eager frog mouths about their Prince flat on his back and begging…

News.

Embarrassment was washed away in a cold flush. Alwin stepped forward in panic, heart wrenching. “Farwin and Gisela?”

Hallin.

Alwin continued his pace forward and bent down by the rock, so eager he didn’t care if he was getting dirty. “What news?”

Singing in the streets. Wedding soon. Servants whisper. Frogs hear. Pass it along.

Alwin’s first reaction was elation, yet reality was swift and painful.

He swallowed a sticky croak full of misery.

His darling brother was getting married, and he wouldn't be able to make it after all. It would be another milestone missed entirely, the heavy weight of a crown he’d never wanted closer to his head.

“I’m sorry, Lorenz,” he whispered.