Page 75 of Drown Me Gently

“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—”