Page 97 of The Frog Prince
“My beautiful prince,” Otto said.
Alwin whimpered softly before Otto felt gush after gush of cum burst out of Alwin’s untouched cock between them. It soaked Otto’s shirt, coated his belly beneath it, and dampened his breeches still uncomfortably bunched below his ball sac. It was a tidal wave of Alwin’s release, and Otto reached down to grip Alwin’s pulsing cock in his hand, getting it soaked with his seed.
A primal part of him reveled in it. Wanted to spread it over his entire body and never wash it off. He was the one to bring Alwin so much pleasure. He was the one to make him feel safe and seen enough to be let inside. Not just Alwin’s body, but his heart, his home, his kingdom. Otto was the only one allowed, and the thought made him wild.
He bucked his hips and fucked up into Alwin, who was pliant and spent on his lap.
“Yes,” he whispered softly into Otto’s neck, nuzzling in closer and gluing himself to Otto as he took the pounding Otto was giving him. “Want to feel you inside me.”
Perfect.
A perfect mate for Otto.
He thrust into him mindlessly, out of control, only feeling and knowing the carnal pleasure he’d never experienced before. Not with any of his past lovers. It all paled in comparison.
Alwin was moaning gently, tiredly, his body limp as Otto chased his own peak. He thrust harder. Alwin released the softest little croak, and that was what did it in the end.
That sound, so uniquely Alwin, was enough to send him over the edge. He came, holding Alwin in place speared on his pulsing cock as he painted his insides. Otto held him close, refusing to let go. Refusing to let it end.
A flash of fear came over him that Alwin would regret it. That he’d wake up and move and break their connection and make it all turn sour.
Instead, he got a cuddly, whimpery mess of a frog prince, burrowing into his lap, hiding against Otto’s body, using the folds and nooks to disappear as best as he could. Otto ran his fingers down the knobby spine, catching sight of those dark-blue marks fading back to green as their breathing evened out.
He hooked his chin over Alwin’s head and rocked them back and forth slowly, softening inside Alwin’s body but unwilling to pull out just yet.
He stared out at the clearing, even more beautiful now that it held the memory of their first time. The lush green of the forest, the midnight blue of the rings of mushrooms, the sparkling beams of weak autumn sunlight bouncing off the ground.
He started humming into Alwin’s shoulder as he watched, mind drifting, body spent and relaxed.
“That’s nice,” Alwin whispered. “What is it?”
“Just a song Gisela used to sing with the other kids in the village,” Otto said. “A game, I think.”
“Sing it for me?”
Otto held him closer, shutting his eyes and recalling the words of the silly rhyme Gisela had spent months chanting around the house when she was little.
“If you ever come across a glowing ring of midnight blue,
Don’t just stand there trapped in silence, here is what you ought to do.
Take one closest to your heart and hold it in your palm,
Make sure your grip is tender and your breathing deep and calm.
Crush the petals slowly, gently, make your fingers let it go,
Watch it while it flutters down, and wait for it to lose the glow.
Then take the twin from on the right, and do it all once more,
But this time as it tumbles down, remember what you swore.
To keep your heart and spirit kind, and only do good deeds,
For only when you’re pure of heart, the blue your wishes heeds.
Pick the fallen from the ground and use it as you’d like,
