Chapter Text
Wilhelm’s POV
The alarm goes off on Erik’s phone, and Wille uncurls himself from where he’s nestled into Simon as his brother starts logging in his credentials into the computer. This is it. It’s time. Time to finally tell everyone the truth about himself, and about the boy he loves. He takes a deep breath and sits next to Erik, Simon sitting in the chair next to him just slightly off screen.
Simon reaches out and links their hands together, squeezes Wille’s hand in his and smiles softly at him. “You can do this Wille. We both believe in you. So much.”
Erik distractedly hums his agreement, while trying to log into the live interview. He’s so glad that the news station would rather have them do the interview live this way due to Erik still healing from his accident, rather than have a pre-recorded one in person.
Simon seems to sneak a glance at Erik, and seemingly deciding that Wille’s brother is not really paying attention to them, he presses a kiss to Wille’s cheek, to his nose, and then to his lips, before pulling away and tucking a strand of Wille’s hair behind his ear. “I love you,” he mouths soundlessly, and Wille smiles, leaning in to give Simon another kiss.
“Are you two done, can I please press the join button now?” Erik asks, and Wille watches in amusement as Simon’s cheeks turn a little pink, before he scoots farther away where he won’t be seen by the interviewer. Wille shuffles out of frame as well. “Alright, ready?” Erik asks, facing Wille.
Will he ever be ready? Can one ever be ready to come out to an entire country and announce their boyfriend? Probably not. But he has the two people he loves most in this world sitting on either side of him, so he supposes this is the closest to ready he’s going to get. He nods, and watches as Erik composes himself into his princely personality, and joins the newscaster’s call.
They all sit with nerves bouncing back and forth between them like energized ping pong balls as the newscaster discloses a recap of Erik’s accident, and finally announces that they will be joined by Crown Prince Erik in just a few moments. The video technician adds Erik onto the official broadcast and the newscaster greets him formally, with Erik of course flawlessly returning the greeting.
“I’m sure that many of us were extremely worried when we heard the news of your accident, and were praying for a swift recovery,” the newscaster begins. “On behalf of the public, we’d like to ask you if you have been recovering well and if you are feeling able to return to your regularly scheduled activities soon.”
“Absolutely,” Erik responds, voice full and confident. “Thankfully, and most likely due to the kind prayers and thoughts of the people, the injuries I acquired were not too dire, and simply required the observation and care of the experienced doctors who’s care I was under. I’d like to extend my thanks to them as well for seeing that I made a swift recovery. I am feeling well and I intend to return to my regular work starting tomorrow.”
“We’re so glad to hear that. Do you-”
Erik politely cuts off the newscaster’s question, and Wille feels his heartbeat in his ears with the knowledge that it’s almost time for him to speak. Hopefully he will be somewhat as poised as Erik is being now. “I apologize for interrupting your next question,” Erik says, “but while I felt it necessary and important to assure the public I am feeling healthy and have recovered, there is a larger matter that I wanted to discuss during this time on the air if you wouldn’t mind.”
The newscaster, clearly not expecting such an out of the ordinary interruption looks flustered, but quickly recovers and says, “by all means, go ahead.”
“Thank you,” Erik replies, flashing one of his signature prize-winning white smiles before continuing. “My brother Wilhelm has recently been the subject of much attention from the press in both the past, and in the recent week. He would like to speak on the current matter, so without further delay, I am going to give Wilhelm the screen.”
Simon squeezes his hand one last time before they’re forced to break apart as Wille, hopefully not awkwardly, shuffles into the frame as Erik exits it.
“Hello,” he begins, forcing his mind to focus. “Thank you for allowing me to speak on such short notice. There has been a recent video circulating online that originated in an article of two men kissing while being secretly filmed from outside a window at night. Many people believed me to be one of the people in the video, and I originally denied this statement.”
This is it. This is the moment. He breathes in and out slowly, and it feels like his whole body is running on pure adrenaline. His eyes are on the screen as he’s talking, watching his reflection and the newscaster, which has become overwhelming. His concentration however, is on Simon, sitting next to him just out of reach with his eyes glued not on the screen, but directly on Wille. Simon’s attentiveness should make him feel nervous, but in this moment that is taking all of his nerve to keep speaking, Simon’s gaze on him makes him feel strong. There is something so special about Simon, something in his presence, in the way he listens, in the way that Wille feels like he matters when he’s around him.
Simon gives him the strength to be who he is. Or rather, Simon wants him to make himself realize he has the strength to be who he is, and in this moment, to have the strength to tell people.
“I am here to take that claim back. I lied because I was scared of how people would react, and I felt like I didn’t know what to do, and I apologize for my dishonesty. I want to make things right now by providing the truth. I am one of the people in the video, and I was kissing another boy.”
The newscaster’s face flashes with a look of absolute shock at Wilhelm’s admission, before her professionalism takes over, and she composes herself instantly.
“I wanted to officially announce to everyone that I am not straight, and that part of me is an important part that I want to share. It does not define me, or put me in a box, or limit who I am. It simply adds yet another part of me that I have to give. I want to let the people of this country know that Sweden is an accepting nation, and that all people should be allowed to love who they wish to love.
I am still young, and I am still figuring out what my sexuality is, as I’m sure many people are, particularly young people. Speaking of those who are figuring out who they are, I wasn’t sure that I would have the courage to discuss such a private part of myself, but someone very important to me told me that it would have meant a lot to them if they had known there was a queer royal in the Royal Court when they were younger.
This person is very special to me, someone who is kind, caring, generous, thoughtful, and intelligent, and who is the other person in the video that was secretly taken of us. I would like to introduce you all to my boyfriend, Simon.”
He turns his gaze for the first time away from the screen and looks at Simon, who looks shocked as if he hadn’t thought Wille was going to pull him on screen with him, and who quickly wipes at his wet and shining eyes. Simon looks so happy, and so proud of him that Wille can’t help feel pride in his chest for what he’s just done as well. He scoots over so that he takes up half the screen, and Simon tentatively lets Wille pull him onto the screen next to him.
All traces of the Simon who’s usually full of cocky confidence, or at least upholding the veneer of it, often allowing vulnerability lurking not too far below the surface to show, is nowhere to be found. Instead, Simon’s voice now is soft and nervous, a little shy, and completely adorable. He gives a shy smile and a tentative little wave, and makes out a timid “hi.”
Wille smiles, and Simon does the same. Their energy is so infectious that the newscaster seems to be unable to hold in her neutral expression any longer, and smiles as well.
“Well this is certainly an unexpected announcement,” the newscaster replies, “but I’m sure a welcome one by many people no doubt. I’m sure the people are wondering how this will change the future of the monarchy. Would you mind elaborating a little on that?”
“Absolutely,” Wilhelm nods, forcing himself to stop smiling at how Simon still looks the complete antithesis of his normal self, and reaches for Simon’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze to hopefully comfort him in the way Simon had done to him before the broadcast.
“I want to assure people that just because I am in a relationship, it doesn’t mean that there will be many changes, and certainly not any negative changes. Erik is Crown Prince, and will be taking over the throne one day. I am going to take my position very seriously as well, but I am also only just starting to begin to understand what that role is, and I am also focusing on my studies at university. Speaking of which, I would like to ask members of our university, as well as the public to kindly respect our privacy at this time.
I understand people will have many questions, and I will do my best to answer them to the best of my ability, but I also want to remind everyone that though I have grown up with my life being very public, Simon has not. I ask the people of Sweden to please respect our boundaries as you would with anyone.”
The newscaster looks as though she wants to ask more questions, but he doesn’t think he has the mental capacity any longer to keep forming articulate answers. “Thank you so much for your time, and thank you to all that listened,” he concludes his speech and in a few minutes the newscaster has wrapped things up and Erik closes out of the interview and shuts the computer.
The second the laptop clicks shut, Simon, who has been very still sitting next to him and holding his hand, wrenches his grip free and tackles Wilhelm into a hug, making him fall back a little bit nearly onto Erik. Erik laughs and joins in on their little embrace, squeezes Wille’s shoulder and says, “I’m proud of you Wille,” before letting go and shoving the two of them back upright.
Simon is still hugging him so tightly with his head burrowed into his shoulder, his curls tickling his neck. “I love you I love you I love you,” he hears Simon’s voice say, very muffled into his shirt.
“I love you too,” he replies into Simon’s hair, holding him tighter, which makes Simon respond by gripping Wille somehow impossibly tighter as well, to the point where he can barely breathe. Although, he thinks that maybe being squeezed to death by the person you love the most in the world isn’t exactly a bad way to go.
Eventually Simon lets go of him, and his eyes are so full of what he can only describe as adoration directed at him. It’s extremely overwhelming and he’s certainly not used to people looking at him with that look. He isn’t quite sure what to do, so he just stares back at his beautiful boyfriend and allows himself to get lost in the dark pool of Simon’s eyes.
He could stare at Simon’s face for eternity, and by the way Simon’s staring at him right back he comes to the astonishing and unbelievable realization that possibly Simon is thinking the same about him. It’s a terrifying feeling, it’s a wonderful, warm, indescribable feeling that-
Erik clears his throat slightly obviously, and for a moment Wille had forgotten that he was even in the room. Both boys snap their eyes to Erik, and Erik looks like he’s trying to stop himself from teasing Wille, which is a first for sure. “As fun as this is,” Erik says, waving his hand around to gesture at Simon and Wille, “I probably should head out.”
Erik leans in to give him a hug again, and tells him once again how proud he is of him. It’s a prodigious feeling, to know that his older brother who’s opinion has always meant so much to him is so accepting of who he is, and even proud of him for it. Erik gives Simon a hug too, and tells him he is proud of him as well. Wille wishes he could bottle up this feeling of euphoria forever.
“Do you want to stay here tonight so you don’t have to drive all the way here and back in one day?” He asks Erik, in reality truly not wanting him that far away in case of something happening. He hasn’t checked his phone yet so he has no idea what the public reaction is to him and Simon.
“Don’t worry, I booked a room right nearby in case either of you need me.”
At Erik’s breezy inclusion of Simon into his protection, Wille sees Simon smile softly, and Wille can’t help but do the same at the sight of him.
He isn’t as subtle as he thought because Erik immediately says, “Also, I definitely do not want to be trying to sleep with the two of you in a room next door.”
At Erik’s playful insinuation Wille feels himself blush furiously as his eyes dart to Simon, who has burst out laughing and is not even trying to hide it.
“Well you’re not exactly wrong,” Simon replies, eyes twinkling and still laughing, now with Erik at Wille’s expense. His boyfriend is a little shit, he’s supposed to be on his team, not on Erik’s. He can’t be mad for long though, because the realization that Simon has indirectly alluded to the fact he might be wanting to participate in some, um, activities later makes a feeling of fluttering warmth settle in his chest.
He’s brought out of his thoughts by Erik clearly noticing the way the two of them are staring at each other, and just chuckles at them and shakes his head, putting his hands on his knees as he stands up, saying “well that’s definitely my cue to leave. Have fun you two… but not too much fun.” He winks at Wille, which makes his cheeks that are already burning pink absolutely on fire.
Erik turns to Simon and says, “out of the two of you, I’m going to guess you’re the more responsible one, so close the curtains. And no more national headlines at least until this blows over, okay?”
Simon nods seriously, trying to keep his laughter at bay. He bites his lip and says, “yes sir.” His composure starts to break a little bit, and his grin betrays him, making Erik laugh as well and Wille chucks a pillow cushion at Simon, which Simon catches and hides his face in.
Erik starts to pack up his items, and Simon places the pillow on the couch before standing up to help Erik gather his things. “It was really nice to meet you, Erik,” Simon says, and the picture of Erik and Simon standing next to each other is one he snapshots for safekeeping in his mind. “Thank you for doing all of this for us. I’m so glad Wille has you.”
“No problem,” Erik smiles, “and for the record, I’m glad Wille has you. ”
Simon’s smile that follows Erik’s words is priceless. It’s brighter than the sun and the stars all together. “Now enjoy that compliment while it lasts little man,” Erik says, “because you’re officially part of the circle of people I make it my mission to tease relentlessly now.”
Simon shakes his head, “what is it with the two of you and calling me small!” He huffs with fake indignation. Wille and Erik both laugh, and thank god finally Simon knows how it feels to get a taste of his own medicine and be betrayed by his boyfriend to be on team Erik.
“It’s okay Simon, I like that you’re teeny,” Wille says, unable to help himself. He reaches for Simon’s hand but Simon playfully slaps it away and flips him off instead.
“And to think I thought you were so sweet and cool when I first met you,” Simon says, jokingly rolling his eyes. “You’ve got everyone fooled.”
“You thought I was cool?”
“Nope, just kidding, not even a little bit. I’m so much cooler than you.”
“It’s true,” Erik agrees, pointing at Simon and looking at Wille. “He is way cooler than you.”
“You really couldn’t stay on my side for a full five minutes, huh?” Wille questions his brother, making them all laugh.
“What can I say?” Erik says, shrugging, “I wanted to be on the cooler team.”
“Oh shut up, get out,” he says as he playfully pushes his brother out the door. Erik laughs at him all the way to the doorway, and finally the door closes and he and Simon are alone. No newscaster, no Erik, just the two of them.
There’s a silence that passes over them, almost as if they’re both taking in what it is that actually just happened, and trying to comprehend that they’ve actually succeeded.
“We did it,” he says.
Simon steps closer to him, holding his gaze in such an intense way that makes Wille feel like he’s floating. “ You did it,” Simon replies.
He shakes his head. “ We did it. Me and you.”
They’re barely an inch apart now, and Simon nods a minuscule nod, leaning towards him in search of his lips. “Actually wait,” Wille says, leaning back enough where Simon just misses making contact with his lips. “Why should you get to kiss me? You don’t think I’m cool.”
Simon doesn’t even look phased by his teasing, and that should be his first warning. The shy, meeting Wille’s brother and being on an interview for the first time Simon is gone, and the Simon that makes Wille want to agree to any bad idea that comes out of Simon’s mouth is back.
“I don’t think you’re cool,” Simon smirks, “I think… that you are really fucking hot though.” That’s all it takes for Wille to start blushing, but of course, Simon doesn’t stop there. “I think that it was extremely, extremely sexy of you the way you were so confident, and the way you talked about yourself, and the way you talked about us.” Simon’s tracing two fingers from the back of Wille’s hand, and up his arm now, the touch mixed with Simon’s heated gaze making him shiver. “And I love the way that when I touch you, it’s almost like your body can’t handle it.” His fingers have reached his jaw now, before sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck. “And I think… that there is only one way for me to describe to you the way it felt when you introduced me as your boyfriend.”
Simon adds his other hand to the back of Wille’s neck, the same place where the other one has been busy in Wille’s hair, and gently but surely pulls Wille in toward him, holding him steady as Simon kisses him with an intensity that makes his knees weak and his heart nearly stop.
Simon’s kissing him with so much intention, that he stumbles backward a little, hitting his back not so gently on the wall.
Simon breaks apart from him for the first time and mutters a soft “sorry,” before grinning and pressing their lips and bodies back together. Simon’s hands are all over him, and Wille’s are just as eagerly, if not more, roaming indecisively all over Simon’s neck, chest, shoulders, arms, and hair.
His phone in his back pocket buzzes against him and the sound is made louder from the way it’s pushed against the wall. Simon pauses for a moment and watches Wille, allowing him to make the next move. Obviously he chooses to ignore this distraction and pulls Simon back against him, maybe a bit too over eager, which makes Simon laugh against his lips.
His phone buzzes repeatedly in his pocket now, signaling a phone call. Simon pulls away again, and this time he steps slightly more out of Wille’s space, but with his hands still lingering on his forearms.
“That’s probably important,” Simon suggests.
“I don’t care,” he replies, reaching for Simon’s waist. Simon stops him and says, “ Wille ,” in a stern tone that lets him know he isn’t going to just let it go.
He sighs and pulls out his phone, internally groaning at seeing his mother’s name as the one calling him. He knew this would happen, obviously. Of course when he came out on national television his mother would call him and demand to know what was going on. But some part of him was hoping she somehow wouldn’t. He knows that scenario is impossible, and that she’s probably angrily pacing back and forth across her office with her phone in hand, anxiously waiting for him to pick up the call and admit he’s tarnished their reputation forever. But he doesn’t want to pick up the call.
“It’s my mother,” he replies, to which Simon looks far less fazed than he thought the other boy would be, and shows no sign of worry. God he loves this boy.
“Which is important,” Simon retorts fondly back at him.
“I know.”
“So you should probably answer her.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Wille…”
“I don’t want to Simon, and I don’t have to. Today has been one of the biggest moments of my life, and I want to just have one moment for myself… with you. All she’s going to do is criticize me for doing something that can’t be undone. And I’m glad it can’t, because I don’t want to take it back. I want to love you, Simon.”
“Well fuck,” is all Simon replies, before melting into Wille and wrapping his arms around him snugly, pulling Wille away from the wall and into him, allowing Wille to rest the full weight of his body against him.
“How am I supposed to win this argument with you now when you’ve gone and said that?” Simon says, the vibrations from his soft laughter able to be felt throughout Wille’s own body, making his heart flutter.
“I thought you said you always win?” Wille replies, remembering their conversation from a few weeks ago. As if he could ever forget anything Simon has ever said to him, or any moment with Simon.
“I distinctly remember saying I usually win,” Simon replies with a cheeky smile which Wille instantly leans in to press a quick peck to.
“Well you seem to be winning a lot less than ‘usually’ nowadays,” he responds, feeling smug about the way Simon’s fake boastful attitude falters a little, “especially when I do something like this.” He grabs hold of Simon’s waist firmly, and switches their positions so that Simon’s the one closest to the wall, shoving him against it just roughly enough to surprise him, while cradling the back of Simon’s head with fingers in his hair so it doesn’t hit the wall.
Simon lets out a small, breathless sound at the impact, which Wille captures immediately in a kiss before it disappears. He tugs on Simon’s curls, making Simon silently gasp, which allows Wille to bite gently at his bottom lip. He presses Simon more firmly against the wall, and steps so his thigh is between Simon’s legs, pressing right against where he can now feel Simon starting to need him.
He can feel Simon’s increasing hardness against his thigh, and the thought makes him match Simon’s moan. Simon’s practically melting between him and the wall, and Wille’s enjoying every moment of making the other boy act this way. He presses a kiss to Simon’s jaw, tracing it with his lips. He doesn’t make it all the way, because his phone is buzzing loudly in his pocket again, and Simon groans and lays his head back against the wall in annoyance.
“You didn’t think to turn it off after it just rang? ” Simon asks, voice clearly struggling between being annoyed and being completely breathless.
“You didn’t think to turn it off either!”
“It’s your phone!”
“It’s your…” Okay, well he doesn’t exactly have a good comeback for that, and instead fumbles to stop the buzzing and sets his phone on silent.
When he finally gets the damn thing to be quiet, he tosses it frustratedly onto the couch before turning back to Simon, who is smiling and shaking his head at him. Simon smiles an innocent, pure, puppy dog smile, as he pokes Wille’s chest and says “you’re stupid.”
He rolls his eyes and knocks his head onto Simon’s shoulder. “I know.”
“I love you.”
He was enjoying having Simon being all worked up and flustered, and he wants that upper hand back so he stays quiet after Simon’s teasing.
“Wille…”
“Mm?” He responds, pretending to ignore Simon’s ‘I love you.’ He also pretends to ignore the way his whole body feels as if it’s ascended into the garden of Eden every time his boyfriend says those words.
“I said , I love you.”
“I know,” he replies, taking his head off of Simon’s shoulder and looking into Simon’s eyes in order to come off more in control. Big mistake. Looking into Simon’s eyes is like looking into a dark mirror of endless possibilities of all Wille’s wildest fantasies, and the warmth in Simon’s eyes makes it feel like all those fantasies can come true.
Simon adorably crosses his arms in front of himself, pretending to be very annoyed, and glares at Wille. His glare in this moment is about as menacing as a baby kitten’s. Oh sweet, intimidating, suave Simon, look what you’ve become, he thinks. The thought makes him break his feigned indifference and crack a smile, which makes Simon’s pout grow.
“Alright fine,” Simon huffs bombastically, which makes Wille’s smile widen. “If I un-call you stupid will you say it back?”
“Maybe,”
“Ugh, I guess you’re maybe a little not stupid.”
“A little?”
“A lot not stupid… Sometimes?”
“Sometimes?”
“Okay, fine, a lot not stupid, like, seventy five percent of the time. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.”
How is it that such a ridiculous human being is the person that he loves so uninhibitedly? Or maybe he’s the ridiculous one for doing the loving. He concludes they are most certainly both ridiculous for loving the ridiculousness that is the other, and he can’t withhold saying it any longer.
He l reaches out and uncrosses Simon’s arms, who lets Wille do so without any resistance. It’s something that he had been in awe of the first time Simon just let him move his body any which way, and something he will probably forever be in awe of. He plants Simon’s hands on his own waist, and rests his arms around Simon’s shoulders, pulling him in and whispering “I love you Simon,” against his lips.
When they finally separate, Simon reaches out a hand, which he instantly takes. It doesn’t even matter where Simon wants to lead him, he’d most definitely blindly follow Simon into the seventh circle of hell.
* * *
They simply lie on their sides for a long while, facing each other and studying each other’s bodies and faces, both of them still half hard next to each other, but nearly too tired to do anything about it… nearly.
“I’m thinking of a poem right now that reminds me of us,” Simon says into the warm blanket of silence.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Wille’s heart flutters. How on earth does he have a boyfriend who tells him there are poems that remind him of him? And then Simon starts reciting the poem to him from memory , making him nearly forget his own name and giving him a good reason to struggle to breathe for once. Forget feeling like he’s going to pass out from coming out to an entire country, he’s going to pass out because his boyfriend is reciting poetry to him from memory while holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters.
“It lies not in our power to love or hate,” Simon begins,
“For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should love, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows; let it suffice
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?”
Wille rolls over onto his other side to get closer against Simon, and feels warm all over as Simon immediately snuggles against his back and wraps his body around him. Wille basks in just how smart and beautiful his boyfriend is, allowing Simon’s telling of the poem and its meaning cacoon him in a bubble of safety and affection. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to what it feels like being cared about so much by someone in this way.
“It’s by Christopher- or also known as Kit- Marlowe who was one the most famous Elizabethan era playwrights,” Simon continues on, and he knows there’s a big smile plastered on his face now at how Simon’s completely engrossed in talking about it, and he’s grateful that Simon can’t see it because he’d surely get teased for grinning like an idiot in admiration for his boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. He just keeps repeating it over and over in his mind, and it doesn’t feel less sacred no matter how many times he does.
“The poem’s about love at first sight, obviously,” Simon chuckles, “and I think that’s how I felt about you. The silly boy who just wouldn’t stop staring at me like an idiot from across the bar. I loved you then, and I love you now. I sort of interpret the poem as love just kinda happens and you can’t help who you fall in love with. There’s this idea in the poem that there is an irresistible force that makes people fall in love that’s really mysterious and unexplainable. The last two lines indicate that love is weak, but if it is love at first sight, the love of unreason, then it will be strong… and that’s like us. The love of delirium, but this strong pull that I feel toward you that can’t be broken. Even when both of us tried to break it.”
“Simon,” he manages to say as barely a whisper, his name sacred just Simon’s words that he had been whispering to Wille, that are somehow more beautiful than the poetry he’d been reciting. “How are you so beautiful? Your words- Everything you say- do- you- beautiful.” He’s aware that he’s not making complete thoughts and he feels the the vibrations of Simon’s light, silent laughter against his back. “Ugh,” he groans back, making Simon giggle more.
“I wish I could explain to you how much I love you in the way you can for me. I don’t know how… you know that meme that’s like the guy shoveling that tiny section of snow on the roof? And it’s like ‘my feelings for you’ and then the tiny shoveled out part is like ‘how much I am able to express’ and- oh my god you just told me how much you love me with a poem and all these things you know about it, and I’m here telling you how much I love you using a meme? Oh my god this is so embarrassing!” He scoots away from Simon on the bed, rolling onto his back and covering his face that he’s sure is beet red with his hands, shielding it from Simon and the way he’s giggling. He doesn’t have to admit to anyone that he doesn’t mind making a fool of himself one bit if it means being the source of the laughter that sounds like twinkling bells coming from Simon.
With his face still in his hands he feels a weight clambering on top of him, and peeks out from his fingers to see Simon smiling at him and straddling his hips. “If you don’t know how to say it you could just show me by kissing me instead,” Simon says, shrugging, the smile not leaving his face.
And thank god that , Wille does know how to do. He sits up, planting his hands firmly on Simon’s waist where he’s sitting in Wille’s lap, and kisses Simon in a way he hopes conveys all the words and emotions he’s feeling but can’t eloquently explain in the way that Simon can. It seems to work because Simon is practically melting against him in his lap and his hands are wandering absolutely everywhere as he lets out breathless little noises that Wille drinks up like they’re made of gold, because they probably are. Made of gold just like the gold ingots of Simon’s poem, maybe… he doesn’t really know and can’t really care because all the thoughts in his mind are SimonSimonSimonSimon.
They pull apart finally and he can’t hide his beaming smile full of adoration for Simon this time, which instead of being met with teasing is matched by a smile of equal brilliance by him. Simon’s grin quickly fades into his signature smirk in an instant, and his eyes darken into a pool of mischievous want, which makes Wille’s whole body feel like it’s on fire everywhere they’re connected. “And if you feel like the kissing doesn’t convey what you want it to enough,” Simon begins playfully, and Wille should have known he was done for the second Simon opened his mouth, “then you could also try doing other things to me instead.”
A burning fire of desire burns in his lower body, and any thought he’d had as a response evaporates as Simon shifts his hips purposefully against Wille’s in his lap and teases, “I’m just saying you have options. Poetry isn’t the only-”
He grabs Simon’s hips tighter before Simon can even finish his sentence and pulls him down onto him, before rolling himself on top of him and pinning down Simon under him as fast as he can. He pauses for a moment to look down at Simon’s face, and it looks, well it looks like the smug face of someone who’s gotten exactly what he’d wanted.
“Good?” Wille asks, matching Simon’s smug expression.
“Almost,” Simon replies, licking his lips and looking absolutely devastating.
“Almost?”
“Well you are still talking and not kissing me, so almost,” Simon replies.
And well, how else is he supposed to respond to that other than by kissing Simon so fervently that he’s grasping at Wilhelm’s hair, panting breathlessly and involuntarily pushing his hips up against his Wille’s. They both let out a groan when their hips meet at just the right angle, and Wille can feel just how much Simon wants him against his own hip bone, and he’s sure Simon can feel his as well.
He grinds his hips against Simon again in the same delicious angle, which makes Simon muffle his groan by biting Wille’s shoulder and murmur, “tócame por favor,” into Wille’s skin, which makes him let out a soft, embarrassing whine.
He pulls back to take off Simon’s clothes, and basks in the sight of Simon’s beauty. His eyes are half-lidded, practically burning with desire and desperate need. Wille traces the dip of his nose with his thumb, other fingers cradling his jaw. His thumb makes it to Simon’s lips, and he opens his mouth, allowing Wille to slide his thumb inside. He wills his body to control itself at the mere sight and sensation of Simon gently sucking on his finger, and extremely reluctantly slides his finger back out in order to use both hands to take off Simon’s shirt.
He roams his hands without a path or intention all over Simon’s chest, making Simon eventually collapse from where he’s been leaning up on his elbows, to being fully flat on his back against the bed and the pillows. As Wille drags his fingers lower, Simon’s back arches up so that his hips are allowed to be magnetically pulled to Wille’s touch. He gently but firmly presses his left hand flat against Simon’s still dressed hip bone, and presses his hips back downward, making Simon’s head fall back against the pillows.
Simon lets out a sigh, and his body falls more pliant beneath Wille’s hands. It’s euphoric, as he traces his finger down the line of Simon’s arm, his eyes taking in every dip and curve and scar of the boy who loves him, and of the boy he loves. It almost doesn’t feel real, but when he lets two of his fingers graze Simon’s nipple and Simon’s face scrunches with pleasure, he knows it’s very real.
He loops his fingers around the waistband of Simon’s pants, and asks “can I take these off?” Finally looking up at Simon’s face in order to confirm he can continue. Simon opens his eyes in a haze, with blown pupils blending in with the dark brown, and a smile on his lips as he nods his confirmation to Wille. A smile that is always on his mind, even when Simon’s not in the same room, and even when he’s trying to concentrate on other things. Wille leans down to press his lips against Simon’s, wanting to feel his smile just as much as see it, and Simon meets him halfway, the two of them desperately drinking in every drop of euphoria that is passed between them.
He slides Simon’s pants down, leaving his underwear on, and after he’s done, Simon pulls him on top of him and presses a kiss to his neck, whispering hotly in his ear, “el tuyo tambien… yours too,” before biting at his ear tenderly. He kisses Simon again, feeling Simon smirk into the contact, letting him know Simon knows that he would most definitely instantly comply with his request sounding like that in Spanish.
He strips off his clothes as quickly as he can, taking off his pants to his underwear. He nearly smacks Simon in the face as he pulls off his shirt, getting a little stuck in his haste. Simon lays a hand over his ass and squeezes, teasing, “Jesus Wille, I want you to have sex with me, not injure me!” Immediately giggling viciously like the curly haired menace he is when he sees how red his statement makes Wille’s cheeks.
“You’re so mean to me,” he pouts, which makes Simon scoff.
“Excuse me! You’re the one who hasn’t touched me at all since you shoved me on this bed!”
“You’re the one laughing at me!” He jokes with false anger, secretly loving the way Simon laughs so uninhibitedly when they’re intimate like this. “And I am touching you,” he retorts, brushing his fingers over one of Simon’s nipples again.
“Wille! You know what I mean,” Simon whines, petulantly jerking his hips up against Wille’s, the friction between both of them so much greater now that there is only a thin layer of fabric between them.
They both let out a moan in unison and he presses Simon back down into the mattress, checking in to make sure Simon’s still okay with all his movements, before he mutters “behave” against Simon’s collarbone. He nips at the skin to leave a mark just below where Simon’s shirt collar would hide it, and soothes it with his tongue, making Simon involuntarily squirm his body around, but unable to because of Wille’s firm grip holding him in place.
“Are you still okay with me holding you so tightly?”
“Please don’t stop,” Simon replies, looking like he isn’t going to last another moment if Wille doesn’t put his hands on him this instant. He desperately implores Wille to take off his underwear, which he does.
Wille finally wraps his hand around Simon and strokes it gently, making Simon whimper at finally getting Wille’s hands on him. He kisses Simon’s chest and admires the way Simon’s body squirms and breath changes with each new spot a kiss lands, or each new way he moves his hand along where Simon is achingly hard.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers into Simon’s sweaty and flushed skin, shifting his body downward.
“So are y-ah!” Simon gasps, unable to finish his sentence as Wille takes Simon into his mouth, his hands still squarely planted holding down Simon’s hips. Simon’s moaning and squirming under him, and his hands fly into Wille’s hair, tugging gently as Wille speeds up his pace, which sends a ripple of pleasure throughout Wille’s body. Eventually, Simon’s gasps and mewls become increasingly more irregular and frantic, so he pulls off of him and replaces his mouth with his hand. Within moments, Simon’s whole body is tensing and then completely letting go as he elicits a loud moan, coming hard as Wille strokes him through it. Eventually, Simon’s little whine of discomfort lets Wille know it’s becoming too much, and he releases Simon, enjoying the way his boyfriend rolls closer and flops his body like a wet fish against him.
Simon looks up at him, and Wille doesn’t want to brag, but his eyes are sparkling, the darkness of them seeming to somehow glow in the dim light. Noticing how limp his boyfriend’s body is flopped on him, but also being unable to ignore the pressure that is aching against his own underwear, he takes Simon’s wrist loosely, and guides Simon’s hand to lay on where he desperately needs his touch.
Simon smiles a lazy and satisfied smile against Wille’s shoulder and slides wrist out of Wille’s grasp and inside of his boxers, applying a pressure against where he’s so hard that makes stars burst behind his eyelids. Simon continues working his hand against him inside his underwear, kissing the trail of hair right above his waistband and then slides himself between Wille’s legs. Simon slides the waistband down, looking up at Wille with dark eyes through even darker eyelashes with a questioning look, which makes Wille question how long exactly he is going to last.
“Please,” he manages to say with a rough voice, and Simon slides the waistband down a little more, biting sharply at his skin which makes him yelp in surprise, before Simon is making his mind lose all ability to think by gently kissing and grazing his tongue over the mark.
“I love you,” he hears Simon whisper, before he feels the intimate, wet heat of Simon’s mouth around him, clearly having more experience at this than he does. Simon is very skilled to say the least, and he can’t help the whimper that escapes him as Simon licks a hot stripe up his length before taking him in his mouth once again.
The way Simon’s touching him right now has his whole body aflame, about to float away into a heaven made solely for Simon and him. He can’t believe he’d ever denied this, that they were anything less than two halves that fit perfectly together in mind, soul, and body to make a whole. As if he’d ever want to touch anyone else in this way, or have anyone else touch him like this.
Simon somehow seems to read his mind, like he always does, because he laces his and Wille’s fingers together tighter, pulling off of him for a moment to whisper “I’m yours,” before returning to the steady, wet, rhythm that has Wille losing his mind.
At Simon’s words, he feels himself tighten, on the brink of falling apart. And then, despite everything feeling right in the universe when he’s with Simon, the universe still seems to be against them, because just as he feels his body so close to the brink of release, he hears a loud knocking noise and stern, angry talking outside his door.
Simon quickly pulls off of him, sliding away from him slightly, and Wille wills himself to sit up, his whole body complaining at the action after being so fucking close to letting go.
“What’s happening?” Simon asks him, with worry in his eyes, and Wille can’t help but feel furious that this is the life they have to live. One where he can’t even allow himself to complete a single orgasm because he is being pulled in a thousand different directions by everyone who wants a piece of him. He knows he’s not in danger, his bodyguards are outside the door to protect him, but his whole body is still flaming with anger at how Simon’s face that was completely blissful and serene with pleasure a minute ago is now scrunched into worried and confused lines.
“I don’t know,” he answers, sure he’s looking equally as confused and worried as Simon looks. “But get clothes on, and stay here, okay?”
The connotation of the words dawn on both Wille and Simon at the same time, both remembering the last time he had told Simon to stay in his apartment while he went to fix something. But this time is different. He isn’t denying Simon in an interview this time, he’s heading off to protect him with everything he has.
He pulls on the first items of clothing he finds on the floor, which he’s pretty sure are his pants and Simon’s top, but he doesn’t have time to fix it. With one last shared glance between them, he exits the bedroom and heads toward his apartment door.
As he gets closer, he’s startled to hear that the voice causing all the commotion is his mother’s. His legs stop walking for a moment, until he wills himself to keep stepping forward.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he hears Malin, his favorite bodyguard, say on the other side of the door. “It’s well past evening and I am sure the Prince is asleep inside. I cannot allow you through the door without his permission. I have knocked on the door… and so have you,” he can hear the disdain in Malin’s voice, “and the Prince is not answering. I’m afraid you will have to return tomorrow morning.”
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” he hears his mother reply to Malin, and his boiling blood bubbles even hotter to the surface at the way she sounds. “I’m the one that hired you to protect my son, and I will be the one to fire you as well.”
“You hired me to protect the Prince, and so that is what I’m doing. We operate under rules you’ve set for us, and I would rather be fired than break those rules and compromise the safety of the person I have been hired to protect.”
Wille thinks he’s in love with Malin. From the way his mother has been stunned into silence on the other side of the door from Malin’s words, he knows he’s most definitely in love with Malin. He needs to thank her as soon as possible. But to thank her, he realizes she would need to still have her job. He doesn’t want to be the reason Malin’s lost her position, so before his mother can knock loudly on the door again, he swings it open, coming face to face with his mother.
“Wilhelm!” She chastises him, her volume closer to a shout. “What have you done? Is this boy really so important to you that you’ve done all of this? I thought we’d had our talk and decided it was best to minimize and forget this problem, not publicly make suggestions about your personal choices like that!” She pauses for a moment, watching as her face is so pinched it’s nearly twitching. “And what on earth are you wearing?”
His instinct is to yell, or to cry, or to fall against the wood floor and have a panic attack so large he may die of hyperventilation. But he thinks of what he has to lose. Who he has to lose. The boy who is sitting in his bedroom waiting for him to come back, and who has had yet another intimate moment with Wille tainted by something out of there control. There will be no running away this time. No ‘minimizing and forgetting’ all of this. He’s going to fight.
“First of all,” he spits back, and the feeling of an absolutely eerie sense of calm washes over him. “I did not ‘publicly make suggestions’ about my ‘personal choice.’ Being who I am, my sexuality, loving the person I love isn’t a choice, it is a part of who I am, and a part of myself I want people to know. And for the millionth time, that boy’s name is Simon, and I love him. I am so fucking in love with him that there is nothing on this world that you could say or do to change that.”
His mother looks what he can only describe as in shock, him having never stood up to her the way that he just did, and he especially has never swore at her. He doesn’t regret even spitting that profanity at her though, and he hopes Simon can hear all this. He hopes his boyfriend has proof of how Wille is ready to fight for him with no remorse now. Ready to use any means necessary to keep the boy he loves tucked safely in his heart, in the same way he’s sure he’s tucked into Simon’s heart too.
After a moment, her face falls into some sort of resignation, and she finally speaks again, her voice quieter, and with far less of an edge, but words still painted with the hint of venom anyway. “You’re really not going to give up on this, are you?”
He shakes his head, “never.”
She sighs a heavy sigh, like she’s just surrendered to an enemy army in the biggest battle of her life, but is now about to face an even larger fight.
“Then there are some things we will need to discuss… with Simon.” She finally says his name, and though she says it harshly, it isn’t exactly full of hatred like the way she was speaking a few minutes ago. “If you really are officially courting him, then there will have to be a better announcement than your speech on the news. Some sort of live appearance with the both of you.”
He can’t believe what his mother is saying. Is she actually giving him and Simon her blessing? Or perhaps not her full acceptance of them but at least her acknowledgment?
“He will agree to etiquette classes,” his mother continues.
“Is that a question?”
“It absolutely is not.”
“I don’t know if we can force him to-”
“-I’ll do the class.” He hears Simon’s voice break into their conversation, and he whips his head around to where Simon is standing in the bedroom doorway, dressed in his own pants, but Wille’s sweatshirt.
“Oh,” his mother answers, surprised, clearly not knowing Simon was still here. “He is still here.” She turns to look at Wille with her signature look of disappointment that he has experienced a myriad of times throughout his life, which makes him feel small, even after standing up to her so successfully.
“I’m still here,” Simon instantly takes the attention off of him, bravely shining the spotlight on himself in front of the queen of the country he has lived in almost his entire life. He saunters forward, confident and calculated, looking the very picture of the impudent, charming bartender that Wille first fell in love with. He extends his hand, fingers still decorated with a few rings, the two of them having been in too much of a hurry to touch each other for him to take them off.
Simon looks at his mother intensely, with brown eyes so dark they look black, except for the small amount of light reflecting off them which reminds Wille of the moon shining brightly against the blackness of a clear night. He can’t even tell where Simon’s pupils end and where the irises begin. It’s beautiful. It’s captivating. And it’s unfortunately, inappropriately reminding a certain part of him that he never got his release and finished what he and Simon had started in the bedroom.
His thoughts are thankfully dispersed by his mother reaching out to take Simon’s hand, allowing Simon’s firm grip and movement to complete the handshake. “I’m Simon,” he says, “it’s nice to finally meet you, Your Majesty.”
For the first time since Wille has met Simon, there is no mockery in the way he says her title, and he feels his heart melt with appreciation for Simon. Appreciation for his boyfriend acting so genuinely courteously because he knows how important this is for Wille, despite Simon being painfully aware of how much dislike the Queen holds for him.
Wille watches as his mother forces an extremely fake, half-hearted public appearance smile on her face and replies, “You may call me Kristina… it is nice to finally meet you as well.”
Simon nods seriously, and releases her hand. Is it inappropriate to swoon so hard because of his boyfriend that he passes out on the floor in front of his mother? Probably. He realizes he hasn’t spoken in a while, and it is probably best for him to say something.
“Mother, I-”
“Do you anticipate your father and his addictions being a problem in the future for your image, which in turn will now affect the Royal Court’s?” His mother asks Simon pointedly, and Wille feels his stomach drop at the flash of hurt that flickers across Simon’s face, before his eyes return to their endless pool of neutral darkness.
“You shouldn’t just ask him-”
“- I am aware that my father has struggled with, and continues to struggle with addiction,” Simon cuts Wille off, his eyes never leaving the Queen’s. His expression is challenging, as if he’s daring the queen of his country to disagree with him. “I have learned that recovery from addiction is not a straight line. I can not be sure of, or responsible for his actions in the future, but I can assure you that I won’t be associating myself with him any longer, unless he demonstrates to me that he has stopped using over a very long period of time, something that has not yet happened since he started.” Simon pauses for a moment, allowing his eyes to flicker to meet Wille’s for a moment, before returning right back to his mother’s. “Does that sufficiently answer your question, Kristina?”
She nods sharply, and that’s all the victory Wilhelm needs to jump in. “Mama, it’s getting late. I’m sure you need to be heading back home, or at least to sleep. We will schedule a time the day after tomorrow to discuss any other details of our relationship that need addressing.”
He makes it clear by his tone that he is set on this, and his mother simply agrees and heads toward the door. As she turns the knob she turns back to face them and asks, “you are both sure this is what you want?”
“We’re way past sure,” Simon answers, before Wille can, so all he does is nod in agreement. His mother looks them over once again and exits his apartment.
They simply gaze at each other, trying to take in the fact that though they have made it official together, they are now official in the eyes of Wille’s parents, and that makes them unable to wipe the grins off of their faces.
“Your mama,” he whispers into the quiet, wrapping himself around Simon and smiling as Simon immediately lays his head against his shoulder, as if they’ve been doing this for a hundred years, “would be really proud of you for standing up so much for what you want.”
He hears Simon sniffle against his neck and feels him nod, and he holds onto Simon tightly with one arm, and rubs his other hand in circles along Simon’s back with the other.
Simon takes his head up off of his shoulder and blinks away the mist in his eyes. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Wille’s lips, as soft and fleeting as a butterfly’s wing.
“Hey,” Simon whispers quietly, looking so soulfully into Wille’s eyes as his hands slide from where they were holding onto him in their embrace down Wille’s body and onto his hips.
“Hey,” he replies just as softly, thoroughly distracted by the way Simon’s hands are just barely resting on his hips, with his thumbs rubbing back and forth.
“We never got to finish what we started,” Simon says, tilting his head. Wille’s mesmerized as he watches as his boyfriend’s eyes seem to darken.
Wille gulps, that feeling of tingling warmth and want flying through his body right to where he had been so close before they had been interrupted. In reality, it was only him who hadn’t finished what they’d started, Simon had gotten his release. The fact that this was true but Simon was still referring to it as both of them not getting to finish because Wille hadn’t, makes his heart squeeze with how equal and important Simon makes him feel.
“Can we?” He says, voice catching in his throat.
Simon nods and says “I want to make you feel good too,” dropping his hands from Wille’s hips. He intertwines his right and Wille’s left hand together, and uses his free hand to hold Wille’s cheek and presses another kiss to his lips, this one slightly more heated than the previous.
Simon’s phone rings as a FaceTime call comes in and they break apart the kiss too soon. “You have got to be kidding me,” Simon groans, heading over to go shut it off.
“Hey!” He banters at Simon, “See! You didn’t shut off your phone either!”
“Yeah, but my phone isn’t the one that tried to cockblock us,” he replies with a cheeky grin.
“This is the very definition of cockblocking,” Wille argues back, heading over toward where Simon is picking up his phone.
“Well at least it didn’t happen when someone’s leg is actually on your cock like you did to me.”
Wille flushes and Simon grins. Assuming Simon’s going to shut off his phone, he steps into Simon’s space and leans in to kiss the grin off his face.
Simon ducks out of the way and answers the FaceTime just as Wille is barely an inch away from his lips, and smiles victoriously at Wille, who sighs in annoyance.
As soon as Simon connects the call the two boys hear excited yelling and chaos. Wille walks to stand behind Simon to see what’s happening, and Simon angles the phone so they can both see. Rosh, Ayub, Sara, and Felice are all screaming incoherently over FaceTime, and Wille is too busy being confused at how Felice is there with Simon’s friends and sister to figure out what they’re saying.
“Okay everyone shush real quick!” Felice shouts excitedly. “You guys?! What?! This is so exciting!”
“How are you with them?” Wille asks, confused.
“Felice saw your coming out on the news first and ran to find me because she knows Simon’s my brother!”
“And then Sara was like ‘we need to go find Ayub now!’” Felice adds.
“And then the two of them, like, busted into my room and woke me up. I thought someone died!” Says Ayub.
“And then Ayub called me and I got to his dorm as fast as I could!” Rosh finishes. It’s so hard to keep up with all four of them talking over each other almost all at the same time, but he gets the general picture.
“Congratulations you guys!”
“Congrats!”
“Yeah congrats man!”
“So proud!”
There are so many shouts and hollers from over the phone that Simon and Wille both cringe and laugh at the mixture of static noise happening with all the combined audio.
“When did you even decide to do this! Wille, you didn’t tell me!” Felice squeaks, clearly not upset, just excited.
“Is this what happened after I left your dorm?” Rosh asks.
“I, uh… yeah,” Simon answers, and their friends all cheer and holler again. Wille feels himself flushing.
“Can we come say congrats? Where are you guys?” Sara asks.
Simon and Wille lock eyes, clearly both thinking of what they were about to start before they were interrupted once again, this time by their friends.
“Uhh, it’s getting kinda late Sara,” Simon answers, “do you want to come over tomorrow instead?”
Wille sneaks a glance at Simon and tries to keep himself from turning pink, simply nodding at Simon’s suggestion.
“Oh my god look at them!” Ayub whistles, “they were totally about to-”
Sara smacks Ayub and effectively shuts him up before he can finish his sentence. “Nope, nope, nope. Don’t say that,” she says, shaking her head.
Rosh and Felice look at Sara, then at the screen, obviously seeing how embarrassed all of them are, before looking at each other and bursting out laughing.
“Alright, alright, we’ll let you get to it,” Rosh grins with a raised eyebrow to which Simon replies “bye, I hate you,” before hanging up the call.
Simon looks up at him, and their eyes lock for a moment before they both burst out laughing. “Oh my god,” he says, grabbing Simon’s hand and tugging him hastily toward the bedroom, “let’s please before anything else happens!”
Simon lets Wille drag him along, laughing behind him. He drags him through the door, only letting go of him to shut it. At the way the door slams shut loudly, Simon snorts and says “someone’s eager.”
In response, he mutters a “shut up,” before shoving Simon roughly against said door and kissing him eagerly. Perhaps Simon does have a point after all. Simon laughs into their kiss and Wille presses him harder against the door.
“It’s understandable,” Simon gasps as Wille starts working on planting open mouthed kisses to his neck, “How could you not be eager when I’m so good in bed?”
Wille stops the trail of heated kisses he’s been painting Simon’s neck with, and simply looks up at Simon instead in order to tease him back and disagree. But how can he? Simon is so good in bed. He isn’t sure how to deny it so he simply shakes his head at him.
“Wow,” Simon responds, moving a hand from Wille’s shoulder to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, before letting it rest in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re not even going to try to make fun of me for saying that? Disappointing,” Simon jokes.
Wille shrugs, “it’s true,” he says, reaching for the hem of Simon’s, or technically his, sweatshirt. He tugs it upward, and Simon puts his arms up, making it easier for Wille to take it off. The second it’s off, he can’t keep his eyes away from the toned muscles of Simon’s arms and abdomen, nor can he keep his hands from immediately exploring the warm, smoothe, expanse of his golden skin. He kisses him again and Simon sighs contently.
When they break apart, Simon looks down at where Wille’s hands are still tracing the entirety of his chest, and it looks like he’s thinking something. “What?” He asks, and Simon smiles softly.
“Do you remember the second time we saw each other? And you were staring at my chest like you are now?”
“I was not staring!”
“You so were.”
“Fine, maybe I was, so what?” Wille asks, feeling the warmth in his cheeks. “It’s not my fault you were wearing a lace shirt. ”
“Oh you liked that shirt, did you?”
“No,”
“Mhm… sure you didn’t,” Simon smiles, tugging the back of his hair gently as he kisses Wille again. He covers Wille’s hand on his chest and looks back up at him. “Is this what you were thinking about when you were staring at me?”
Not wanting to admit he most definitely was thinking of how his hands would feel against Simon’s chest when he was staring at his shirt in the bar that day, he diverts the subject slightly. “You mean right before you said to me ‘my eyes are up here.’”
“Yeah, that’s the moment.” Simon smiles mischievously, “you were so embarrassed.”
“I was not!”
“You were blushing so hard. It was adorable,” Simon continues, reaching to pinch at Wille’s cheeks. “You’re also blushing now.”
Wille groans and forces himself to look away from Simon’s eyes, absolutely glimmering with trouble. “I bet I can make you blush some more,” Simon grins, and Wille responds, “I’m not sure that’s a bet I should take.”
“You’re right, it isn’t,” Simon says. “What if I told you the reason I said that was because I actually couldn’t stand you looking at my body like that, knowing I couldn’t have you .”
Simon was right, he is most definitely blushing harder. He leans in to kiss him so that Simon can’t see he’s succeeded, and whispers against his lips, “well you can have me now.”
Simon groans and slides his hand down Wille’s pants in response, grabbing at him over his boxers. He presses his hips into Simon’s hand, desperate to chase the feeling and lets Simon walk him backward to the bed. When his thighs reach the mattress, Simon pushes him down onto it and climbs on top of him. He connects their lips and gently pushes Wille backward until his head is laying against the pillows. He traces his jaw with his lips, not even kissing him, which makes Wille squirm at the way Simon’s hot breath feels along his jaw and neck, eventually reaching his ear.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Simon whispers hotly, and sits up to tug off Wille’s shirt. He slides off Wille’s pants and boxers too, pressing a kiss to his lower stomach which sends a shiver through him. He watches as Simon’s eyes hungrily trace the entirety of his body, and it feels like he’s burning everywhere his eyes travel. Simon traces his fingers from his collarbone, down his arms, and then rests them on his thighs. “Wille, you’re so-” he presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh- “enchanting.”
Simon’s words make his stomach flutter, and as he presses more heated kisses to the inside of his thigh, he can’t take it anymore. “Simon- please- need you to- please.” He’s not even quite sure what he’s begging for.
He watches as Simon, clearly satisfied with the state he’s put Wille in, licks over his slit. He obviously notices the way it makes him shudder, because he repeats the action, making him groan and drop his head into the pillows. Simon continues taking him apart in a way that has him gasping for air and tugging on the sheets. He does everything he can to hold his composure, but from Simon’s movements, and the way he’s so intently watching all his reactions, he whines into the room. “Simon, so good, please, I want-”
Simon stops his rhythm then, and pulls off of him, looking at Wille with devastating red lips and messy hair from the way Wille’s hands have been in it. He groans and pushes his hips up, and Simon pushes him back down. “What do you want?” Simon asks.
“I don’t know,” he replies, never having been good at asking for what it is that he wants. It’s never really mattered to most people anyway.
“Wille, what do you want?” Simon repeats, slower and more emphasized.
And the truth is, he knows exactly what he wants, but he’s too nervous to ask. He wants Simon, wants to feel all of him. But he doesn’t know how to ask for the two of them to do this. There’s definitely no indirect way to do so, and he doesn’t want to ruin this moment. He feels so silly because it’s not like he’s never gone all the way with someone before. But he has never done it with Simon, and everything feels different with Simon.
“Wilhelm,” Simon says his full name, commanding his attention and pulling him out of his thoughts. “You know if you tell me I’ll do it, right?”
And god, he definitely wants to do this with Simon. “I want…” he takes a breath to steady his nerves, and then says more confidently than he was expecting. “I want to have sex with you. All the way, Simon. But only if you want to as well.”
Simon looks a little stunned, and he internally starts to panic, all the confidence he’d somehow found starting to leave him. “If not, that’s okay, we don’t have to-”
Simon’s laying his entire body weight on top of him, kissing him into the pillows so ardently, before rolling off of him to lay beside him. “Yes. Fuck. I really want to,” Simon replies.
“Are you sure?”
“If you’re sure then I’m really fucking sure.”
“Yeah?” Wille asks, unable to keep his excited smile off his face, which Simon instantly mirrors with a sparking one of his own.
“Yeah,” Simon breathes. “I just knew that I’ve done this before with other guys, and I know that you haven’t, so I figured it was only fair for me to wait until you were ready on your own.”
God he really fucking loves this boy. “I’m definitely ready, can we, please, ” he pleads, now that his nerves have left him he’s once again too aware of how turned on he is.
Simon nods and turns onto his back, pressing his lower body up with his legs so he can slide off his pants. Wille takes over, repeating the action with his underwear, Simon’s breath faltering as he does so.
“Do you have, um,” Simon seems flustered all of a sudden, and butterflies flap around his stomach and chest at getting to see him like this. At being the one to make him like this. He nods, knowing what Simon means, and climbs off the bed to open his nightstand drawer for what they need. The whole time he feels Simon watching him, and the notion makes him struggle to open the packet. Simon scoots to the edge of the bed and snatches it from his hands, ripping it open with ease.
He rolls his eyes at Simon and lays back on the bed next to him, allowing Simon to gently roll the condom onto him. He presses his lips to Simon’s and relishes in the needy noises Simon makes into the kiss as his fingers trace over the curve of his ass and stop near his rim.
He breaks away for a moment to squeeze the contents of the bottle into his fingers and pushes just the tip of his finger slowly inside. He looks at Simon’s face, eyes now closed. He experimentally works his finger into Simon, eliciting soft, stuttering breaths, and quiet moans.
After a little, Wille slides his finger in a bit more then stops, not wanting to hurt him. Simon opens his eyes and props himself up on his elbows to look at Wille and nods reassuringly at him. “You can add another,” Simon smiles encouragingly at Wille, looking radiant.
So he does, and begins to learn what movements from his fingers elicit which gasps and whimpers, before adding a third. He eventually finds the place that makes Simon lose it, and repeats this angle until Simon repeatedly lets out broken noises, gasping and arching his hips into his hand.
“Please, I’m ready, please Wille-uh!” He whines into the room, barely audible. As he slides his fingers out, he watches every one of Simon’s reactions. He’s seen Simon in so many different ways. Good ones, and bad ones, but throughout every single moment, Simon is always devastatingly, and impossibly beautiful. He has never seen Simon in this way though, and it’s like there’s an angel laid out on the bed in front of him, for him.
He’s clearly been staring at Simon for more than a brief moment, because Simon opens his eyes and asks “Wille? Are you okay?”
He nods and kisses Simon’s jaw, nose, then lips gently, content at how Simon smiles pleasantly at this action. “Yeah,” he laughs, “I think I got distracted by how pretty you are.”
“Welcome to my world,” Simon huffs and rolls his eyes dramatically, “I literally can’t get a damn thing done ever because I’m always thinking about how pretty you are.”
“We’re so stupid.”
“Yeah, we are,” Simon agrees. Wille leans down for another kiss, and Simon presses himself up off the mattress to meet him halfway. “Now can the stupid boy please continue? I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on and I might actually die if you don’t do something soon.”
“You’re so dramatic!”
“Well maybe if I’m dramatic you’ll get inside of me!”
At Simon’s directness, Wille gasps and immediately obliges his request, moving to line himself up with Simon’s entrance. Their eyes lock in an intensity he has never experienced, and he gently pushes into Simon, feeling utterly and wholly lost in the way they fit together so perfectly. Simon’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open in a silent moan.
There are no words to describe the way it feels being so intimately close to the boy he loves with all his heart. No poems, no words, ones that have been invented, or ever will be invented, could ever be enough to capture this.
“You okay?” He asks, and Simon shakily nods.
“So okay,” Simon replies, “just please move.”
His pace is slow, not wanting to hurt Simon, but also wanting to savor every reaction that his movements elicit from the boy for as long as possible. Every moan, every whimper, every time he grabs at the sheets or whispers Wille’s name.
* * *
In the morning, Wille wakes up to golden light from the sun peeking in through the curtains, and to the sound of Simon’s stomach growling loudly. Every time he has ever woken up next to Simon, he’s always draped nearly entirely on top of Wille, and he smiles at how this morning is no exception. Despite the noise from Simon, he seems to be still asleep, so Wille brushes his fingers across his forehead gently and then through his hair.
Simon opens one eye and groans at the light, before shutting it again and rolling onto his stomach to shove his face into the pillow.
“Hi,” Wille says into the soft morning light of the room.
“Hi,” he thinks he hears a muffled voice respond from somewhere deep inside a pillow.
“You are really not a morning person.”
“Only weird people are morning people,” Simon replies, shifting onto his side to face him.
“I’m a morning person,” he pouts.
“Well there you go. Case and point.”
“Rude.”
Simon smiles sweetly, “I love youuuu.”
“Yeah, yeah, I love you too… you’re sticky.”
“Well whose fault is that?” Simon laughs with his rough morning voice.
“Yours,” he answers, “it’s your mess.”
“Okay and who caused that mess?”
“No clue.”
“Right.”
He pushes his body against Simon’s despite them both needing a shower and kisses him softly.
“Your breath is disgusting,” Simon giggles as he covers Wille’s mouth with his hand.
“Oh, is it?” He asks, wrestling Simon’s arms down, trying to kiss him again despite Simon’s half-hearted struggles to break free. Simon’s stomach growls loudly again, making them both giggle and pause their little wrestling match. “Do you want something to eat?”
Simon bites Wille’s shoulder and says, “I could eat.” Wille rolls his eyes fondly and kisses his ridiculous boyfriend again. “See?” Simon says, “you taste so good.”
“Didn’t you just say two seconds ago that my breath was disgusting?”
“Can’t a boy change his mind?” Simon sighs, kissing him again and letting his fingers dance along Wille’s collarbone, almost as if he’s playing the piano. Wille feels a trickle of heat flow down his body, but Simon’s stomach growls for the third time, and he sits up before Simon can say anything else that will surely prevent him from leaving this bed.
The room seems to get a little darker and Wille gets up, grabs a pair of sweatpants that he puts on, and pushes aside the curtain to see it’s started to rain. “Go shower and I’ll make us some breakfast.”
“Bossy,” Simon says, but he complies anyway.
* * *
He’s just finished making their french toast as Simon arrives in the kitchen, dressed as usual in one of Wille’s sweatshirts, with damp curls framing his face. The thought that this could always be his life makes him feel warm to the tips of his toes. A life where they cook breakfast for each other, wake up next to each other, start their days together, end their days together, it’s everything he could ever want. They finish their breakfast after a little while, teasing each other as usual back and forth over nothing at all, before heading to the couch. After how hectic the past twenty-four hours have been, it’s so incredibly nice to simply do nothing at all together. He listens to the sound of the rain softly pattering against the windows as Simon curls up closer to him, laying his head and as much of his body as he can fit in Wille’s lap.
“Who knew my boyfriend was just like a cat,” he quips, gently playing with Simon’s curls. Simon just shrugs the shoulder that he’s not laying on, and Wille can barely see the hint of his smile from the way Simon’s facing away from him. Simon mindlessly runs his finger along Wille’s sweatpants and they both bask in finally having a rare moment of pure silence and serenity.
His whole life he’s never been able to choose what he’s wanted. And truth be told, even if he were allowed to choose, it wouldn’t have mattered because he’d never really known what he’d wanted anyway. But now he does. He knows so surely and so deeply that everything he wants and everything he could possibly need is here, physically laying in his lap. Could the universe make it any more obvious?
He holds the boy he loves in his arms even tighter, and Simon melts into him, whispering “I love you,” for no reason at all except to say it. Throughout Wille’s whole life he hasn’t really been sure if he believes in a heaven or in a god, but it doesn’t matter anymore, because he is sure that he’s existing in a heaven on earth.
“I’m yours Simon. Forever,” he says, not even thinking about it before he does so, because he doesn’t need to. He knows nothing has ever been more true. It feels insane to have finally admitted that out loud. Something he’s only ever thought over and over again every waking moment but never said. Something so grand yet so private, so intimate. But at the same time, it doesn’t feel outlandish at all to admit. It feels right. It feels obvious.
“Forever,” Simon says, turning to look up at him so softly, a smile playing on his lips. “That’s a really long time.”
“It is,” he replies, leaning in to press a kiss to Simon’s ever brightening grin. And it is. Forever is a really long time, but it feels inevitable, the two of them together. Because Wilhelm and Simon are forever. Wilhelm and Simon are infinite.