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“Simon,” Wille panted. “Look at me.”
Simon had his head lolled to the side, and moaned loudly at the sound of his name, but his eyes stayed screwed shut. The slide of their skin was sticky sweet, and Wille could feel every inch of Simon, he could taste him everywhere, and he was overcome with the need for Simon to see what he was doing to him.
“Look at me, baby,” Wille panted again, but to no avail. Simon's mouth was open, his eyes screwed shut, his breaths coming out forcefully; he responded to Wille by raising his hips slightly, a sign he was still there, still enjoying himself, but lost in the pleasure.
He looked beautiful, but Wille needed something more.
He reached for the leather strap in the bed next to him and traced the strip up, up, up, towards where it met with Simon's body. He pulled firmly. Not hard, but enough that the movement finally roused Simon out of his trance, jerking his head only slighty, and his eyes shot open. He let out the most beautiful, broken noise.
“I want you to look at me,” Wille instructed, keeping the leash taught. Simon nodded desperately, his eyes trained on Wille's face as he pushed inside of him again.
“Fuck,” Simon moaned, blinking up at Wille.
“You feel so good, my love, I needed you to see me. See what you're doing to me.” Just as Wille anticipated, Simon couldn’t handle the words. His brow creased, his head lolled back in pleasure, and his eyes swept closed. The defiance, however innocent, brought a pinch of anger to Wille’s gut. On another day, perhaps he would let Simon chase that bliss, that other place they sometimes sent each other. But today Wille felt selfish. Today Wille needed Simon there, present with him in every sense. He wanted to watch Simon watching him, wanted to see how good he was making him feel. And he wasn’t listening.
Supporting himself on just one arm, Wille threaded a finger under the leather strap, between the soft fabric of the collar and Simon's pretty, pretty neck.
“Baby, I asked you to look at me,” he huffed, thrusting hard into Simon and grinding deeper, cruelly so. Simon only moaned harder, wrapping his legs around Wille, his instincts to follow rearing beautifully. Wille’s words finally registered and he opened his eyes again. They were teary, brow ruffled, lips pulled open; he had spit and sweat smeared over his mouth, his eyelashes were all clumped together, and Wille did that to him. Wille made him feel that good, like he could let go completely in his arms. Wille went still on top of Simon, resting inside of him. Simon’s eyes were wide and glistening, finally rapt. Finally, his focus was set on Wille.
Simon’s face was flushed from exertion, and his heart beat wildly in his chest. Their sweat and skin were so molded it was impossible to tell where Wille ended and Simon began.
“Doesn’t really seem like you’re listening,” Wille breathed, pushing two fingers under the collar again, right over Simon’s Adam’s apple. Simon shuddered from the pressure. “Maybe we should take it off, if it’s not helping,” Wille prompted, and Simon nodded, then shook his head.
“I - I’ll listen, I’m sorry.” Wille considered him for a moment. He wondered if it was time to break, if he should drop the act. Simon looked so peaceful before he made them stop. But the hunger for Simon’s attention gripped him again, and Wille made a split second decision. Deftly, he unclasped the collar and leash and threw them to the side. Simon’s head whipped towards the movement, then back at Wille.
“What -”
“Maybe I should’ve been using my hands,” Wille breathed, trailing his fingers up Simon’s breastbone until they reached the base of his throat. Ever so lightly, Wille let his fingers map the edges of Simon’s neck until they reached the middle point, and then he squeezed.
“Ahh,” Simon gasped at the pressure, his eyes blazing open.
“How are you doing?” Wille asked softly, gently nipping at Simon’s earlobe. “Won’t do it unless you tell me.”
“It’s good,” Simon moaned, nodding furiously. Wille grinned, he couldn’t help it; it was just the reaction he had been waiting for. He increased the pressure slightly, placing the pressure on either side of Simon’s neck and avoiding the middle column. He needed to make sure Simon was able to breathe, that he was only causing him the most pleasurable types of pain.
“Good. I don’t need a collar to show you that you are mine,” Wille panted, bringing his hips back and fucking into Simon. “You will look at me.”
Simon wailed, melodically and drawn out, his torso moving up and down the bed sheets with Wille’s thrusts. This time, he kept his gaze focused on Wille, despite how absolutely destroyed he sounded. It was selfish, and it was cruel, but it was the most erotic thing Wille had ever seen in his life; his lover there, ever-present, taking every part that Wille gave to him and then some, taking it all so dutifully.
Wille reached between them and took Simon in his hands. He was half tempted to be terribly slow, to bring Simon to the edge and then stop, to have Simon clutching at Wille’s shoulders and pleading in his ear to let him finish. But the need to have them present, looking at each other, pace for pace won out, and Wille took Simon’s hand in his and stroked his pretty cock, in just the rhythm he wanted, and Simon finally stopped moaning and pleading. His mouth fell open, and he just stared at Wille desperately, jaw slack and eyes brimming with tears.
“It’s okay, you can let go,” Wille prompted, softening at the look in Simon’s eyes. He grunted, losing all control as he felt Simon swell where he pressed into him. It was a maddening pleasure, how Simon’s body brought him to the edge right along with him, and he shuddered through it.
Simon cried out, releasing into Wille’s fist, and Wille tumbled over the edge not a moment later.
Wille steepled his temple over Simon’s, letting his weight fall completely onto his boyfriend’s chest for just a moment. Simon was panting just as hard, his eyes closed. Wille brushed his thumb up the column of Simon’s neck. Simon let out the smallest sound and opened his eyes.
“I love you,” he panted. Wille pushed off of him and rested his head in the crook of Simon’s neck and buried kisses there where his fingers had been.