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1.
The first time it happens, Simon is standing in front of an ornate mirror in Wilhelm’s bedroom at Drottningholm Palace, the two of them getting dressed for Wilhelm’s birthday dinner. He‘s eighteen today, which Simon somehow feels is too grown up and too young all at once.
They’d spent all day at the castle, the both of them playing tag like children despite being told off multiple times by various staff members.
Finally, after Simon had tripped and ended up face down on the dining room floor, Kristina had put her face in her hands in exasperation and banished the two of them out into the gardens where they’d spent long, glorious, sun-soaked hours making out by the lake.
Even now, despite the late hour, the sun is just barely skimming beneath the horizon, the sky still painted a plethora of pinks and oranges.
Behind him, Wilhelm is struggling with his tie, a suit jacket thrown around his shoulders. Simon watches him work, more than a little mesmerized.
Wilhelm is gorgeous in the summer, all ruddy, freckled cheeks and tumbling gold hair. His shoulders are starting to fill out and just last week, Simon had noticed, with a sudden swoop in his stomach, exactly how far back he had to tilt his head to look up at him.
“You’re staring.”
Abruptly, Simon snaps his gaze back to the mirror, heat prickling up his spine at being caught. His own hair is tousled from a day well spent, curls wild in that way he knows Wille likes. “Sorry.”
Behind him, Wille laughs. When he moves to crowd close, his chest is firm against Simon’s back, warm even through two layers of fabric. “Why are you sorry?” he ducks, stamping his chin into the crook of Simon’s shoulder and kissing the side of his neck. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen already.”
Simon swallows, sparks lighting in his stomach when Wilhelm reaches around to help him with his tie.
“Also - Mama said to come down around six,” he continues, warm breath hitting Simon’s ear. “We’re having drinks together first. You know, since it’s technically supposed to be my first one.”
Simon snorts, “There’s no way your mama believes that.”
Wilhelm shrugs, smoothing elegant, pale fingers over Simon’s now neat tie and pressing a smile into his cheek. They’re so beautiful together, Simon thinks faintly, eyes caught on their reflection, drinking in the way Wilhelm is wrapped around him.
“I know,” Wilhelm replies, smiling crookedly, “but it’ll still be fun. And I’m pretty sure papa just bought a few different wines for us to try - it’s not like we’re doing shots or anything.”
Simon turns to face him, looping his arms around his shoulders. “Don’t get too drunk, okay?” he nuzzles in close, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of Wilhelm’s mouth. Their hips graze, Wilhelm’s belt buckle digging into the soft flesh of his stomach. “I want you to be able to have dessert.”
Wilhelm’s mouth opens on a gentle inhale. His eyes are dark and sweet as they flit between Simon’s. His voice drops to a low whisper. “And what’s on the menu for dessert?”
Simon shrugs, smoothing his palms down the collar of Wilhelm’s shirt, “You tell me. It’s your birthday.”
Wilhelm hums thoughtfully, leaning down to kiss him. When his eyes flicker to the mirror, though, the very air in Simon’s lungs thins. “What if - ” he trails off, biting down on his lower lip.
Simon’s mouth feels dry. “What if what?”
Wilhelm looks at him for a moment, his eyes molten. “What if you got on your knees right here?” He presses a thumb to the center of Simon’s bottom lip, hard enough to dent, “You could watch yourself. See what I see.”
Heat pools low in his stomach as Simon tries to imagine it, tries to imagine himself like that, in that position, eyes flickering between himself and Wille, not knowing where to look first, watching pale hands tighten in his hair, watching his mouth stretch around Wilhelm’s cock under warm, dim light.
His voice is barely audible when he speaks next. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” Wille smiles. He kisses his forehead, the tip of his nose, thumbing affectionately at the jut of his jaw. “You’re so pretty, Simon. I love you so much.”
Simon’s head feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, his blood roaring in his ears. He’s never been told anything like that before, not even by Wilhelm, and it shocks him down to his bones, a flutter of birds taking flight in his stomach. “I am?”
Wilhelm laughs as he steps away, shrugging into his suit jacket. “Now you’re just fishing,” he teases, far too lighthearted for the embers he’s stoked in Simon’s chest. “You know exactly what you look like.” Then, he checks his watch and immediately winces, “Fuck - you might want to put pants on. We have to go soon.”
2.
It becomes a strange sort of game. At least it does in Simon’s head. And it’s not like Wilhelm has ever shied away from complimenting him before, but this feels different.
A new language entirely.
One dreary afternoon, they’re walking down a busy street in the rain, Wilhelm talking with his hands while Simon does his best to keep the two of them dry under an umbrella definitely only made for one. It doesn’t help that Wilhelm is taller than him either, making Simon’s arm hurt from having to keep his elbow more lifted than is really comfortable.
Suddenly, Wilhelm pauses, his words and body coming to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk. Simon only narrowly catches himself before he steps on the heel of his shoe. “Wille?”
Wille takes the umbrella from him, pulling him into his side. “Would you ever wear something like that?” He asks, pointing to a nearby shop window.
Simon blinks, following the gesture until he spots the mannequin in question. It takes him a second to fully process the slinky, sheer button down, a far cry from anything he has in his wardrobe. “Uh - maybe? Why do you ask?”
Wilhelm shrugs, turning to drop an absentminded kiss to the top of his head. “I don’t know. I just think you’d look good in it.”
“I wouldn’t know how to wear it,” Simon admits. Truthfully, he doesn’t spend a lot of time getting dressed in the morning. It’s not like his internship at the studio really requires more than jeans and a simple crewneck anyway. His clothes are formulaic, functional.
In fact, between the two of them, Wilhelm is the one that’s actually interested in them. Simon likes to watch him on sleepy mornings, still cuddled up in bed, as Wille hunts for a specific belt or watch, complaining that his coat doesn’t go with his shoes.
“You know those slacks I got you a few weeks ago?” Wille asks, pausing briefly for Simon’s acknowledging hum. “They would look great with it.”
Simon feels his brows furrow in an effort to understand, but the image of it goes up in smoke. He doesn’t know how Wille does this in his mind’s eye - Simon would actually need to try all of it on to get the full picture.
He stares at the shirt for a moment longer, but just as he’s about to suggest maybe going in, the rain picks up, drumming hard and heavy against the umbrella.
“Shit,” Wille mutters, taking his hand, “come on, the bus stop’s only a few minutes away.”
And that’s that.
Or it would be if Simon hadn’t come back on a whim the following week, stepping out of the store with that very shirt tucked into a bag under his arm. Oddly bashful, he waits until he’s alone to try it on properly - with the slacks as Wille had suggested.
The dark gauzy fabric drapes cool and unfamiliar across his shoulders as he checks his phone, mentally tracing the short walk he has to make to the bar where Wille will be waiting for him in less than an hour.
Surprisingly, he’s the first one there, already seated and sipping his water by the time Wille arrives in a frazzle of apologies, fumbling with his scarf.
“I’m sorry,” he rushes to explain, draping his coat across the back of his chair, “my meeting with my advisor ran over and then I missed the train.”
“That’s okay,” Simon tells him. He straightens, suddenly nervous. This is Wille, he tries to tell himself, Wille who’s seen him in every which way possible. There’s simply no reason for Simon to be nervous about something as ridiculous as a new shirt.
Still, it takes Wilhelm a few minutes to notice. “Okay,” he huffs, finally settling into his seat and picking up the menu, “what’re you thinking for - ” his eyes flicker up, words trailing off. He blinks, “Hi. Wow.”
And somehow, that’s all it takes for Simon’s nerves to evaporate. He grins. “Hi.”
Wilhelm’s face blooms with awe, his mouth parting around a silent sound. He reaches across the table to thumb at the shirt collar, “You look - ”
Sparks fizzle down Simon’s spine, “Yeah? You like it?”
Wilhelm sets his menu down, ducking in close. His eyes are liquid honey in the low light, hazy and bottomless. “Of course I do, what kind of a question is that?”
Simon leans back in his chair, biting back a grin. “I thought you might.”
Wilhelm laughs at that, clasping one of Simon’s hands in both of his own and toying with his fingers. “What’s the occasion?”
“I don’t know,” Simon’s face feels hot, “I just wanted to look - ” he swallows, something red and aching ballooning behind his ribs, “pretty, I guess. For you.”
Surprise flashes across Wilhelm’s face, gone as quickly as it appears. “Simon,” he says gently, “you know I think you’re gorgeous, right? No matter what you’re wearing.”
“I know, Wille,” Simon huffs out a light breath of laughter, twisting their fingers together. “It’s just for fun. I thought you’d like it.”
Wilhelm straightens, bringing his hand up to his mouth to press a soft kiss to the center of Simon’s palm. “Okay,” he says slowly, thoughtfully, “well I do like it. A lot.”
The intensity of his gaze makes Simon’s collar feel tight around his neck. “Good,” he says, voice hoarse. He undoes a button, mostly out of necessity.
Still, Wille gaze zeros in on the motion, his eyes blown dark and helpless. “You’re joking,” he breathes in disbelief, throat working around a swallow, “what the fuck is happening right now? I thought you were hungry.”
Simon bites back a teasing grin, “I am.” He moves to undo another button, but Wille reaches out to stop him, gripping his wrist hard.
“Don’t,” he says, voice sharp and firm in a way that has Simon’s stomach swooping, “I want you to keep it on.”
Simon almost bites his tongue. “You mean - ”
“You’ll see what I mean.”
3.
Simon is so lost in the piano, in his own voice, in making sure he hits the right keys and notes simultaneously, that he doesn’t realize Wilhelm is behind him until there are hands on his shoulders, squeezing tight and making him jump in surprise.
“Shit,” he curses, slamming his knee into the underside of the piano, skin smarting from the impact. “Fuck, you scared me, Wille.”
“Sorry,” Wilhelm murmurs, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling at him until Simon’s head is leaning back against his stomach. “I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” Simon tilts his head to smile up at the bottom of Wille’s jaw, “I was pretty much done anyway.”
Wille hums, leaning over him to kiss him upside down, “New song?”
Simon smiles against his mouth, nodding. “It’s for you.”
Wille pulls back, his eyebrows rising. Mirth dances across his face. “It always is.”
Simon shoves him. “Fuck off,” he complains, crossing his arms at Wilhelm’s laughter. “Actually, I lied. It’s for my other boyfriend.”
“Yeah?” Wilhelm snorts, “You going to introduce me?”
“Maybe,” Simon reaches for his phone, ending the audio recording. “He’s kind of a jealous asshole though. Not sure if you’d want to meet him.” He hits the play button idly, just to make sure that it turned out alright, his own voice filtering out into the room, low and sweet.
Almost at once, Wilhelm tugs him back into his body again, leaning closer to the phone. “Jesus, Simon,” he shakes his head, eyes bright, “Your voice.”
Simon squirms, a tad bashful. “Thanks.”
Wilhelm grapples for his phone, pulling it out of Simon’s grasp and cranking the volume up. “You’ll sing this for me, right? It sounds amazing. You sound amazing.”
Simon’s entire body is buzzing, giddy with barely restrained happiness. “If you want.”
Wilhelm’s gaze is burning as it sweeps over him. He takes a seat on the piano bench, Simon shifting to make room for him. “Of course I do,” he tells him, “I want to hear everything you write. I love your voice. You’re so talented, sweetheart.”
Simon looks at him for a moment, taking in Wilhelm’s soft, affectionate expression, the handsome cut of his jaw. Lightning shoots down his spine. “Do you want to hear it right now, or - ?”
Wilhelm blinks, clearly surprised. “Uh - sure? Why not?”
“I mean,” Simon says slowly. He keeps his gaze trained on him, eyes flitting between both of Wilhelm’s. He leans in close, lowering his voice, “I could also show you after?”
Wilhelm raises an eyebrow, mouth curving up wickedly. There’s something knowing tucked away in his half-smile. “After what?”
Simon grins. “You’ll see.”
+1
The apartment windows are rattling with the force of the wind as it howls, sending a flurry of snow pelting against the already frosted over glass.
Inside though, Wilhelm’s fancy, electric fireplace flickers warmly, working to both blow hot air into the room and bathe it in glowing flickers of orange and red. There’s an old American sitcom playing on the television that they’ve long since stopped watching, the volume turned down enough that the laugh track is barely audible.
Simon is straddling Wilhelm’s lap, head tilted back and groaning as teeth scrape along his jaw, pleasure zinging down his spine. “Wait,” he murmurs, “Wille, can you - ”
Wille hums, lifting his head up to kiss him. His hair is mussed from Simon’s fingers, the shock of it like a gold halo against the dark leather of the couch.
Simon huffs out a laugh. “No,” he mumbles into his mouth, shifting up on his knees even as Wilhelm makes an unhappy little noise at the distance, trying his best to pull him back down by the hips. “I meant. Can you slow down a little?”
“You’re asking me?” Wille demands, outraged, “you’re the one that’s - ”
“Fuck off,” Simon rolls his eyes heavenward, squeezing them shut when Wilhelm’s next thrust hits just right, “you know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” Wilhelm nods into his neck. His fingers slide around from Simon’s hips to cup his ass, tracing up the knobs of his spine and leaving flames in their wake. “Yeah, okay. I’ll do whatever you want. I love you so much.”
Simon clenches his jaw to keep from making a humiliating noise. He tips forward, shoulders slumping as he rests his forehead against the flushed, heated skin of Wille’s collarbone. This time, he lets Wilhelm set the pace, slow and deep just how he likes. “Shit, Wille,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, “don’t stop.”
“You’re so gorgeous,” Wilhelm tells him in response, voice hitching around every word. “Feel so good around me, Simon. I love how good you are, how well you take me.”
Simon’s brain short-circuits then, neurons misfiring. He gasps, pushing back against Wille’s short, hard strokes in a way that has both of them crying out.
“Simon,” Wille’s voice is incredibly tight. It sounds like he’s begging, fingers flexing against his hips, “no - don’t - I won’t last, baby - ”
But Simon fights against his grip, squirming back until Wilhelm’s cock is fully seated in him, pressing deep and perfect. He whines, “Fuck, Wille that’s so - ”
Abruptly, Wille pitches forward, burying his face in Simon’s neck as his rhythm goes erratic, fucking up into him once, twice, thrice before he comes, warm and slick inside him. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily, shaking, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby, shit - here - let me - ”
Wilhelm pulls Simon off him with trembling arms, shoving him back against the couch and yanking his legs open. He licks into Simon’s mouth for a long moment before ducking down to suck kisses across his throat and chest. He gets a hand around Simon’s cock, squeezing tight, Wilhelm’s intentions more than obvious as his soft hair tumbles over his face and brushes against Simon’s quivering stomach.
“Wait,” Simon tugs at his hair to get his attention, “wait, Wille - no, don’t.”
Wille stops, his gaze flickering up his torso to meet Simon’s own. There’s a touch of concern in his eyes. “No?”
Simon shakes his head, pulling Wilhelm back up and over him. To his credit, Wilhelm comes easily, balancing over him on one elbow and running a warm, soothing hand across his ribs. “What’s wrong?” he asks gently. “You okay?”
Simon swallows, a sudden wave of embarrassment crashing through him. He squirms, stomach clenching hotly at the way he can feel Wilhelm’s come leak down his thighs and nudges his cock against Wille’s hip. “Can you - can you stay like this?” He asks quietly, digging his fingers into Wille’s biceps and holding him in place. “And like - ”
When he trails off, Wilhelm noses at his cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Tell me, baby.”
Simon feels like his breath has been punched out of him. “Can you talk?” he begs, tucking his face into Wille’s shoulder. “Please.”
For a moment, the room is quiet. Simon feels dizzy in the silence, forcing all his attention to where Wilhelm’s eyelashes brush his skin as he blinks.
“Yeah, of course,” Wille whispers at last. His fingers tighten around Simon’s cock as he begins to stroke him. “You want me to tell you how pretty you are? How good you feel under me?”
The room’s temperature pitches up a full ten degrees as Simon goes hot around the collar. He nods wordlessly, face still hidden in Wilhelm’s warm shoulder. He’s dangerously close, the knot behind his spine tightening with every pretty word that Wilhelm utters.
“I love you so much,” Wille continues, voice nothing more than a low, sweet murmur in his ear. “You’re always so gorgeous, Simon. And so, so talented. Especially on my cock.”
Simon cries out sharply, his mouth dropping open around the shape of Wille’s name. Wilhelm is so good at this, he thinks faintly, it’s like he knows exactly what Simon wants, what he needs.
“Fuck,” Wille mumbles, panting as he crushes their mouths together, “you’re so fucking hot.” His grip tightens around Simon, now stripping him without any real rhythm or finesse. “I love how sensitive you are. You make the prettiest sounds when I’m fucking you, did you know?”
Simon tries to buck his hips to fuck up into Wille’s fist, but there’s nowhere for him to go. He shivers, trapped between the weight of Wilhelm’s body and the slick leather of the couch. “Oh my god,” he gasps, fisting his hands desperately into Wilhelm’s hair, “Wille, fuck, don’t stop - please don’t stop - I’m so fucking close - ”
“You’re always so good,” there’s genuine awe in Wilhelm’s voice and if Simon wasn’t half out of his mind, it would’ve had him preening, “my perfect, perfect boy.”
And somehow, that’s all it takes.
Simon’s orgasm is all but wrenched out of him. He feels hazy, floaty, strung out in his pleasure as he relishes the way Wilhelm is so obviously biting back knowing smile, working him through his pleasure with practiced ease.
“Good?” Wilhelm asks at last, lips brushing over Simon’s cheeks.
Simon tries to catch his breath, suddenly a tad self conscious. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”
Wilhelm snorts, rolling over to wipe his hand on his discarded t-shirt. He settles back against him when he’s done, wedged awkwardly between the back of the couch and Simon’s body. “That’s not what you were saying a minute ago.”
Simon tosses an arm across his eyes, groaning. “Fuck off, Wille.”
But Wilhelm only laughs in response, the sound sweet and affectionate. He moves to sit up. “Let me get us something to clean up with.”
“No,” Simon whines, reaching out to grip his wrist, “Don’t go yet. Stay close for a minute.”
Wilhelm leans over to kiss him softly. “Yeah, okay.”
Simon hums contentedly, nuzzling their noses together. Sleep is knocking at his eyelids, a lazy afternoon nap calling his name. “Love you,” he mumbles, too vulnerable to be entirely light hearted.
“Love you too,” comes the immediate response. Then, after a beat of silence, “Was that - I said the right things, right?”
Simon let’s out a soft breath of laughter. “Yeah,” he smiles, “you did, don’t worry.”
“I noticed,” Wilhelm tells him then, “before, I mean - I had a feeling you’d like it.”
“I barely noticed it myself.”
Wille’s voice goes soft and hushed, sweet in the way it only ever is for Simon. “Yeah, well, I know you, Simon.”
A knot of burning emotion rises up Simon’s throat. “You do,” he agrees quietly, savoring Wilhelm’s answering smile, the way it feels like the sun breaking out in the eye of a snowstorm, “you always have.”