Chapter Text
Wille isn’t sure he knows how to breathe. It’s like all air has been sucked from his lungs, leaving him gasping. “I don’t understand,” he rasps, staring up at Simon. There’s still tears in Simon’s eyes, slowly spilling over his lash line. Wille reaches up, instinctively wiping his thumb over Simon’s cheeks. Simon starts, and Wille stiffens, thinking he’s about to pull away, but he doesn’t.
“I -” Simon tries to speak, but something seems to be stuck in his throat. He coughs, sniffs loudly, and tries again. “What else is there to say? I love you,” he whispers. “More than you’ve ever realised.”
“But - but you - you never said,” Wille says desperately. He doesn’t understand.
Simon sighs sadly. “I shoved it away. Ignored it. Didn’t want to be that guy in love with his best friend. But everytime I - I held your hand or - or hugged you, or you held me in some way, all the time we’ve been pretending, it - I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I tried to tell you so many times.”
Wille screws his eyes shut again, shaking his head. He drops his hand from Simon’s face. “I - when? When did you -”
“Ever since new years, every time I’ve told you that I love you, that - that was me telling you. But because it’s us, we always said that anyway. So - so I just got to tell you all the time, and you had no idea.”
Wille’s lips part as he realises that Simon is telling the truth. That earnest I love you from Simon on new years, just before Wille had put him to bed, had been…different. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, putting it down to Simon being drunk, and yet…
“It started feeling different after your staff Christmas party,” Simon mumbles. His hand is still on Wille’s cheek, his thumb moving back and forward slowly.
Wille sits upright as he remembers something. “You - you said something that night, didn’t you?” he croaks. “You thought I was asleep. But I heard you.”
Simon gives a wry smile. “I said that I wasn’t sure it was fake anymore. How I felt about you. And then - then we kissed on new years. I couldn’t ignore it after that. And then when you - you avoided me afterwards, I was so scared that you’d figured me out and - and that it was all ruined. But you came back, and - and I thought, maybe, you liked it. That you wanted…more.” Simon’s voice trails away, his eyes fixed on Wille’s.
Wille’s stomach swoops.
“I did,” he breathes, holding Simon’s gaze, heat pooling in his cheeks. “I…do.”
Simon takes a shaky breath in, a small gasp.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to realise,” Wille says quietly, a feeling of shame creeping through him, twisting in his chest.
Simon smiles softly. “I’d kind of resigned myself to you not feeling the same way. All through school, I got used to you not realising how I felt. So I just did my best to find someone else. But, yeah, neither one of us have had much luck on the dating front.” Simon gives a slight chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as he continues, “Being in love with my best friend kind of held me back, I suppose.”
Wille can’t help but give a quiet laugh. In the back of his mind, he wonders if the reason he has had such difficulty in finding a partner is because he was also fighting some kind of flame for Simon. Despite the fact that Wille feels thoroughly caught off guard, his emotions reeling, he manages to conjure up a smirk.
“And so, what? You made this fake relationship plan to get with me?” he teases. Simon gives a huff, pulling his hand back. Wille pouts slightly at the loss of his gentle touch. Simon doesn’t move away though, he stays close to Wille, standing almost between his legs as Wille sits on the edge of the bed.
“It’s not like that,” Simon protests. Even in the dim orange lighting of the bedroom, Wille can see Simon’s cheeks flushing red.
“Hm?” Wille hums, still smirking up at him. “Then what was it? Just convenient, yeah?”
“Well, I did need to get Marcus off my case. And - and you were the most obvious option. I just didn’t expect it to be so…hard.”
Wille tilts his head to one side. “Hard?”
“I thought I’d moved on,” Simon sighs. “But, no, apparently I hadn’t. And from that very first fake date, I -” Simon sighs, before continuing. “It was hard, because I was just trying to ignore how all the feelings I had around you were appearing again, and by the time I realised that I - I was still in love with you, it was too late to back out of the fake relationship. And…” Simon’s voice trails away sheepishly, staring at the ground. Wille leans forward slightly, seeking his gaze.
“And?” he pushes gently.
“And - and maybe I hoped that - that you would…”
“Fall for you, too?” Wille finishes, cheeks blazing. Simon just nods, chewing on his lower lip.
“Well,” Wille coughs, sitting up again. His chest, previously hollow and aching with misery, now feels full, warm and light. He feels hope. “I did.”
“Somehow,” Simon mumbles.
Wille gives a quiet laugh. His hands shake slightly as he reaches out, taking hold of Simon’s waist, bunching his grip into the hem of his purple hoodie. “Mm,” Wille hums vacantly, doing his best to hold Simon’s gaze. “How could I fall for someone like you? You’re a pain in my ass.”
Wille can feel the heat from Simon’s body as he hears him take in a sharp breath, leaning towards Wille ever so slightly.
“I could be a pain in your ass. But, like, a pleasurable pain,” Simon says, voice high pitched.
Wille snorts, though he can’t ignore the warmth pooling below his stomach. “That was super smooth, Simon.”
“Sorry,” Simon mumbles, avoiding Wille’s gaze again, but Wille shakes his head, raising a hand to Simon’s face to turn him back.
“I can’t lie,” Wille says, his voice low, cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and something a little bit unhinged. “It’s not like I haven’t - haven’t thought about…yeah…”
“About what?” Simon asks innocently. His voice fills the room, even though he’s speaking quietly, somehow enveloping Wille in a sense of comfort.
Wille clears his throat nervously, looking into Simon’s face. He knows that Simon knows what he’s referring to, but, sure, if he wanted to play that game.
“I think of you,” Wille says, his voice shaking. Simon stays quiet, but a hand trails slowly up one of Wille’s arms, to his shoulder, before settling at his neck. One of Simon’s fingers moves slowly back and forth at the skin of Wille's throat. Silent and waiting.
Wille takes a deep breath, throwing caution to the winds. They were already being embarrassingly honest with each other, so he may as well just throw any sense of dignity and self preservation out the window. It was all or nothing.
“I think of you,” he repeats. “And I dream of you. But I - I never realised that it was actually…you.”
“What happens in those dreams?” Simon asks, his voice a raw sounding rasp.
Wille’s resolve falters slightly. “Um…stuff,” he mumbles.
“What stuff?”
In any other circ*mstance, Wille would have simply curled up in a ball of embarrassment and said nothing more. He would have bluffed his way out of the situation, turned on all the lights in the room to ruin whatever mood had been attempted to have been set. He would have shrunk away, not wanting to expose the intricacies of his heart, his wants and needs, how he craves the touch of a very specific person, how he so desperately wants to show that same person just how much he loves them. Him. Simon. Show Simon just how much he loves him.
Wille takes a slow breath in. He feels safe. He’s holding his heart in his hands, something fragile and easily shattered, but he knows that Simon has hold of it too; Simon is there, supporting him as he tries to delve into the interwoven threads of how he feels. How he has maybe always felt.
“You - you would touch my skin. Over my collarbone. And my chest. And then you’d kiss me there too, my collarbone. And my lips. And - and move over my body.” Wille feels his cheeks burning, and his voice shakes slightly.
“That sounds nice,” Simon murmurs. His hand slides up Wille’s neck, cupping his jaw.
“Yeah,” Wille says, slightly breathless as Simon’s fingers trail over his cheek. “It does.”
Wille’s head spins as Simon’s thumb drags gently across his bottom lip. He stares up at Simon, seeing his eyes, dark, pupils blown out, staring back at him. There’s something burning in Simon’s gaze, but there is also softness as he looks over Wille’s face.
“I love you,” Wille whispers. Because he can. He’s said it a million times before, but now it’s different, it means so much more than he could have ever expected.
Simon smiles. A smile so warm and delicate that Wille feels like he might explode. Or cry. Or both.
“I love you,” Simon says in return. Both his hands cup Wille’s face, tilting his head up. “Please, can I kiss you?”
Wille’s body flashes cold and then scorching hot in an instant. He doesn’t say anything, he just tugs at Simon’s waist, pulling the two of them together. Simon collides with the side of the bed, and drops onto Wille’s lap with a small squeak. He adjusts himself slightly, so he’s resting his knees on the mattress on either side of Wille’s hips, sitting on Wille’s thighs. He winds his arms around Wille’s neck, and leans their foreheads together, squeezing his eyes shut. He seems to be taking deep, slow breaths, as though trying to calm himself.
Wille feels slightly worried, scared that he may have been too forward in his slight manhandling of Simon. He wants him, desires him, more than anything, but he doesn’t want to do anything that Simon doesn’t want. Their bodies are so close, chest to chest, Wille’s hands settled at Simon’s waist. He wants to pull him even closer, press their bodies flush together, nothing separating them. But he pauses.
“Okay?” he whispers, looking carefully into Simon’s face as he opens his eyes.
Simon nods rapidly, bringing his hands to cup Wille’s jaw again. His touch is like electricity, firing through Wille with a crackling intensity.
“I'm okay,” Simon breathes. “You didn't answer my question, though.”
Wille lets out a puff of a laugh through his nose, rolling his eyes. “I would've thought the answer was obvious.”
Simon shifts slightly, rolling the two of them ever closer together, and his breath brushes over Wille’s cheeks. “Just thought I'd double check,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Well, the answer's definitely yes,” Wille murmurs. Every fibre in his body is screaming, begging for Simon’s touch, his contact.
“Good,” Simon mumbles.
Wille feels like his neck is tilted back at a ridiculous angle, disproportionate to Simon’s height. He's sitting only slightly higher than him, but Wille is virtually craning his neck to reach him, blindly leaning towards him, desperate to find his lips.
And finally, he does.
Simon’s lips meet Wille’s, and Wille’s chest feels like it could explode with the golden symphony of warmth that blooms within him. He’s riding a high, winding his arms around Simon’s middle so that they are completely pressed together, gripping at Simon’s hoodie. Simon’s hands almost clutch at Wille’s face, desperately pulling at him as they kiss and kiss and kiss, fingertips trailing into Wille’s hair. It’s an intense, yearning feeling that courses through Wille, as well as a fire that catches within him, burning, burning, burning. After what feels like minutes, Wille pulls back a fraction, panting slightly, opening his eyes to Simon’s face, cheeks flushed, eyes wild.
“Not pretend this time?” Wille asks, managing a smirk.
Simon rolls his eyes. “No,” he says quietly. “Not pretend.” Simon’s hands slide from Wille’s cheeks, down his neck, over his chest, then settle at the hem of Wille’s jumper. He can feel Simon fiddling with it, slightly nervously.
“Can I take this off?” Simon asks, eyes darting over Wille’s face.
Wille just nods, raising his arms above his head, letting Simon tug off his jumper. It’s not even a bad thing that Wille’s undershirt gets caught and is pulled off as well, leaving him shirtless, hair fluffed up from the clothes being dragged over his head. Simon’s gaze drops from Wille’s face to his chest, leaning back slightly, and he trails his fingertips slowly over Wille’s collarbone. Wille shudders at his touch, breath catching, and does his best to keep himself grounded, focussing on the intense expression on Simon’s face as he traces over Wille’s torso with both his eyes and his touch.
“You - you said that I would kiss your collarbone? In your dreams?” Simon whispers.
Oh.
“Yeah,” Wille rasps, not entirely sure how he’s still breathing.
“Like this?” murmurs Simon, and he drops his head, and presses a kiss to Wille’s right collarbone, then his left. The air leaves Wille’s lungs as he tilts his head back, letting Simon have better access.
“Mmhm,” Wille hums assent, eyes fluttering, swallowing hard. He moves his hands from Simon’s waist, sliding over his thighs, the friction of Simon’s jeans rough on his palms.
“Okay,” whispers Simon, as he carves kisses along Wille’s collarbone, his hand bracing Wille’s neck, thumb pushing his chin towards the ceiling. Wille’s head spins as he feels Simon’s tongue, hot and wet, slide up his neck, before Simon’s lips collide with his again.
“Simon,” is all Wille can get out, in the brief moments that their lips separate, and Simon simply rocks his hips into him in response, making Wille gasp lightly. Heat pools below his stomach, seeping into his limbs. He seeks friction, pushing up against Simon, feeling a very particular sensation press against his lower belly.
Wille gives a soft laugh. “You’re hard,” he says simply. He can feel the heat radiate from Simon as he blushes.
“Like you’re -” Simon starts, as he pushes directly into Wille, making him give a feeble gasp, then plants both hands on Wille’s shoulders and shoves him back, making him lie back on the bed, “- any better,” he finishes, jostling Wille further onto the bed, then crawling over him, hands either side of Wille’s head as he grins down at him. Simon’s curls fall forward, brushing over Wille’s face. Wille giggles, spluttering dramatically as he tries to get hair out of his eyes, before he gives a surprised yelp as Simon runs his hand over the fly of his pants, brushing dangerously close to Wille’s undoing.
“See?” Simon says, pointedly dragging a single finger painfully slowly against the zipper. There’s barely any pressure, but Wille is already aching to be touched, and he’s only slightly embarrassed that his hips instinctively twitch towards Simon’s contact. Simon gives a sly smirk, before Wille simply grabs at his face with both hands, pulling him down and kissing him. Wille winds his fingers into Simon’s curls, the strands soft against his skin. Simon’s hands roam over Wille, his chest, over his arms, touching, caressing, as though he’s handling something fragile and delicate.
Wille lets his hands slide down Simon’s body, to his hips, before he slips his hands under the hem of Simon’s hoodie, already slightly bunched up around his stomach. Simon gasps quietly into Wille’s mouth, and Wille only continues his exploration of Simon’s skin, warm and supple, feeling the muscles stuttering beneath his hands. Wille, annoyed by the restriction of the fabric, tugs at the hoodie.
“Off,” he says, then quickly adds, “If that’s okay.”
Simon gives a soft laugh against Wille’s lips, then sits up. He’s straddling Wille’s waist, and he pulls his hoodie and t-shirt off, tossing them somewhere out of sight.
Wille stares. Shamelessly. Because he can now. “f*ck,” he breathes. Simon’s hair is a little messy, the occasional curl bent at an odd angle, caught in another spiral of hair, and his cheeks are flushed almost maroon, lips a little swollen. His chest rises and falls with his slightly rapid breathing, his necklace, the one Wille had bought for him, catching the light in a sporadic pattern,, and Wille lets his eyes move lower, following the line at the centre of Simon’s chest, down to his stomach, his belly button, the dip of his hips as he sits over Wille’s waist. His skin glows a soft caramel brown in the orange light of the bedside lamp that barely illuminates the room, but it’s enough for Wille to see the obvious.
Simon has always been beautiful. He has always been beautiful.
“You -” Wille starts, before his voice catches, and there’s an embarrassing lump in the back of his throat, and his eyes start burning. Oh god. He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, willing himself not to cry.
“Wille?” Simon’s voice is worried. “Are you okay? We can stop, I'm sorry, I just -”
Wille shakes his head, but is still unable to form anything coherent. He feels Simon sliding off him, and the mattress dips near his head. Dropping his hands from his eyes and turning his head, he sees Simon lying next to him, propped up on his elbow, looking concerned.
“I'm not gonna force you into something you don't want to do,” Simon says quickly, chewing on his lower lip.
Wille shakes his head again. “That's not it,” he mumbles, rolling onto his side to be parallel with Simon. Tears are still burning in his eyes, and he feels a couple escape over his cheeks, trailing little paths across his face.
“No?” Simon murmurs, brow furrowed.
“No,” Wille says hoarsely. He reaches out, touching Simon’s cheek with the tips of his fingers, the skin soft, barely a scar or blemish. Wille has always envied Simon’s skin; he himself had battled with acne for years, trying a multitude of skin care regimes and treatments, before he eventually settled on a medication from his doctor, and battled any breakouts with an acidic medicated ointment. Simon, on the other hand, had only ever had the smallest, occasional pimple, and barely had anything that could be considered a skincare routine. But despite that, Simon had the softest, clearest skin, and Wille gently traces over it with his fingers, following the shape of his cheekbones, up to his brow bones, then down his nose, over his lips.
“Then what is it?” Simon pushes gently. He catches a couple of Wille’s tears with his thumb, wiping them away.
“You - you're just -” Wille's voice catches again, and he clears his throat, pushing past the barricade of some repressed fear that's holding him back.
“You're beautiful,” Wille finally says aloud. Simon’s gaze softens, and his lips tug into a slightly flustered smile.
“And you always have been,” Wille goes on, the lump still pressing at his throat. “I just - I - I'm so in love with you that I feel like I'm gonna f*cking explode.”
“Wille,” Simon murmurs gently, brushing a stray strand of hair off Wille’s forehead.
“You've always been there, Simon,” Wille pushes on, unable to stop himself. “Every moment of my life since I was barely 15, you've been there. And you've always been on my side, you've always helped me, supported me, and - and you - you made me a better person. I always look for you, wherever I am, even when I'm not expecting to see you. I see something random and I'm like oh, Simon would like this, and you're always in my head, one way or another, and - and -”
“Wille,” Simon repeats, and he gently presses his lips to Wille’s, silencing him with a kiss. Wille lets out a muffled sound of surprise, but grabs at Simon nonetheless - words sometimes fail Wille, despite the sheer amount of literature he's consumed, but he knows he can also speak through his actions. One would assume that he could quote poetry and prose at his whim, and, normally, he can. But as he is faced with the reality of just how much he cares for and loves Simon, suddenly everything leaves his mind, and all he can think is Simon Simon Simon.
“I love you,” Simon whispers, barely pulling away from Wille’s lips. Wille feels like he's missed a step going downstairs; it's far from the first time he's heard Simon say those words, but he knows how different its meaning is now, just like how it's different when he says it.
“I love you,” Wille murmurs, and he rolls the two of them over, so he’s leaning over Simon, grabbing at his waist to pull them together. The feeling of skin on skin sends a buzzing vibration through Wille, drawing a slightly unhinged sound from the back of his throat.
“So -” Simon says, between kisses, “You - you’d be okay to - to keep - going?”
Wille’s hips twitch subconsciously, and he nods rapidly, looking down at Simon. Simon’s hair is fanned out around his head, curls spiralling and twisting in their own unique patterns; it’s almost like an intricate halo, shining from Simon’s angelic beauty. Wille kisses him again, because he can, and it feels like he’ll never be able to do it enough.
“I - I don’t - have -” Simon almost pants as Wille pulls away from his lips, dragging kisses across his jaw and down to the soft skin at his neck.
sh*t. Of course they’d need supplies. Wille can’t expect to just f*ck or be f*cked without so much as a condom. Or lube. Wille feels himself clench slightly at the thought of doing anything without lube. And sure, he’s clean, and he’s sure Simon is too, but you never know.
And then he remembers.
“I - I have some stuff,” he mumbles, slightly sheepishly, sitting up a little.
Simon smirks, still lying back on the bed, wiggling his eyebrows at him. “Oh you do, do you?” he says.
“Not like that,” groans Wille, clambering off the bed and fumbling around for his bag. “I just - it’s always in there. Just in case.”
“So you didn’t pack lube and condoms in the hope that we’d f*ck this weekend?”
Wille almost chokes at Simon’s brazen words, but manages a loud “ No! ” in protest. “I just have a little bottle of lube and some condoms in my toilet bag just in case. They’re always there. I think I put them in there last year when I went to stay overnight with - uh - someone.”
Wille trails off sheepishly. Another memory of a failed date-come-almost-relationship. He’d been seeing the guy for a few weeks, and one thing had led to another, and Wille had been invited to spend the night. Nothing had happened; the guy had actually ended up falling asleep on the couch not long after Wille had arrived, so he’d left without saying anything.
“Wille,” Simon says softly. “I’m just teasing.”
“Oh -”
“Egg.”
“Shut up,” Wille groans, finally locating what he was looking for and tossing the supplies in Simon’s general direction.
“Make me, why don’t you,” Simon says slyly, smirking shamelessly over at Wille.
Taking the invitation with no hesitation, Wille immediately crawls back onto the bed, hovering over Simon, and slams their lips together once more. Simon giggles, winding his arms around Wille and pulling them flush together. Wille lets himself drown in the feeling of Simon’s lips on his, tongues moving against each other, letting his hands gently roam over Simon’s body, touching and learning different parts of him. It’s probably minutes of slow movements and quiet gasps into the other’s mouth, before Simon’s hand slides below Wille’s waist and cups his ass, squeezing slightly. Wille can’t even muster much of a response before Simon pushes at him, and he’s rolled onto his back once more, Simon immediately clambering on top of him, settling over his thighs.
“Is this okay?” Simon asks, voice hoarse, as his hands trail over Wille’s lower stomach, coming to rest at the waistband of his pants.
“Absolutely,” Wille almost groans, reaching out to touch Simon in any way he can, managing to get a slightly awkward grip on his knees.
“Can I -” Simon breaks off, seeming to swallow hard, before he continues, “Can I undo this?” he whispers. One of his hands trails lightly over the fly of Wille’s pants, his knuckles grazing over the aching hardness beneath the fabric.
Wille can only manage a slightly squeaky hum of assent, nodding frantically.
“Words, Wille, please,” Simon says, his voice soft but firm.
Wille has to cough to be able to speak, but he gets out a discernible “Yes.”
Simon gives a small nod, and undoes the button at the meeting of Wille’s pants, then drags the zip down painfully slowly. Wille’s sure that Simon deliberately brushes his knuckles over him again as he moves, and he gives the smallest of moans at his touch.
Wille watches as Simon simply stares down at him, watching as his eyes move over his chest, zig-zagging side to side, up and down, before his gaze wanders lower and lower, until he’s looking at his hands, where they sit either side of the parting of Wille’s pants, folding the fabric out of the way. Of course, Wille knows that Simon isn’t actually staring at his hands; he can almost feel the ache of Simon’s gaze on his dick, still hidden beneath the fabric of his boxers, that he feels a little insane for a few moments. How can just a look from Simon evoke a kind of visceral reaction within him?
Before he can try to comprehend anything further, Simon is crawling up Wille’s body again, kissing him, hard, into the mattress, the charm of his necklace, warm from his skin, dropping onto Wille’s chest. Wille immediately moves his hands to Simon’s hair, wrapping curls around his fingers, and lets a gasp slip between his lips as Simon’s hand moves over Wille’s boxers, placing deliberate pressure against his dick.
“sh*t,” is all Wille can muster, his voice muffled against Simon’s mouth.
“Okay?” Simon whispers, sounding a little worried.
“More than okay,” Wille chokes out as Simon pulls back a fraction, before he smirks at Wille’s response, and grinds their hips together. The feeling is almost enough to send Wille reeling, the friction of fabric against fabric over skin making him almost moan.
“In your dreams -” Simon murmurs, staring down at Wille, eyes dark and turbulent, “- you said I would - would kiss your collarbone, yeah? And then move over your body?”
Wille can’t help the borderline pathetic whine that escapes his lips as he nods. Simon is literally making his dreams come true. Simon is literally making his dreams come true.
“I see,” Simon says, almost thoughtfully, and he drags kisses down Wille’s neck, before he grinds his teeth against his right collarbone and sucks hard, making Wille gasp. Simon gently kisses the slightly stinging patch of skin, soothing it, and begins a path down the centre of Wille’s chest, his hands bracketing the sides of his ribs. Wille’s breaths come in stuttering gasps as the feeling of Simon’s lips against his bare skin sends spirals through his vision, staring determinedly at the ceiling as he fights to keep himself steady.
“What if I said -” Simon whispers, making Wille shiver as Simon’s breath dances over his stomach, “- that I’ve had dreams too.”
“Oh?” Wille chokes. Simon is moving further and further down his chest, torso, stomach, until he feels him brush along the waistband of his boxers, Simon’s delicate fingers flicking under the elastic briefly.
“Mm,” Simon hums. He glances up at Wille, a silent question in his eyes as his hands still over Wille’s waist. Wille gives a small nod, lifting his hips slightly, meaning Simon can easily pull his pants and boxers down over his hips. Usually, Wille hates this part; the undressing, the awkward moments of worrying if something smells weird or if it’s been too long since he shaved, the fear of some subtle judgement as he exposes the most intimate parts of himself to someone who is supposed to care for him.
But, for the first time, Wille doesn’t worry. He doesn’t care. He keeps his eyes on Simon, the first and only person he’s sure he’s ever been in love with, and been loved by in return. Any insecurities or fears he may have had, aren’t triggered. His entire body is relaxed, reacting intuitively to Simon’s touch and movements. He trusts Simon with everything he has, and he knows that he’s safe. His body seems to buzz at some unearthly frequency, tingling in anticipation and want and need and desire. He wants Simon, god, he wants Simon.
And he has him.
Simon is right there, settled between Wille’s legs on his stomach, staring up at him with dark eyes that burn straight through to Wille’s core. It’s an intoxicating stare, and Wille wants to simply drag Simon up again and kiss him until neither of them can breathe anymore. But Simon’s fingers are trailing slowly down Wille’s length, gradually applying more pressure, before his fingers wrap around Wille’s dick, stroking slowly up and down. Wille claps a hand to his mouth, muffling the sound that escapes him, dropping his head back to the mattress. The sensation of Simon finally touching him is almost enough to make Wille lose his mind right then and there, but he wills himself to keep grounded, stay in the moment, letting the sensations flicker through his body.
“What - what happens in - in your dreams?” Wille gasps out, staring fixedly at the ceiling, his breathing slightly staggered.
Simon gives a contemplative hum, one of his fingers sliding over the tip of Wille’s dick, collecting the little amount of precum that was gradually leaking from his slit. The feeling makes Wille suck in a high pitched gasp, chest flexing inwards. Simon’s hand pulls away, and Wille raises his head, slightly confused, and promptly feels his eyes widen as he sees Simon licking the precum off his finger, his eyes fixed on Wille as he does so.
“Jesus,” Wille hisses, oddly transfixed by the sight.
“Well,” murmurs Simon, returning to slowly stroking Wille’s length. Wille’s strength falters again, and he drops his head, mouth slack at the feeling of Simon’s hand on him.
“I would kiss you -” Simon goes on. Wille feels him shift slightly, but his hand remains wrapped around him, moving at an agonisingly slow pace.
“- like I was before. And then kiss down your chest. Sometimes I would -” Simon pauses for a moment, then Wille jumps as the fingertips of Simon’s other hand brushes over one of his nipples, nerves firing through his chest.
“- do this.”
Wille lets slip a quiet moan as Simon rolls his nipple between his fingers, wet from obviously having licked them before touching him. His sensitivity peaks, the sensation dragging somewhere behind his belly button, and just when it becomes almost too much, Simon lets go, his palm sliding down his stomach, back to his waist.
“And I - I would suck you off. Make you feel good.” Simon’s voice is quiet, almost shy sounding, as though he’s pushing past his own nerves.
Wille lets slip a whimper, hands bunching into the blanket beneath him, shaking slightly in expectation, eyes still on the ceiling. He's never been strung so taut, heat coiling in his stomach that spirals out through his body, to the very tips of his fingers. Everything within him is crying, screaming out for Simon, for his touch, his lips, the weight of his body, the feeling of his waist as Wille grips his hands around his hips.
“Can I -” Simon starts, and Wille raises his head again, knowing what he’s asking.
“Yes,” he says quickly, before Simon can finish his question. “Please.”
Simon reaches out sideways, scrabbling for a pillow at the head of the bed, then virtually chucks it at Wille.
“I want to see your face.”
Wille's breath is sucked from his lungs again, and he tries his best to be smooth, calm and collected as he props himself up slightly, shoving the pillow beneath his head. Doing that means that Wille no longer needs to raise his head to see Simon; he can simply angle his head slightly, and he can clearly see Simon staring back at him, eyes burning through a low light of the room.
Wille moans aloud when Simon’s lips close over him. He can feel Simon’s hair brushing across the top and inside of his thighs as Simon, with startling ease, takes most of Wille’s length in one go, his fingers wrapping around what he cannot take with his mouth. Wille lets out a series of gasping moans as Simon draws back, his tongue swirling expertly.
Simon pulls off briefly, keeping his slender fingers wrapped around Wille’s dick, sliding slowly up and down, lubricated by the mess of his spit. He looks up at Wille, their eyes meeting, no words exchanged. Nothing needs to be said, not really. Wille is prepared to give himself entirely over to Simon, let him do whatever he wishes, but he also wants to show Simon everything that Wille has been too stupid to realise.
Before Wille can collect his thoughts, Simon's mouth is on him again, and all Wille can feel is the hot, wet feeling of Simon’s tongue, the tightness of his throat, as Simon takes him in, in, in. Wille feels himself hit the back of Simon’s throat, and he gives a gasp, halfway between pleasure and surprise, hands flying to Simon’s curls to guide him back, not wanting him to hurt himself. But as Simon pulls off slightly, he looks up at Wille, and Wille knows he's done for. Simon can take it. Simon wants it.
“sh*t, Simon -” Wille stutters, leaving his hands twisted in Simon’s hair, but not pulling him back this time, but instead dragging his fingers through his curls, bunching it at the back of Simon’s head, keeping it off his face. Simon slides his tongue up the underside of Wille’s dick, his eyes fixed on Wille once more, before he takes him in his mouth again. Wille casts his eyes to the ceiling briefly, trying to ground himself as pleasure coils out from his core, dripping like molten lava through his body, before he looks down at Simon again, watching as he sucks and strokes and licks, his mouth hot on Wille. Wille can feel Simon’s breath tickling his skin as he takes and takes him deeper, raising himself up slightly, bettering the angle to swallow Wille down, breathing surprisingly steady through his nose, not frantic or staggered like Wille’s, who feels pressure building within him as Simon continues on and on and on and -
“sh*t, f*ck, Simon - I’m gonna -”
Wille sits up abruptly, maybe being a little rough in his handling of Simon’s hair to pull him off. Simon gives a giggle as he lets Wille guide him slightly upright, until they’re looking each other in the face.
“Good?” Simon asks innocently.
Wille rolls his eyes, and cups Simon’s face. “Do you even need to ask?” Wille huffs, even as he drags his eyes hungrily over Simon, taking in his wild eyes, a couple of tear tracks over his cheeks, and slightly swollen lips, shining with spit.
“You said you were gonna make me feel good, not make me cum ,” Wille goes on, brushing a stray curl off Simon’s forehead and wiping the wet off his face with his thumb.
Simon grins, shrugging nonchalantly. “Well, you didn’t cum, so…” he smirks.
Wille grumbles incoherently, and drags Simon into a kiss, not thinking twice about where Simon’s mouth had been. Simon pushes at him, making him lie back, not breaking the kiss, settling over his waist again, hands running up Wille’s neck to his hair. The kiss is messy, all tongue and wet lips, gasping breaths and lopsided meetings, but it’s real .
It’s not fake, it’s not pretend. It’s real and Simon is right there, his body pressed against Wille, holding onto him in any way he can. It’s more than Wille could have ever imagined. His chest floods with a delicious warmth as he winds his arms around Simon’s waist, rolling the two of them over again, earning him a soft gasp from Simon, the parting of his lips allowing Wille to shamelessly push his tongue against Simon’s, hungry for the taste of him, for everything Simon holds.
“Wille,” Simon almost moans out, the word buzzing against Wille’s lips.
“Hm?” Wille hums, smirking, squinting at Simon through half closed eyes.
“I want - I - I want -” Simon’s words are broken, and he seems unable to form much of a coherent sentence.
Wille gives another inquisitive hum, pulling away from Simon’s lips, instead pressing kisses to the soft skin of his neck, down to his chest. Simon’s skin is warm, stuttering beneath Wille’s mouth, muscles twitching erratically. As Wille loops his tongue over one of Simon’s nipples, Simon gives a soft moan, and Wille feels him arching upwards, pressing himself against Wille.
“You,” Simon finally gets out, hands scrabbling to grip onto Wille’s. “I want - you - I want you.”
Wille’s head spins, and he desperately grips Simon’s hands in return, trying to ground himself. His entire body seems to breathe out a sigh of relief, of fears abated and wishes granted. Simon’s words somehow embolden him, even if he’s already crossed over the threshold of worries that usually nag at the back of his mind in situations like these.
“How do you want me?” Wille asks. His voice comes out low, and remarkably calm, despite how much Wille feels like he is shaking. He moves over Simon again, parallel with him, staring down at him as Simon’s hungry gaze flickers back at him.
“I - in. I want - I want you to f*ck me. I want to feel you inside me.”
Wille’s eyes almost roll to the back of his head as he gives a moan, dropping down to kiss Simon into the mattress, desperately pressing the two of them together for the millionth time. As their legs wind together, he realises that Simon somehow still has his pants on, and decides he simply must correct that fact as soon as possible.
Simon gives a pitiful whine when Wille pulls away from him and sits up slightly, dragging a hand down Simon’s chest.
“Can’t f*ck you if you have pants on, Simon,” Wille says, tugging at the waistband of Simon’s jeans. He doesn’t know how his voice sounds so steady, because he feels anything but steady.
“Oh -” Simon’s hands fly to the fastening of his pants, fingers shaking as he tries to undo the button.
Wille gives a little laugh, gently tugging Simon’s hands away as he settles on his knees over Simon’s legs. “Let me,” he says quietly. Simon nods quickly, eyes glued to Wille like he’s never seen him before, like he never wants to look away. Wille clenches his hands briefly, willing his fingers to stop shaking; there’s so much energy burning within him, with virtually nowhere to go, that Wille feels like he might simply fracture into another plane of existence. As he relaxes his hands, he breathes out slowly, and fumbles ever so slightly as he undoes Simon’s jeans.
“Wille -” Simon’s fingers grip Wille’s right wrist as he hooks his fingers under the elastic of Simon’s boxers, and Wille freezes, looking to him with concern.
“I -” Simon’s voice falters again, and he looks almost desperate.
“I can stop,” Wille says calmly, raising his hands off Simon’s lower stomach, but Simon shakes his head frantically, tugging Wille’s hands back.
“Don’t. Don’t stop,” Simon whispers hoarsely. “I just - I - f*cks sake, why can’t I speak?” Simon gives a sheepish giggle, burying his face in his hands, shaking his head.
“It’s okay,” Wille says gently. He returns to slowly running his fingertips under the waistband of Simon’s boxers. “Just take a breath.”
Simon does, slowly letting his breath out through his pursed lips, eyes on the ceiling. After a few seconds, he speaks again. “It’s just - I - I’ve thought about this, doing this, being with you, so much, like - you have no idea. I just - I can’t believe this is actually real.” As though to confirm to himself that the situation is real, Simon grips onto Wille’s hands again. “It’s just a lot, I guess,” he whispers.
Wille takes a steadying breath, looking down at Simon. “That’s okay,” he says quietly. “If it’s too much, we don’t have -”
“No!” Simon almost yelps, before his cheeks burn maroon, and he covers his face again, clearly embarrassed. Even Wille has to chuckle a little at his enthusiasm, but he tugs Simon’s hands off his face, trying to give him a reassuring smile.
“I want this,” Simon mumbles, staring at a point over Wille’s shoulder. “I want you.”
“Okay,” Wille says slowly, trailing his fingertips over Simon’s torso, down to his waist again, watching as Simon’s muscles twitch beneath his touch. “Tell me what you want from me. I don’t want to do anything wrong, or - or be too much, or something.”
Simon’s eyes darken as he looks at Wille, and his expression relaxes ever so slightly as he gives a small nod.
“You want me to - to f*ck you?” Wille says, trying to ignore how the phrase sounds like something out of a low budget p*rn movie. Simon nods again, lips parting in a silent moan.
“Do you, uh, do I need to -”
“Shove your fingers in my ass, Wille, Jesus Christ,” Simon blurts out, then clamps his lips together, eyes wide. Wille bites his lip in an attempt to maintain face, but he lets slip a small snort of laughter. At the sound of Wille’s amusem*nt, Simon breaks too, and he dissolves into his musical sounding giggles.
“This is going so well,” he groans, even as he keeps giggling, covering his face with his hands once more.
Wille just laughs, moving off Simon’s legs and resting on his side next to him, cupping at Simon’s face to get him to look at him. After a few moments, he does, looking at Wille slightly sheepishly.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, unable to look Wille wholly in the eye.
“So you don’t want me to shove my fingers in your ass?” Wille teases. He’s already running his hand down Simon’s chest, deviating to brush the back of his hand over Simon’s nipples, before returning to the centreline.
Simon gives an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes. “Of course I - oh f*ck -”
Simon breaks off as Wille, keeping his eyes on Simon’s face, slides his hand into his boxers and wraps his fingers around Simon’s dick. It’s hard, hot and weighty in Wille’s palm, sticky precum half dried on Simon’s skin. Simon’s jaw goes slack and his eyes flicker as Wille slowly strokes his length, his breaths coming in shaky puffs.
“So you do want me to f*ck you with my fingers then?” Wille asks, his voice low again, running the pad of his finger over Simon’s slit, making him shudder.
Simon lets out a high pitched hum of assent, nodding rapidly. He fumbles with his pants and boxers, eventually pulling them off. Wille keeps his hand on him, slowly dragging quiet moans from him. Simon grabs at Wille’s face, tugging him closer and slamming their lips together. Wille leans over him slightly, keeping the steady pace of stroking Simon, and takes as many gasps and moans from him as he can, the sounds buzzing against Wille’s lips.
“Wille -” Simon moans, rutting into Wille’s fist. “Please, please.”
Wille doesn't need to ask what Simon means. He keeps their lips together, tongue exploring Simon’s mouth, but he lets go of Simon’s length, running his hand blindly over the bedcover before he eventually finds what he's looking for. He pops the lid of the bottle of lube open with his thumb, and Simon almost whimpers, gripping at Wille’s arm with one hand, while also tugging his knee to his chest, opening himself up to Wille’s hand as he slides his palm along Simon’s thigh.
It's with slow and careful movements that Wille eases one, and then two fingers into Simon, listening carefully to the sounds he makes, feeling the response of his body and following the cues as best he can, keeping his eyes trained on Simon’s face, watching for any signs of discomfort that lay outside the boundary of pleasure.
“f*ck,” Simon hisses, fists clenched into the bedding beneath him. His head is thrown back, the skin of his neck stretched taut, catching the soft light of the room, small shadows forming at his Adam’s apple as it bobs up and down rapidly as Simon swallows repeatedly, between gasping breaths and quiet moans. Wille feels Simon rocking his hips slightly, pushing into his fingers.
“Wille - Wille - ” Simon’s voice is high pitched, desperate.
“Hm?”
“I - I’m ready,” Simon rasps, his hand finding Wille’s wrist, not pulling him out, but more to give some kind of reassurance.
Wille slowly withdraws his fingers from Simon, revelling in the soft whine that comes from Simon, and sits up, fumbling around for the box of condoms he’d tossed onto the bed earlier. Simon is almost panting, breathing hard and fast as Wille extricates a condom from the box, willing his fingers to stop shaking. It is all so much, too much, not enough, too fast, too slow, and Wille has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment, taking a steadying breath, before letting out a pathetic moan as he rolls the condom on.
Simon sits up, grabbing at Wille’s face and dragging him close, kissing him with a burning fervour, before he pulls away again, staring at him with intoxicating intensity that makes the heat in Wille’s body spike in ferocity.
“How -” Wille starts, awkwardness threatening to overwhelming him, muffling the words in his throat.
In silent answer to Wille’s partial question, Simon turns away, settling on his hands and knees, his ass pressing against Wille’s aching dick, and Wille lets out a strangled groan. His hands instinctively grip onto Simon’s waist, his palms sitting perfectly into the dip above Simon’s hip bones, as though Wille was always meant to take hold of Simon like this.
“f*ck, Simon,” Wille whispers, looking down at the slender expanse of Simon’s back, the parallel dips that run either side down the length of his spine, the movements of his shoulder blades beneath his skin as Simon pushes himself back against Wille, grinding them together, the swell of his ass sending Wille almost over the edge.
Simon looks over his shoulder at Wille, his eyes dark, lips swollen, hair covering half his face. “Wille -” he whines. “Wille, please -”
Wille just nods dizzyingly fast, and moves a hand between them, slicking his dick with lube and lining himself with Simon’s entrance, pushing gently at his rim. Sure, he’s opened Simon up, but he knows, wants , to be slow. He doesn’t want to even risk a slight chance of Simon experiencing any kind of pain. And so he is slow. He slowly enters Simon, resisting every urge within him to simply drive home immediately, doing his best to savour the feeling of Simon adjusting to him, his walls tensing and relaxing as Wille inches inside. It’s a heady feeling that swamps Wille as he almost bottoms out, hearing Simon moaning and gasping beneath him, his head dropped down, fists bunched into the bedcover. Wille places a hand at the base of Simon’s spine, massaging his thumb back and forth slightly, the other hand still at Simon’s waist, keeping him steady.
“Okay?” Wille asks, his voice tight, slightly high pitched.
Simon hums agreement, nodding his head up and down, curls swinging wildly. He pushes back a little, testing his own limits, and gives a soft cry, back arching. “f*ck, f*ck, Wille, pl - please.”
Wille pulls back slightly, then eases forward, the tightness of Simon feeling wholly unfamiliar and somehow better than he could have ever imagined or dreamt. He sets a slow but steady pace, f*cking into Simon with a kind of desperation he’s never experienced. He loves Simon, he loves Simon, and he wants to show him that, with every movement and sound and sensation. He runs the palm of his hand over Simon’s back, the skin warm, a thin layer of sweat making the soft peaks of bone and muscle shine in the subdued lighting. Wille fights to keep control, the occasional moan escaping his lips, his ears singing at the sounds that come from Simon. But Simon feels all too far away, Wille craves more touch, more contact between the two of them. He slides his hand up Simon’s back again, and hooks into his shoulder, giving him a gentle tug upwards. Simon gets the message, adjusting his position with a gasp, moving so that his back is flush with Wille’s chest, up on his knees, like Wille is.
Wille snakes a hand round Simon’s waist, taking hold of his dick, timing his strokes with his slow thrusts into Simon. Simon’s head lolls back onto Wille’s shoulder, breathing hard, small whimpers escaping him as he takes a scrabbling hold of the back of Wille’s neck, tugging his head to kiss him, slightly awkwardly, messy and at the wrong angle, but it doesn’t matter. Wille flicks his tongue into Simon’s open mouth, then burns kisses into the skin of his neck, across his shoulder.
“Ah - f*ck - faster, please - ah -” Simon gasps, his fingers twisting into Wille’s hair and pulling slightly. The sensation is unfamiliar, and it ought to hurt, ought to distract Wille from the situation; but it doesn’t. Instead, it only heightens the burning desire within him, and aids in his increase in pace as he snaps his hips into Simon’s, gripping onto his waist with both hands now. Simon has a tight hold on one of Wille’s wrists, the other still in his hair, keeping himself upright as much as he can, widening his knees slightly to spread his balance over a wider area, sinking against Wille.
Simon lets out a different cry as Wille f*cks faster, his walls clenching as Wille knows he hits that spot deep inside him.
“Yes-yes-yes-yes-” Simon is rasping repeatedly, voice choked and desperate, interlaced with moans and soft whimpers of Wille’s name.
Wille’s voice is similarly wrecked as he simply whispers, “I love you I love you I love you,” over and over again, pressing his forehead into the back of of Simon’s neck, gasping through the sensations buzzing through him, willing himself to push back against the ever increasing white hot peak that trickles through his veins.
Wille doesn’t know how long it is before Simon’s strength seems to falter, but he knows he wouldn’t have lasted much longer in their current position either. Simon falls forward again, hands planted on the bed in front of him, and moves back with Wille as he rests back on his heels, keeping himself inside Simon as he moves. He only pushes gently upwards into Simon once or twice, as they both catch their breath.
“f*cking hell,” Simon chokes, a slight bubble of laughter in his voice.
“You alright?” Wille asks, trailing his fingers across Simon’s lower back.
“Alright? Alright?” Simon cries. He gives a small whine as he pulls off Wille’s dick, turning around to face him, wincing ever so slightly. “I am f*cking amazing.”
“Oh -” Wille blusters, his cheeks inexplicably flushing. “Good.”
Simon smirks. “Yeah, good,” he says, his eyes roving over Wille, devouring the sight before him hungrily. “Can I - I want to, uh -” he pauses, clearing his throat, before he manages to go on. “Can you sit up over there?” he asks Wille, gesturing to the head of the bed. “Like, leaning against the headboard. Legs out.”
Wille understands, and he grins. “You want to -”
“Yes, I want to ride you,” Simon blurts out, tugging at Wille to get him to move, and he does, giving a little laugh as he settles against the headboard, watching with almost limp limbs as Simon crawls over him, sitting up on his knees in front of him, over his waist.
Before Wille can say or do anything more, Simon is kissing him. It’s slow, less messy than previous kisses but still just as intense, and it just adds yet another lit match to the fire burning within Wille.
“I love you,” Simon whispers, a minute tremor in his voice, his hands cupping Wille’s face.
Wille’s heart swells. “I love you,” he says, brushing flyaway strands of hair off Simon’s face, peppering kisses over his cheeks, then trailing down to his neck, feeling Simon shift in his lap, his dick pressing against his stomach.
“Need - need a hand,” Simon mumbles, sitting up slightly, planting a hand on either side of his ass, opening himself for Wille again. The sight makes Wille’s head spin for the millionth time that night, and he hurriedly takes hold of himself, ensuring the condom is still securely on and messily depositing more lube on his dick, then lines it up with Simon’s hole.
Simon whimpers desperately as he sinks down, down, down, taking Wille’s length in one go, barely hesitating or pausing at any point. When Wille knows he is fully inside Simon, he wraps his arms around Simon’s waist, holding him tightly. This, this, is the contact he craves, Simon right in front of him, on him, chest to chest. Simon winds his own arms around Wille’s neck, burying his head in Wille’s shoulder as he rocks forward, his breath hot over Wille’s bare skin. The weight of Simon over him is more electrifying than Wille could have expected, and he can only hold tightly onto Simon as he rolls his hips back and forward, grinding over him, gasping with each movement.
“Feels - feels so good,” Simon whimpers into Wille’s neck. One of his hands once again find its way to Wille’s hair, running his fingers through the strands at the back of his head.
Wille knows he can’t last much longer. Simon’s pressure over him, the feeling of being inside him, the sensations coursing through his body, it’s all mixing together in a deliciously overwhelming firing of nerves. But he pushes back against his release as much as he can, wanting to have Simon tip over the edge first, putting his pleasure before his own.
With slightly shaking hands, Wille takes hold of Simon’s waist again, and gives the slightest tug upwards. Simon follows his cue once more, and rises off him slightly, before Wille pulls down, and Simon seats himself again, moaning as Wille fills him. Simon raises his head from Wille’s shoulder, his hands cupping at Wille’s head, elbows to Wille’s chest to support himself as he moves up and down, staring at Wille with his blown-out eyes, lips swollen, slightly parted. Wille helps as best he can, guiding Simon as he rides him, moaning through the tempting edge that is creeping up on him.
It could be seconds, minutes, or hours later, Wille doesn’t know, but Simon suddenly stutters out, “I - I’m close - f*ck - Wille - Wille -”
Wille moves a hand from Simon’s hip, and takes hold of Simon’s length between them, hard and hot, and begins stroking him, trying to keep time with Simon’s movements, but quickly gives up on that, as Simon’s riding becomes erratic and without rhythm, lost in the pleasure of the approaching peak.
“Simon -” Wille starts frantically, a hint of urgency to his voice. They hadn’t talked about how they wanted to finish. f*ck.
“Inside,” Simon pants, tugging Wille’s hair, making him gasp. “Cum inside.”
Wille nods, the thought sending a hot rush through him, pushing him ever closer to the edge. He pumps Simon’s dick faster, until Simon’s breathing becomes high pitched, his forehead pressed against Wille’s as he does his best to keep his eyes open and looking into Wille’s face.
“Wille - Wille - ” Simon’s voice cracks, and his head rolls back as he hits his peak, jaw slack as an unholy sound escapes him. The feeling of Simon tensing around him sends Wille over the edge only moments after, and they’re both cumming hard, clinging to each other, bodies entwined. Wille’s vision goes white for a moment, faintly aware of Simon tugging hard at his hair, but more focussed on the sensation of every single synapse firing within him simultaneously, flooding him with a kind of pleasure that he’s never experienced before. Simon slumps forward, head in Wille’s shoulder again, panting hard and fast, his touch gentle now, running his fingers softly through Wille’s hair, coasting him through the last couple of waves of his org*sm.
Despite his limbs feeling like jelly, Wille finds the energy somewhere within himself to raise his arms to support Simon upright, cupping his face, and kisses him. It’s soft, slow, a tender kind of reparation for the almost overwhelming sensations they’d just experienced. Together. Together.
“I love you,” Wille whispers between kisses.
Simon gives a soft giggle, brushing their noses together, stroking Wille’s cheeks. “I love you.”
*
Wille doesn’t really know how either of them have it in them to move from the bed, but they manage it. He’s blissfully sated, limbs warm and heavy, heart full, and he wishes nothing more than to simply tug Simon close and fall asleep.
But they’re both covered in sex. Simon’s cum has dried over Wille’s stomach and chest, and there’s lube in so many places that Wille doesn’t quite understand how it all got there, and they both have a thin sheen of sweat over their skin; the fireplace in the main room had done a spectacular job of warming the entire cabin, almost too good a job.
Simon eases himself off Wille, and they eventually make their way to the bathroom. Wille pulls off the condom, tying it off and hiding it in a wad of toilet paper in the bin, ignoring Simon’s giggle. The shower is pretty small, but Wille doesn’t want to be away from Simon’s space for more than a moment, so he pulls him in as well, ensuring the stream of water doesn’t hit his curls. Simon’s hair is a mess, but Wille knows it’s probably still able to be tamed, as long as he doesn’t get it wet.
“Simon, can I - can I clean you up?” Wille asks quietly. Simon blushes slightly, smiling shyly, but nods.
Wille gently wipes a soapy flannel over Simon’s skin, cleaning every part of him with careful attention. Once he’s done, Simon reaches out of the shower, picking up the second flannel, rotating it in his hands nervously, looking up at Wille, eyelashes wet, beads of condensation on his skin.
“My turn?” Simon murmurs, holding the flannel under the stream of water between them. Wille’s knees threaten to give way, but he keeps himself together, nodding slowly, unable to stop the slightly silly smile that tugs at his lips. He can feel the shape of Simon’s hand on the other side of the material that slides over his skin, washing away the residue of their exploits. Simon simply drops the flannel to the floor when he’s finished, and wraps his arms around Wille’s neck, pulling their bodies together. There’s a slightly wet smacking sound as the two of them press together, and then they’re both giggling and holding onto each other as a kind of support.
“This is - this was insane,” Simon squeaks, shaking his head against Wille’s shoulder.
“But - but it was good?” Wille says, slight trepidation creeping through him. What if Simon regrets it? What if he realises that maybe he’s not actually in love with him, that it was just a silly schoolboy crush, and he did actually get over him after all, and -
“It was everything,” Simon whispers.
Wille’s heart slows down, his racing thoughts stop, and his body relaxes.
The shower eventually starts to run cold, so they both hurry to wrap themselves in the warmed towels, drying off and pulling on pajamas. Wille knows he’d much rather simply wrap his naked body around Simon’s, skin to skin as they sleep, but he knows that it’ll only get colder as the night goes on. Neither of them say much, simply moving around and with each other as they always have, but there’s a different level to it, more connectedness and understanding. Wille mutely tugs the cover off the bed, replacing it with a spare one from the wardrobe in the corner of the room, not wanting to sleep under vaguely lube-stained bedding. He cringes inwardly at the thought of housekeeping going through the laundry after they’ve left, but he pushes it from his mind.
“Do I still have to sleep on the couch?” Simon asks slyly, smirking.
Wille rolls his eyes, tugging at Simon’s waist and pulling him over to the bed. “Definitely not.”
Simon giggles, letting Wille tug him into bed, winding the two of them together, resting his head on Wille’s chest.
Wille holds onto Simon as tight as he can, tilting his head slightly to rest against Simon’s curls, breathing in the faint remains of his lavender curl treatment, blended with the lily scented soap from the shower. Familiar, with a hint of something new. Just like the two of them as a whole.
“You broke the final rule,” says Simon after a few moments.
Wille furrows his brow. “Huh?”
“The final rule. Don’t fall in love with me,” Simon murmurs. His voice is fading, and Wille knows that he’s drifting off.
“I think that it was worth it,” Wille whispers back. Simon gives a contented hum, nudging into his chest a little more, tightening his hold around Wille.
“I love you,” Wille breathes, kissing the top of Simon’s head.
“I love you,” Simon mumbles faintly. “So much.”
Wille reaches out, without shifting Simon’s position, and switches off the bedside light. The room falls into darkness, and within a few moments, Simon’s breathing changes, and Wille knows he’s fallen asleep. As Wille himself drifts off, heart content and body sated, he can’t help but think vaguely of just how annoying Alex is going to be when he finds out that he’s been right nearly the whole time.
