ordinar | haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?

haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?

wilmon cum sock

CW: dumb underage kids fucking

[Does that turn you on? he had teased when Simon pulled away from their kiss to switch on some gaming livestream — for the sake of masking whatever ungainly noises might slip out while they crash their bodies together mouths-first. Or...other things first. Eventually. But the thing is, after about ten seconds the cacophony of explosions and lasers fades from Wilhelm's notice. It gets drowned out by the soft spiking of Simon's breath, the wordless conversation of their lips moving together, the hum curling up in his throat like a pleased cat. The tattoo of his heart pounding through his whole body, every nerve electrifyingly alert.

For another thing, that's all it takes for his dick to go rigid in his jeans: Simon's lips spreading open beneath his, and his musician's fingers stroking his hair, and his trim chest, all golden brown skin and delicate muscle, arching into his embrace. Seeking him. Wanting him. All of it making Wilhelm wonder how the hell he ever managed to sit next to him without touching him all over.

He breaks the kiss — panting as if it's not air he needs, but Simon's lips — only to yank his own shirt off. He discards it with the carelessness of someone who has no concept of fifteen minutes from now but thrives only in the present flash of time. Next, his jeans. His lips return to Simon's as he pries open the button, tugs down the zipper, and shimmies out.]

Here. Come on.

[Grabbing him by those slender wrists, he pulls him toward the bed, which he invites himself to sit down on. Grinning up at him, he works open Simon's pants. Cock tenting his boxers, laughter warming his lips and lighting his eyes, he's bold and shy all at once.]

( it's weird to think of someone even tangentially related to royalty as being in his tiny, messy room, let alone the crown prince, but it's even weirder to think of that person as wille. it's different when they're at school, and there are defined me and them lines drawn in the sand, with wille landing nowhere else but in the palm of his hand. outside of school everyone else is unimportant, people simon will never have to see again. but wilhelm? he's the prince. and for the next little while, he's all simon's.

more than a little intoxicated by wilhelm's presence in his room, he follows after him, slotting skinny legs between wille's spread knees, letting loose a warm breath as his fingers dance along the front of his jeans. something like a nervous chuckle falls out of his mouth, both hands quirking up either side of wilhelm's cheeks before his fingers glide through his hair, tilting his head up and towards him. )

You must be in a rush. ( well — they are in a rush, naturally, but simon isn't think about that. he bends, pressing their mouths together in something lingering and slow, or as slow as his mouth will let him be as he steps out of his pants, taking a seat instead on wille's lap. their erections brush together, cotton to cotton, and simon shudders with the feeling, purposely rocking them together again. ) Did Wille miss me?

[In the dizzy, breathless moment that his arms cinch around Simon, he's thinking a lot of things. Quick sparks of realization like oh my god, I'm on Simon's bed and oh my god, he's in my lap. Muffled, suffocated concerns about the thinness of the walls. But it all folds into one rushing, overwhelming awareness of Simon, whose warm weight presses a soft groan from Wilhelm's chest, whose brilliance makes his eyelids flutter shut.

When they open again, he finds himself staring at Simon's eyes like they're the moon. Not the sun — it hurts to look directly at the sun. But the moon you can gaze at all you want.]

All the time.

[He might be more embarrassed by such a naked declaration, except he's distracted by the friction of Simon's dick bumping against his and wobbling his breath.

This isn't some empty, ephemeral flirtation that will wither as soon as this is done. Wilhelm misses Simon every time they're not together. Alone in his room at Forest Ridge House, he hangs onto every text, silly, sweet, or serious. During the day his eyes are always scouring campus for that bright spot of familiarity. And even when they're together at school, it isn't quite the same. The inches between them feel like miles when he's not allowed to grab his hand or wrap his arms around him or kiss him. They're not allowed to be themselves fully until they retreat to their world of two.

In a fit of unfounded confidence, he grabs Simon's ass and encourages him to grind down as he shoves his hips forward to meet him. His lips slide from Simon's to press kisses into the curve of his neck. Velvety little puppy moans tickle hot against his skin.

They are always in a rush as a matter of course, but it's a delicate balance to strike. Needing to rush but not wanting to come too fast. His body is helpless to Simon's pull, a meteor burning up in his atmosphere, because what else can it do?]

( it's easy to hold wilhelm — in fact, simon isn't sure he's ever known someone more holdable in his life, if only because of how effortless he makes it. constantly nodding into the affection, greedily reaching for more and more of it, like touching his skin and kissing his face is any real hardship on simon's behalf. it isn't. maybe he could do a better job of convincing wilhelm of that much, with words as reassurances, but for now it seems more poignant to let his body do the talking for him. to slide his fingers through wilhelm's soft, blond hair and let himself tilt his head back and moan, letting himself feel good. wille's in his bed. it's kind of — a revelation, that keeps getting rediscovered, every time he looks down.

he's really, really here. no sneaking around bodyguards or avoiding august. here where the only threat is his mother coming in without knocking, or sara pushing her ear against the door. not all the high stakes involved with politics and popularity — just simon and wilhelm. the way it should be.

unconsciously his hips circle around and back on wille's lap, grinding against his cock with inexperienced, unplanned movements. his breath comes out faster and faster, until — he takes a louder gasp, pressing his hands on wille's shoulders to push him back, a little. not meanly — a smile turns up the corners of his mouth quickly, an embarrassed laugh falling out as he moves to push their noses together, affectionately nuzzling him. )

Stop, stop, or I'm going to come in my underwear. Shut up, don't laugh! ( simon is already laughing at his own expense though, boyishly kissing him between amused breaths. it flips like a switch, though — playfulness into seduction, simon laughing before tilting his chin up, hands sliding down wilhelm's chest to pull at the elastic band to his boxers. ) If it feels good like that, won't it be better when there's nothing between us? Hm? ( teasingly, his fingers dip in, tucking wille's velvet cock up into his waistband, swirling gentle fingers around the wet tip. ) With all that missing me, I bet you have some ideas.

[They work with all the grace of children smashing toy trucks together, but — from where Wilhelm sits it feels like the most beautiful thing, connecting with Simon at a level so raw and visceral.

When those hands shove at his shoulders, he leans back to twist his fingers in the comforter. He has to suck in a breath and shove his thoughts toward something other than Simon, and his lithe body undulating in his lap, and his firm cock both feeding him and making him hungrier with every press. He lands on the absurd scene in the living room, his bodyguard and Simon's mom left there to kill time. What would they even talk about?

It's absurd enough to rip a laugh from him, which softens for Simon's protests. The thought that he could take Simon to the steepest edge of pleasure so fast is exhilarating. Greedily, Wilhelm holds it close. So few things really belong to him and no one else, and this is one of them. This. Them. A bright, unabashed grin splits his face as their noses bump together.

Then Simon's fingers are slipping into his boxers, curling around his cock, and his breath catches. He already knows he'll be thinking about this the next time they sit at the piano bench together. Instinctively — answering his constant craving for touch — he cradles the side of Simon's head, stroking his curls, biting his lip as a whimper rises up. Already, a damp patch darkens the blue of his underwear.]

You miss me just as much. [He pokes at Simon's stomach, but the poking quickly turns into caressing. Then, well, he might as well steal a kiss, the sweetness sharpened by urgency.] Admit it.

[Another laugh. It comes so easily when he's with Simon, despite everything crashing down around him outside of this little safe haven. He hums then, part pleasure and part agreement.]

I might have a few... [Gently, he taps at Simon's chest.] Lie down.

( nearing something sheepish while aiming for something coy, simon gives a shrug of one shoulder. )

Maybe a little. ( well — wille managed to be honest, so simon can figure his way there, too. halving down over him, he presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his amused smile turning into something just a little bit more shy. ) Okay, a lot.

( his stomach bunches and gives little jumps to wille's every motion, keening into his touch with little thought. a hot breath pumps out of his mouth at the slightest twitch of a downward angle, the anticipation of touch plenty to make him want to writhe around in wille's lap to orgasm. but. he's plenty capable of being patient (ish) too, sliding his hand from wilhelm's cock with a rub against the head in finality, smearing pre all over his knuckles before he rolls off him, flopping onto his back on the bed beside him.

there's a moment that he steals away, just looking at the prince's profile. backdropped by video game posters and cluttered knick knacks that line simon's walls, he doesn't look like a sore thumb at all — blending in with all the things that simon considers his. eventually, he bends to press a kiss against wilhelm's bony shoulder, bringing his knees up just to it's easier to shove his underwear down his hips and off his legs with a few short motions. naked now, he stays flat on his back, watching wille watch him. )

You know, I have ideas, too. ( he grins. ) I think about you, too.

[It's the strangest thing. Though he'd never set foot in this room until today, something about it feels like home. Maybe it's because Simon's presence imbues the space with warmth, every kiss and touch ensuring him that he's right where he's supposed to be. Or maybe it's because the palace he's lived in all his life feels gutted now that Erik is dead, familiar rooms made strange and somber by the absence of his brother, all those lofty ceilings haunted with his mother's towering expectations.

With naked hunger he watches Simon stretch himself along the length of the bed. Before Wilhelm can even take in the full the view — eyes roaming the ridges of his hipbones, the dark curls leading to his cock, which is so heavy with anticipation that it reclines against the lower curve of his stomach — impatience has him crawling on top of him. His boxers get shucked, dick bobbing free, as he crushes Simon's gorgeously drawn cupid's-bow lips with his own.

But there's more to explore, so soon Wilhelm is spilling kisses down his golden throat and over his chest. Fingers fluttering over his ribs, curtains of hair tickling his skin, cross necklace swaying with his every effort.]

Yeah? [He sucks a kiss to his belly, just above the navel.] Like what?

[It may become difficult for Simon to answer, though, as Wilhelm brushes his lips across the flushed head of his cock. Curious, he cradles his balls in his palm, gives a little squeeze. The look he aims up at Simon is entirely too innocent to be trusted.]

( lithe fingers splay out on the heights of wille's shoulders, kissing him and sinking his teeth into his tongue to keep from whining when he moves away, body wracked with shudders as he descends lower and lower. his hands shift almost on cue, lifting up to glide through wille's soft hair in a repetitive motion like petting, though in reality he just can't make himself stop touching him, feeling his hair glide through his fingers like silk. )

Like — um.

( he means to carry on, something cocky ( ha ) and confident sitting on his tongue, but that's when wilhelm decides to take him in his mouth so — thought is just a bit of a pipe dream now. simon's hand lifts so he can bite against his knuckles, a groan half in fond exasperation and half in needy arousal falls out of his lips, despite his attempt to keep it otherwise locked inside.

yeah. wille did that on purpose.

he only looks down for a second to see the prince's lips pressed pretty and pink around his cock before he has to look anywhere else, grinning up at the ceiling as he flattens his palm over half of his face. he shakes his head, almost disbelieving. )

Um, I think ... Like — eventually, maybe, one day, we'll like ... you know. Go all the way.

[It's a little frightening, wanting something so much. Needing someone so much. When he's with Simon, he always feels like he's on some precipice, ready to tilt right over the edge. But it's a good kind of falling, he thinks, the breathless rush-y kind — and he feels it now when Simon says go all the way, holding his smile tight and trembling. Wilhelm grins up at him, cracking the seal of his lips over Simon's cockhead.]

I'd like that, Simon.

[Someday when they feel ready. When it isn't so intimidating. Until then, there are so many other ways to become acquainted with Simon's body and the soul thrumming inside. Really, the trouble is that he has too many ideas. How can he settle on one? He wants to fill his mouth with Simon's cock and suck him dry, which he begins to do now, bowing over him as if in prayer, thumbing the gathering bead of precum like a rosary and smearing it around. His tongue cradles the heavy head, lips closing around it.

But he also wants to slot their hips together and grind Simon into the mattress, grind them into stardust, until their cum pools together on his taut stomach like a new galaxy spattering the dark of space. And he also—

A few bobs up and down, swallowing as much of Simon's cock as he can, suffocating it within the cinch of tongue and cheeks, and then Wilhelm pulls back. He has that dazed and dazzled look he often has with Simon, like he can't believe that he's really there. With as much care as his urgency allows, he grabs him by the hips and prompts him to roll onto his stomach. Now his lips find the small of his back, his hungry hands the curve of his ass, carefully studying its shape. He hums his quiet contentment.]

( he'd like that. it feels like a weird weight off his chest, even if wille's agreement is likely the most obvious thing on the planet to anyone else. to simon too, who's looking down at the crowned prince sucking his dick, who hasn't ever really doubted their connection, but finds himself soothed by the words spoken aloud anyway — something like i want you and yes, me too. not today, and probably not tomorrow, but one day. that's how serious he feels about him.

simon has a hand brushing through wille's hair before he gives himself the signal to move, and it's — intimate, and it feels a little bold, but it's also. nice. wille's has soft, silky hair, and when he sucks simon can drop his thumb to the hollow of his cheek, feel his cock inside of him leaving little smudges all along his tongue. he can't help but think that wille is weirdly pretty, like this — not with a dick in his mouth, but just. being himself. shining like a north star. not letting the monarchy dictate his choices, and letting his heart bleed every shade of vibrant red.

he rolls at wille's suggestion, ass propped up in the air. he turns to look over his shoulder, and then quickly flushes and looks away, pressing his face down into his stupid sheets that have experienced just a few wille fantasies by way of his right hand. he thinks his room is always going to look plain now, without wille there to fill it up. )

Are you just going to look? You must be shy.

( funny, saying that with his mouth pressed to his mattress, words muffled and low. it's just easier to call wilhelm out on what he's obviously feeling, swaying his hips from side to side. )

[Wilhelm draws back on his knees, leaving kisses to cool on Simon's skin. He can't stop looking. Simon, spread out for him like a book he's welcome to peruse at his leisure. Trusting him. Anticipating him. Looking, however, is only a fraction of what he wants to do. Simon's teasing — a lot of stones from someone face down and ass up in a glass house — earns him a playful smack on the cheek.]

Shut up.

[A retort without teeth, as he's grinning and groaning at once. For the sake of fairness, he gives the other cheek a light tap. Firm to his touch, and fascinating, the way it bounces. Weird and beautiful and admittedly a little bit funny, the way their bodies work. With a self-conscious giggle, Wilhelm resolves to take Simon's ass in two handfuls and just...squish his cheeks together.]

You have a cute butt.

[This is mumbled with the reverent hush of a confessional booth. Then, unable to resist the pull of gravity any longer, he stretches his body over Simon's, sticks to him like another shadow. His knees settle in between Simon's, creaking the mattress. His hands press down on either side of him. His dick ends up nestled in the cleft of Simon's ass. This proves to be something of a revelation, the dry friction pushing a soft groan out of Wilhelm and goading his hips into wiggling around to ignite the sensation again.]

Mm...this okay?

[Ducking down, he presses a kiss to one golden brown shoulder. His hair sweeps over his skin, cool and soft in contrast to the insistent heat of his lips.]

( his back bows in response to the smack, a soft gasp lost somewhere in the crinkle of his sheets. simon means to be annoyed by it, affronted by it, but is instead — a little excited by it. the second spank deftly solidifies his opinions on it, a roaring too thumbs up which are only evident by the louder groan he lets out, muffled but not completely covered by the bedding in his mouth. his hips wiggle, swaying under the attention, like he might just ask for another smack to see how else his body will respond.

not that he has the chance. he can feel his cheeks his hot under wille's attention, rolling his eyes as a means to conceal his own self consciousness. )

Fuck off. ( he lets out a laugh, hoarse, shaking his head. ) You're cute. Like a puppy.

( but — with the velvet heat of wille's cock rutting against him, simon forgets to be anything but enamored, whimpering a little as he props his hips up, hungry for more of the heat. turning his head over his shoulder, simon bites his lip before lifting himself up enough to not disturb wille's position, but to spit hotly into the palm of his hand. reaching behind him, he catches wille's cock, jerking him off slowly, making sure to wet the entirety of his length and make rubbing against his ass easier. the thought of it — what they're doing, what they're going to do, makes simon blush, makes him laugh softly, letting wille's wet dick rest against his ass once he reassumes the position. )

Mhm. ( it's more of a nod than actual words, simon squirming underneath him to get him back in motion. one hand moves, resting on top of wille's, pinned to the bed. simon sweetly interlaces their pinkies, keeping his affection quiet. well, kind of. ) Kiss me?

[It's as if he's unraveling, and the more threads pull loose, the more easily he snags on every little detail. Simon clutching at his sheets, mouth clamped down, cute in his stubborn shyness. His laugh, hoarse and airless, shuddering from his throat. His whimpering and wriggling in answer to the press of Wilhelm's cock, matching his hunger. A thousand little things to love about Simon.

(Love? He doesn't quite think the word, but mainly because his mind is all an inchoate swirl, too fluid to hold any particular shape. It's less the word and more the thing itself that thrums through him unnamed.)

And the more Wilhelm gets snagged, the further he unravels. The hot slick of Simon's palm squeezing his shaft wrings from him a groan loud enough to contend with the clamor coming from the TV. Teeth digging into his lower lip, breath sagging heavier, he fucks into Simon's hand, until — another twist, and his dick is pushing against his ass again. With each thrust, the spit slicking him smears along the channel his cock follows between those two firm cheeks. The friction softens without releasing them from its grip.

Stitching him together is Simon's pinky intertwining with his. Grinning deliriously, he leans in — not to answer Simon's request, but to lick his cheek, wet and sloppy and noisy. That's for comparing him to a puppy. Wilhelm laughs in his ear, a low, honeyed sound. Just as fast, he makes amends by claiming his lips in a slow, sweet kiss.]

( he means to be affronted, except wilhem's tongue is only a revelation, only silly enough to bring a smile to his face for a moment before his expression twists in the confines of pleasure, gasping outright at the feeling of wille's weight between his legs. maybe a second ago, he could've told wille to be careful, to be quiet, to tease him about the size and volume of his wanting — but it's all few and far away now, a thought that someone else had. because simon feels different. he feels the weight of a hundred other responsibilities soundly move to the back burner while he throws himself into this moment, kissing wille, pulling back to gasp and press his nose into his cheek. puppy dog nuzzles. it's on theme.

he's sure in his life he's going to have countless erections, and probably a lot of them will be because of wille, but this feels like the hardest he's ever been, pressed up flush to his bedspread, wille's heat laying all over him like a blanket. he heaves himself up, not enough to push wille away, but enough to flatten one hand on the bed, supporting himself, while the other snakes low to cup his weeping cock, stroking inelegantly. he doesn't have another hand available to pull wilhem's mouth to his, but he makes a pleading sound anyway, head turned over his shoulder to catch him. )

Wille. ( there's something deeply embarrassing about his voice now — rasped and honey warm. he shudders, affected, trying to nuzzle against wille's cheek enough that he finds some place to hide away in. moaning, he grips himself harder, not having the wherewithal to stop from leaking on his sheets, smudges of cum that will probably stain. he shimmies against him, rocking his hips back to grind — it really is a little like dancing, which simon has always been good at. ) God — don't stop. Whatever you do.

[The world shrinks to just Simon. Or rather, Simon's presence swells to become the entirety of the world. His voice, heavy and shuddering like it's trying to hold too much, thrums through Wilhelm. His scent, which he drinks with his nose nuzzled into Simon's curls, becomes a sort of atmosphere surrounding him.

The world is warm and safe and secret. It's all theirs.]

I won't...I won't...

[Feverishly, Wilhelm thrusts against Simon as if hellbent on melding their bodies together. As if they might be clay, malleable enough to form a new shape out of. He kisses him, breathless and messy, burying groans in his shoulder, hair, ear. His lips latch onto the lobe, teeth tugging. Everything is instinct now: all he knows is that he has to have this boy, and as he can't cradle his actual heart in his hands, then he'll just have to wrap himself around every part he can reach.

For a small eternity, there is only this. Friction and sweat and creaky bedsprings. The soft, carnal music of mouths and muffled moans, of balls squishing against buttcheek. At one point, the angle of Simon's shimmying hips invites Wilhelm's cockhead to rub against the tight ring of his hole. On the next pass, it's purposeful. A taste of that nebulous someday.

And then, just as he's sure he's only got seconds left, all of him spinning out and unraveling into cosmic dust from the force of his arousal—

A knock comes at the bedroom door. The reminder that anything else is somehow still happening outside of themselves is disorienting, and it sends Wilhelm springing off of Simon. Elbow banging into the wall, groping for a pillow or something to cover himself up with, he almost misses the message Simon's mom passes along: Ten minutes until dinner's ready, boys.]

( he feels it peaking at the same time — his body rocking with wille's, covered by him, nestled like something precious under his weight. it could be the sensation as much as the feeling it stirs, being in a moment with wille, promises staining the air with something sweet and almost tangible, that feels like forever in a foolhardy, lovesick way. he's not thinking about the complications of them being together — he's not really thinking about anything, except wille's hot breath and beautiful body, and how badly he wants everyday to be exactly like this. he misses it, and it's not even gone, yet.

until it is. simon responds as viscerally as wilhelm, startling up and pressing his scattered blanket to his dick, perking up like a meerkat at his mother's voice. he's two steps away from running across the room and clamping his hand down on the knob to stop her entry — but instead just manages to say, ) Ye — yeah! Yes. We'll be out when we find a, um. A save point. Mom.

( he doesn't breathe until his mother's footsteps disappear further into the house, and then he lets out all the breath he'd been storing up inside himself when wille was on him. turning to look at him, simon settles back onto his feet, naked and hard, weighing his options. on the one hand — they clean up, probably go sit in a room with his mother and sister and wille's bodyguards and eat dinner while stiff in their pants, suffering. on the other, he rushes through getting off with wille, having less time to look presentable, but —

lets not even pretend it's a choice, really. simon already knows. )

You better not laugh, Wille. ( he moves over to where wille was spooked against the wall, coming up to him, batting his hands away from himself. simon spreads his palms on wille's smooth, lean waist, maneuvering from hips to cock breezily. he hums in his ear. ) I know where you sleep at night. I know how easy it is to sneak in, when your door's left unlocked.

( really just rambling, in an effort to get his mind out of panic mode and more in fuck me now, simon mode. he strokes his cock, up and down, letting his mouth find the thrumming beat of wille's pulse in his neck, dragging his teeth against the sensitive parts and only just remembering not to leave a mark. with ease, he sinks down onto his knees, pressing his lips to the pocket of wille's hips. )

I'll torture you, just like this. ( lips on the root of his cock, featherlight, teasing. leaning barely back, simon's tongue laps at the wet tip with a curious lick, lifting his eyes up to bat heavy eyelashes at him. ) Just shut up and cum, baby.

Edited 2022-10-31 03:30 (UTC)

[The thirty seconds that Linda stands on the other side of the door stretch and screech into an eternity in which everything stands still, except for his heart battering the inside of his ribcage. Later, it might strike him as suspiciously generous that she gave them a whole ten minute warning. He might wonder if she guesses that they're not playing games at all, that it's not a save point they're so frantic to reach.

But right now, all he can think of is Simon, and how his whole body feels wrong with Simon's warmth peeled away from it, and how his dick has never been harder in his life. When Simon's hands come back to him, stroking his shaft as his teeth scrape his pulse, Wilhelm melts down the wall. By the time Simon's lips consecrate the divot of his hip, his back is pressed flat to the mattress and his fingers are tangled in those gorgeous curls. And when that mouth, angelic and devious at once, claims his cock — all of him trembles around a moan. At Simon's throaty command, Wilhelm almost does come.

But— Petting Simon's hair, pulling at his shoulders, he coaxes him to join him. To align their bodies like planets, like the moon and sun in eclipse. Something rare.]

Come on, come on— I want to...mm...come with you, Simon.

[Wilhelm loops an arm around his waist, crashing their hips and grinding their cocks together. As desperate as he is for release, he wants to hold onto this moment for as long as he can. His lips hanging from Simon's, soft curls wound around his fingers, warm skin under his wandering palm. Squeezing Simon's hip, thigh, ass. Friction holding them together like gravity and pulling them apart. Simon's name panting out on every breath, until—

Toes curling, back arching, all of him pulled taut one second and released the next, he comes hard. Pearly spurts of cum spatter his stomach and Simon's sheets. As it tears out of him, his hips keep pushing, his hands keep caressing, and his lips keep babbling kisses in every nook and cranny of Simon's face.]

( it feels like he goes from the old news of a leaked sex tape, to the public boyfriend of prince wilhelm in a second. there's the distinct moment before wille says anything that simon is — resigned, and not unpleasantly, to the future laid out before him. two years of a secret, a lifetime of wilhelm. it's a shockingly easy choice after he's made it, somehow amazed that he didn't just try it on for size to begin with, but then — maybe he needed the time apart to recognize how badly he really does love wille. time needed to realize that actually, absolutely anything is worth it if he gets to have him. anyway — wille makes a different choice. in the lustrous high of his confessional aftermath, simon feels like he's floating. grinning, ear to ear, listening to the sounds of camera shutters and knowing, unspeakably, that he and wille are in it together.

the high is still going even as the fact of the matter settles in. suddenly simon is someone. suddenly people, sweden at large and the international news, want to know about him. the prince's paramour. it feels like by the time he and wille are ushered into a fancy car back to the palace, there are already magazines out — news articles, trending topics on twitter, a resurgence of the video, wille's speech and the smile he saves for simon alone being retweeted, reblogged, saved, liked, commented on. eventually simon plucks wille's phone out of his grip, and replaces it with his hand. they can freak out together, giddily, panicked, elated and unsure. well — about what all this means, at least. not about each other.

inside the palace, wille is drawn away to converse with some teams of some people that simon really couldn't even guess at their jobs — pr, maybe? — while he's left alone to wander the few rooms available to him. namely, wille's bedroom, which is not as grand as he expected, even if it's cleaned up spotless, the bed made pristine. he's not sure how long it takes before wille comes to find him — time is a confusing, strange thing, when all simon can do is replay wille, again and again and again, choosing him. not hiding him. deciding not to keep them a secret. the doors to his wardrobe are left lazily open and simon, inexplicably, is donning one of wille's sweaters, pressing the long sleeves to his nose and breathing deep.

eventually he notices wille and drops his hands, slightly embarrassed. he clears his throat. )

So, this is your room. ( he gives a small gesture around. and, eventually — out with it. ) Hey, so, are we boyfriends? I know it ... I know that's what everyone's saying online. But we didn't really talk about it first, so ... I mean, that's what I want. Definitely. If you want that.

[Standing there on the front steps of the school, with a wooden lectern the only defense between him and a row of cameras and hundreds of pairs of eyes, Wilhelm had felt for a moment that he was tilting over the edge of a precipice. His heart beat in the base of his throat, sweat slicked his palms, and the lurching in his stomach threatened the upheaval of his lunch. But Simon's presence, pressed into his awareness like the sun at one's back, assured him that everything would be okay. He had to pitch himself headlong into the unknown. Whatever happened from that point forward, he would not be alone. He could not be made to take back his truth.

It was out there, and it was beautiful. Him and Simon against the world.

Wilhelm bargains with his mom to bring Simon back to the palace. The queen wants a clean sweep of the scene, time to plan out the next PR move, and Simon, if left alone, could fall vulnerable to reporters. By whisking him away, they all get what they want. She, the illusion that this was intended all along; he, more time with Simon, to make up for all the days that fear and hurt kept them apart.

Finally, finally, after the long car ride, and a tense private discussion with his parents, and an endless meeting with the royal court, Wilhelm is released. Finding Simon in his room, he smiles. For the first time since Erik died, the palace doesn't feel too huge around him. He approaches him wordlessly, just gathering up this moment: Simon borrowing his sweater, breathing it in, as in love with Wilhelm as he is with him.

When he's caught watching, he laughs for the sheepishness that crawls across Simon's face. His hands find Simon's waist, and no reason not to touch him. Teasing, he tugs at the hem of the commandeered sweater. That's when Simon says boyfriends, and Wilhelm looks at him like it's the most brilliant thing he's ever heard. Like the word never meant anything until those lips shaped it.]

My boyfriend, Simon.

[He tries it out the same way Simon tries out his clothes. With a smile that gives away his answer, he cups Simon's face in his hands. His fingers stretch into the curls behind his ears, stroking gently.]

Yeah, I want that. Definitely.

Boyfriend Wille.

( as much a title, it seems, as crown prince. something feels intrinsically changed upon hearing wilhelm claim him though, and simon flattens lean fingers against his chest before hooking them around his waist, drawing him into a hug. for some reason, it always feel more passionate than a kiss between them — dropping his head down on wille's shoulder and breathing in the vague scent of his soap on his clothes, something rich and cashmere, drawing his lips against the small bit of skin between shoulder and neck. his fingers draw lazy, cursive figures against his spine, thinking that every moment when his hands are on wille is so amazingly peaceful, that anything could be going on outside the four walls of wille's bedroom, and simon wouldn't bat an eyelash.

after a beat he snorts a laugh, pulling his head back enough to nip at his jaw. )

That's a relief, since everyone already thinks that. ( it's not a criticism — simon was already in it for the long haul with wille, committed to two years of secrets before the title of boyfriend got brought into play, so it's just ... boosting the timeline, a little. for the first time, he's not actually bothered by the media knowing his name and seeing his face plastered everywhere, because it's in it together with wilhelm, not bearing the weight alone. it doesn't feel heavy when they're together, wrapped up in each other, simon lifting on his toes to press their noses together. he grins, bright. ) No one's gonna start calling me "consort", are they?

[Wilhelm likes this new title better than crown prince. He hasn't yet thought about the mantle he's taken up, of being the first openly queer heir to a throne. He hasn't yet considered all the good for which he could leverage his power and position. All he's thinking about is the boy now enclosed in his arms. How their bodies just belong together, fitting as naturally as the jagged edges of something once broken in half, and how much he wants to kiss him, touch him, breathe him. He could stay with his nose buried in Simon's curls forever.

A sigh, soft as snow falling down, slips from his lips as Simon brushes a kiss against the base of his neck. His hands sneak under the hem of his shirt to trace patterns into the small of his back, like they're exchanging messages in a secret code that only they know. Even when Simon lifts his head to speak, Wilhelm continues the other conversation against his skin.]

God, I hope not. [He wrinkles his nose, laughing.] It sounds so... Like, your only purpose in life is to hang off of my arm.

[There's a part of him that wants to ask him, for at least the third time today, are you sure you're okay with being all over the tabloids again? But Simon is smiling his beautiful smile, and it feels like everything might be okay for once. They've earned this moment of peace.]

Your official title is 'royal boyfriend and actual angel'.

[And they're earned this kiss, too, soft and sweet but with the weight of the ocean behind it.]

Edited 2023-07-18 22:55 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?

deleted scene from episode 5

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😇

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it's me