( 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.
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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.