[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.]
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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.]