[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.
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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.