haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?

[ordinar]

wilmon cum sock

CW: dumb underage kids fucking

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[poverty]

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?

it's me

[ordinar]

[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.]