As Jesper sheds his clothes, Wilhelm coasts his hands all over his body, following the now familiar paths of shoulders and spine, hips and thighs, chest and stomach, trailing off to give his cock a little tug. He traces each tattoo like it's a good luck charm. His lips part for Jesper, and his whole body moves to the rhythm of their kiss, back arching to press their chests together, hips rolling upward. He likes this part, where it feels like they've jumped off of something and they're just tumbling through the air together. The ground is a long way off.

Well, to be honest, he likes every part of sex with Jesper. It's easy, fun, like having a laugh with a friend, only you're both naked and all over each other. He feels like he can be himself. A version of himself he likes better, more carefree and confident — borrowing both from Jesper.

Wilhelm scrunches his nose as Jesper kisses it, laughs as he wiggles his eyebrows. He gets in one good retaliatory squeeze of his ass before his hand gets plucked away. Playing the role of student, he watches raptly as Jesper slicks his fingers with the contents of the bottle, something cool and slippery. Under Jesper's guidance, he finds the tight ring of muscle marking his entrance. He almost forgets to breathe, the intimacy of this moment gathers so thickly and palpably around him.

"I have some idea," he murmurs, biting his lower lip. Contemplatively, he strokes a finger across Jesper's entrance. He's not the one getting coaxed open, but being that he's new to this, he does need some time to get used to the feeling. "This okay?"

Measuring Jesper's response, he applies a little more pressure to his stroking. With his other hand splayed over Jesper's thigh, he soothes and pets.