Chapter Text
Simon peeled his eyes open slowly, barely daring to believe that his memory wasn’t fooling him. Scenes from last night — or what he hoped was last night, and not a feverish dream — swam through his mind: Wilhelm high on the football field; Wilhelm leaning against him as Simon walked him home (and tried desperately to ignore the electricity sparking where their bodies pressed together); Wilhelm waking up in the night asking to be held, to... oh. Blush crept across Simon’s cheeks as he remembered what had happened next (at this point he was certain it was memory... or an embarrassingly rogue imagination) — Wilhelm’s lips against his, his body flush against his, his hands everywhere, intoxicating. Simon felt his breath shudder at the thought.
“Simon? Are you awake?” A voice said quietly, and he opened his eyes fully, a relieved and excited jolt passing through him as he took in the sight of Wilhelm looking down at him, sheets tangled around his torso, floppy blonde hair messy from sleep, something sparkling in his eyes as he took in Simon, whose curls were splayed across the pillow as he lay next to him.
“Yeah,” Simon replied hoarsely, laughing slightly at his morning voice. A smile bloomed across his face, and he shuffled over to rest his head in Wille’s lap, groaning due to both sleepiness, and the proper dawn of realisation that it had been real. Last night had been real.
He covered his face with his hands. “Oh my God,” he groaned, half-thrilled, half-embarrassed. “I fucked the crown prince.”
A wicked laugh escaped Wille, and he peeled Simon’s hands away, looking down at the beautiful boy with his head in his lap. “Well technically, I—“
“Shut up!” Simon’s cheeks were definitely red now.
It was both the most gorgeous, and hottest, thing Wille had ever seen.
He moved, Simon’s head falling out of his lap and back onto the pillow, then hovered above him, faces almost touching. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered, and a shudder went through Simon as he nodded. Wille leaned in to kiss him, initial gentleness giving way to passion, hand flat against Simon’s chest and moving down, down, down. Simon let out a gasp when he suddenly stopped, grabbing his hands instead and pinning them above his head. The boy gasped into the kiss, and Wille smirked against his lips before drawing away.
He took in the beautiful boy below him for a second — the ripples of muscle below dark skin, the curls of dark hair splayed on the pillow, the wideness of his eyes, blown open with lust. Wille stared at him, the tension palpable, and bit his lip before lowering his hips to brush against Simon’s own.
The sound that escaped the boy’s mouth was heavenly.
So Wille did it again.
And again, and again, until Simon was a mess underneath him, breathing heavily with his eyes pressed closed.
He let go of his hands, and Simon’s eyes flickered open, taking in Wille hungrily, but with desperation in his expression. Wille felt his heart flutter at how lucky he was to have such a gorgeous boy at his mercy, and the urge to kiss him took over, so he leaned down and captured the other boy’s lips. This time, when his hands pressed against Simon’s chest, dragging almost painfully slowly downwards, they didn’t stop, and Wile broke away from the kiss to hear the sigh that escaped him as his hand found his underwear. He began to move, rubbing and stroking and clenching with a torturously slow pace as Simon shuddered with pleasure. A groan escaped him, breath hitching as he re-gathered the ability to speak. “Wille,” he moaned, and a jolt went through the prince at that. “Hurry up, please, more—“ and then he descended into Spanish.
That made Wilhelm moan, and he picked up the pace as requested, Simon losing control of his voice again as he groaned and sighed and bucked his hips, desperate for release. When it came, his moan was exquisite, and Wilhelm felt his own release coming too. He gasped as it shot through him, then all but collapsed on Simon’s chest as the energy sapped from his body.
The room was silent for a second, and Wille suddenly thought to feel sorry for the guards outside, if they were paying enough attention or standing close enough to hear. “I wonder how thin these walls are,” he said, giggling slightly with a satisfied smirk as he raised his head to gaze at Simon’s blissed-out face, a humorous grin lazily stretching across his features too. “I suppose I should be embarrassed,” he said, “but right now I can’t bring myself to care, your highness.”
Wille groaned, pressing his face against Simon’s chest. “If you keep saying that, my mind is going to be in the gutter every time someone addresses me.” He muttered against the other boys’s skin. He couldn’t see his face, but was almost certain Simon was the one smirking now as he replied. “Well, maybe that’s the intention, your highness.”
Wille’s energy resurged for a moment — long enough to sit up again, tangle his fingers in Simon’s hair, and appreciate the rekindling lust in his eyes as he curled his fingers, causing a sharp intake of breath from Simon as he tugged it a little, tilting his face to look at him.
“I’m the goddamn prince, Simon. And you are mine. Mine.” He didn’t know what had come over him, but after cursing his position for most of his life, he had never imagined the rush that the authority would give him in this circumstance. He pressed his lips to Simon’s in a crushing kiss, the response just as eager, and a spark lit in the back of his mind.
“You like that, hmm? You like being reminded that you’re the Crown Prince’s little bitch?”
“Oh God, Wilhelm, your majesty—” Simon gasped as fingers tugged at his hair again, lost in the moment as the implications of that status fell away and left only a hot coil of tension in his stomach.
Only to be reminded, starkly, of what it did entail.
“Wilhelm? I must remind the Crown Prince that breakfast closes in ten minutes!” The guard called from outside, and the boy in question broke away from Simon, looking up towards the door, before his eyes flickered back to Simon’s. He licked his lips, before capturing his in a breathtaking kiss again, then drawing away as soon as he’d started — and getting up entirely, reaching for the clothes over the back of his chair. “I’ll be down soon!” He called.
Simon watched as he got dressed, mind hazy with the morning’s events. Clarity suddenly came, though, when Wilhelm started putting his shoes on, shooting a wicked grin at him.
“Wille!” He hissed, sitting up, the covers bunching around his hips. “What am I supposed to do?”
There was a mischievous sparkle in the prince’s eye as he took in the frankly obscene sight of the boy in his bed, almost naked, hair messy and cheeks flushed from their, ah, activities. He grabbed some clothes from his wardrobe and tossed them over to the bed.
“The guards will follow me down. Get dressed, and you can come to class after me. I’ll grab you some breakfast.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Simon’s mouth, but quickly turned into a frown as he unfolded the clothes. “Uh... won’t people recognise that this is, y’know, your jumper?”
Wille just grinned evilly.
“I’m counting on it.”
And with that, he left for breakfast.