Wilhelm felt Simon clinging to his hand, their fingers interlocked with one another. It warmed his otherwise frigid skin, and that warmth spread all the way up his arm to his rapidly beating heart. He could barely hear anything over the pounding, except for Simon's breaths, steady and soft like a comforting blanket. Wilhelm's entire focus was situated on Simon, of course, watching his every movement without caring where he was being led. Simon's dark curls were bouncing as he loped down the hallway, the fluorescent lighting making the ends look like obsidian. His speedy walk pushed his clothes around, sometimes showing patches of sepia skin peeking through to draw in Wilhelm's attention before disappearing behind the folds of his clothes.

Wilhelm closed his eyes, allowing the image of Simon to burn into his mind as another sense took their turn to fill in the blanks. Simon smelled like cinnamon, Wilhelm decided, the kind that had already been baked into a cookie waiting to cool off for consumption. He wondered if Simon would taste like a freshly baked cookie. The thought should have embarrassed him, but his face was not the thing heating up. The idea that someone could see him right now frightened him a little, but his mind was gone too far for him to really care about that sort of scenario. He was preoccupied with wondering how he was ever supposed to get the scent of cinnamon cookies out of his nose and the sound of soothing breaths out of his ears or the feverish heat from climbing up from their intertwined hands into his heart and further down.

Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that his thoughts were consumed with how to get even more of these sensations.

Wilhelm's days were spent wishing he could be normal. It was spent wishing that he could be himself, or maybe figure out who that was, without worrying about how people saw him or his family. He didn't necessarily want to be a geeky kid awkwardly trying to find his place in the world, but he wanted the opportunity. It was a naive hope that only hurt him, but it was the only want he ever truly possessed. He wanted his family's love and respect, and he wanted to be normal.

He couldn't deny that now, maybe for the single moment or maybe longer, he wanted Simon. It ran deeper than a surface-level lust, but he couldn't see how to satisfy his greed without embracing their bodies so close together that beginning and end were senseless words without a definition. He wanted to know every thought inside Simon's head, to test them out against his own opinions and feel the weight of the unsaid words on his tongue. He wanted to know everything Simon felt, to experience the sensations rolling around his heart and pressing against his skin. He needed it more than a simple want, and he wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to get there. How does someone become so intertwined with the object of their adoration that they find themselves part of the object?

"In here," Simon whispered like a secret, letting himself get pulled into a random room selected from the dozens of doors lining the hallway. Wilhelm bristled at the words. Wilhelm knew they were a secret. They had to be. Wilhelm had disappointed his family enough, and no amount of stars in the sky would ever grant his wish for him to be a normal boy figuring out why exactly he wanted this other boy to stand in his arms until they both couldn't stand any longer. He knew, too, that Simon didn't want them to be a secret, either. Simon wasn't exactly the normal Wilhelm wished to be, but he was, in most ways, a normal person with an average family. Simon wanted to tell his mother and sister, maybe even his father, about Wilhelm. Simon wanted to tell all his friends. He wanted to tell the whole school. A possessive part of Wilhelm that he didn't know he had because he was never allowed to cultivate it needed that just as much. Simon was his, and Wilhelm hoped that Simon claimed him as his.

"We don't have long," Simon admitted, leaning against the wall. He turned to face Wilhelm. All the words ready to spill from Wilhelm's anxious lips were silenced when Simon's umber eyes looked at him. The eyes were beautiful. They were deep and shimmering like smokey quartz. Wilhelm had been lucky enough to see the gemstones carefully placed in Simon's head lit up like brown Christmas lights when he was excited, or how they seemed silkier when he was singing in front of a captivated crowd. Now, however, Wilhelm was lucky enough to watch as these eyes were buzzing with an emotion Wilhelm hoped would never look at anyone else. It was more than lust or love. It was a combination of both smoothed out over burning coals. It was like melting chocolate.

Wilhelm leaned forward, pressing their lips together. There was still some hesitance, but he didn't back away immediately like he did at the movie party. He kept their faces together, trying to capture the elusive taste of cinnamon or chocolate. Surprisingly, Simon's lips tasted like neither. It wasn't a taste Wilhelm was familiar with, but he wouldn't mind becoming acquainted with it. Truly, it could become his new favorite flavor. A mix of sweet and savory, a smidge of exotic spice and salt, not a trace of sourness or bitterness. It was perfect in the sense that Wilhelm would immediately forgive any perceived imperfection.

Wilhelm wrapped his arms around Simon's waist, pulling him closer. The warmth assaulted his entire body, but he couldn't pull himself away even with the fear of burning. He would remain beneath the overwhelming pleasurable pain until Simon pushed him away or the world dragged him. For the moment, Simon merely pulled him impossibly closer, his arms wrapping around Wilhelm's neck to bring them together.

A soft exhale, perhaps a sigh or merely a breath, escaped their kiss from Simon's mouth. It was enough of an opening that Wilhelm went right in with his tongue. Simon's body squirmed beneath Wilhelm's hold, but there wasn't any indication that Simon was uncomfortable. If anything, the way he opened his mouth further was proof that he wanted Wilhelm's tongue there. It did present the interesting question of why Simon was beginning to tremble, but Wilhelm's brain was done with computing. It only wanted to intake and process sensory stimuli.

Simon was providing more than enough stimulation. His body naturally ran hot, and now it felt like he was possessed by a fever spirit. His arms slid forward and back as he shook, the tender skin rubbing Wilhelm's neck. His hands found the hair on the back of Wilhelm's head, pulling them gently to twist around his fingers. This was without mentioning how their clothes, realistically thin but lustfully thick, was the only thing separating their bodies. Wilhelm wasn't sure how he was going to survive when that simple fact was at the forefront of his mind.

Wilhelm remembers one of the last times they did something like this. He brings one of his arms up. He places his hand on Simon's neck, individually closing each finger around the warm skin. Simon's breath completely stutters, and he pushes himself up into the hold. For some unfathomable reason, Simon's neck is one of his most sensitive areas. He falls apart with the initial touch, and he begins singing in moans and pants like the lead chorister he is.

It reminds Wilhelm of playing a piano, an activity he enjoys but rarely gets to do. Each key produces a sound, and these keys are played in a certain order to make lovely music. It is the same way with Simon. His body is entirely covered in keys that produce different noises. Wilhelm was certain he was better at playing Simon's body than he was an actual piano. Each note on its own could be a ballad worthy of Mozart or Beethoven, but Wilhelm was enraptured by the symphonies Simon allowed him to play.

Wilhelm's other hand came to close around Simon's neck, and he was rewarded with a whistle-like inhale. He firmly pressed his fingers down, and Simon gave him a lower-pitched sigh paired with an accompanying high-pitched whine. Wilhelm tucked his thigh in between Simon's legs, and he felt like he was in an orchestra when Simon whimpered, squeezing his legs shut to keep Wilhelm there.

Wilhelm pulled back from their kiss, letting his eyes open so that he could see the look on Simon's face. Simon's eyes were closed, firmly with little creases running alongside his face. His lips were parted, slicked with sweet thick enough to make it look like he was wearing lip gloss. His arms had slid down, his elbows pressed against Wilhelm's chest with his fingers interlocked around Wilhelm's neck. Wilhelm brings his hand up from Simon's neck, his thumb brushing over his lips to the scar on the right side of his face and the crinkles around his eyes.

Simon smiled. He was, as far as Wilhelm could tell, the type of person who smiled easily and frequently. It was a beautiful smile, though, so Wilhelm understood why Simon was never ashamed of it. His entire face was beautiful, but somehow, the smile tied every feature together. This was the natural, shameless smile of a cunning fae, an imp residing in the forest, waiting for travelers to cross their path. Wilhelm wondered, absently, if Simon could have been a changeling. Surely, there was no human explanation for the beautiful man who was content to remain in Wilhelm's arms. It had to have been extreme luck or something supernatural that compelled Simon to fall into Wilhelm's path. Wilhelm still wasn't quite sure what made Simon stay, but he would be damned if he let Simon leave now. Maybe Wilhelm was the changeling, content to abuse his fae nature to trick Simon into being with him forevermore.

"What are you thinking about?" Simon whispered, his voice slightly hoarse as it descended into faintness. There was some exertion at the edges of the voice, an auditory consequence of him rubbing up against Wilhelm's thigh. As if Wilhelm couldn't feel the pooling heat through both of their clothes, pressing so deeply into his skin that Wilhelm was certain his muscles were tenderizing and his blood was boiling. Wilhelm wondered if Simon was aware of just how high his temperature soared and what that did to Wilhelm. The prince knew he couldn't keep the look off his face or body language, but Simon had his eyes closed and senses honed in on the leg between his own.

"You, mostly, but also about when this classroom is going to be of use. What if someone walks in?" Wilhelm breathed, anxiety rising to overtake the small places his vast horniness somehow missed. There was no straight or respectful explanation for what he was doing. He refused to explain to anyone what thoughts went through his head when Simon was in his arms. That gossip would get back to his mother or a priest, and there were absolutely no thoughts in his head right now that he would be comfortable saying to either of those figures. More than that, however, he didn't want anyone else to see Simon like this. It was his possessiveness demanding that he keep these beautiful looks and the inhuman heat all to himself. Why should anyone else get the privilege of seeing a voluptuary Simon? It was a gift as much as a right to see this, and Wilhelm was content being the only one to earn this (though he still wasn't sure how).

"Is Wille scared?" Simon teased, his voice lilting and airy as he spoke. Wilhelm could tell that Simon was getting lost, his rationality deserting him in favor of focusing on pleasure. Wilhelm envied his companion, but then again, without his thoughts, how was he supposed to appreciate Simon? He didn't have enough words to fully explain just how the brunette made him feel, but he was willing to use every single word he did now to paint a picture worthy of Stockholm Palace. Simon deserved nothing less. He deserved much more, honestly.

"Shh," Wilhelm shushed him with a laugh positioned right at the base of his throat. He was trying to keep quiet to make certain that no one walked in on them. It was embarrassing enough that his guard was probably stationed right outside the door. Wilhelm would probably have to petition for her to be given a raise. After he dealt with the way Simon had buried his face in Wilhelm's shoulder. He was breathing heavily, and he was shaking more than a leaf in a wild storm. Wilhelm felt something entirely human break inside him like shattering glass. All that was left was something primal, something inherited not from his forefathers but from the world itself. It was ancient and new, overwhelming and deficient, strange and natural.

Wilhelm leaned down to blow against Simon's neck, relishing in the compulsions this new feeling gave him. Simon's arms straightened out around Wilhelm's neck like he was stretching, and his legs clamped so tightly together that Wilhelm was almost in pain. A breathy moan tore from his mouth as another noise filled the air. A squelching noise that would have made anyone who fancied themselves civilized turn their nose up in disgust, but a sound that satiated the incessant urge inside his body. Simon inhaled and exhaled quickly and sharply as his entire body forcibly relaxed. Wilhelm, unused to heavy weights, lowered them both to the ground until they were on their knees. Simon leaned back, desperately clinging to Wilhelm to keep him upright. He smiled once more at Wilhelm, his eyes halfway open. "I need a change of pants."

Wilhelm couldn't hold back his laughter. Simon's smile grew brighter as he listened to the noise. Wilhelm pressed his forehead against Simon's, keeping him close even as he felt a wet spot start to dampen his own pants leg. For once in his life, Wilhelm felt something inside him click into place. The world was okay because he was happy. He was happier than he ever thought he could be, especially with someone that wasn't his family. Simon was still here. No matter how anxious or stupid Wilhelm got, Simon was sitting in his arms wearing a vivid smile and dazzling enstatite eyes. He was laughing, and so was Simon, and they were okay. They were more than okay. They were as close to perfect as any human relationship was ever going to get. Nothing else mattered, not the royal family or the school or social conventions. If it was Wilhelm and Simon, they were perfect.