Chapter Text
It's Wilhelm who goes back in, indelicately pressing his lips to Simon's as if yanked forward by a string. Simon is trembling, breathing fast through his nostrils. He's making a valiant effort to throw everything he has into the kiss. Wilhelm doesn't quite return it - his lips are mostly still, and Simon can practically hear the gears turning in his head. Occasional shrieks and curses from upstairs cut through the room, ratcheting the tension Simon feels in every muscle in his body. Suddenly it becomes too much, and he tears himself away from Wilhelm and speeds down the hallway to the front door. If he moves quickly enough, maybe he can forget this ever happened. He makes it to the front lawn when he hears someone behind him.
"Simon!" It's Wilhelm's voice, sounding more desperate than Simon's ever heard it. Desperate to rebuff him or end their friendship (or both), maybe. Simon stills, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry," he says. He hasn't turned around, but he can feel Wilhelm's presence close behind him. It's like a tangible thing, and he briefly sways backwards towards it before planting his feet more firmly in the grass. He opens his mouth to apologize again, but before he can speak Wilhelm's hands grip his shoulders and turn him around, and Wilhelm crashes his mouth against his with a force that's almost painful. Simon loses his balance. His hands search for something to hold on to and settle for the front of Wilhelm's shirt, and Wilhelm's arms snake around Simon's lower back, nearly bending him in half. At first Simon can't respond - his brain is scrambling to keep up with the moment, and he's so surprised that his eyes are still open wide. He can see the creases of Wilhelm's eyelids, shut tight in concentration.
Then Wilhelm's tongue is in his mouth, and he's here.
His entire body arches forward. His left hand slides up from Wilhelm's shirt and into his hair. All of the pent-up longing, all of the glances, all of the times Wilhelm has touched him surge through him in this moment, a wave of feeling that starts from his stomach and rushes up into his throat until he has no choice but to moan into Wilhelm's mouth.
"God," he says when he comes up to breathe, but Wilhelm won't let him say more. They stumble backwards until Simon can feel something rough against his back - he gathers from the grooves and edges digging into his skin that it's a tree trunk. Wilhelm pins him against it, crowding him until they are chest to chest, knees banging together until Wilhelm slips a leg between his. It's clumsy and rough and fast and Simon is on fire.
Wilhelm catches Simon's lower lip between teeth, tugging until Simon gasps in pain. The feeling goes straight to his cock. Both of Simon's hands are in Wilhelm's hair, holding the back of his head to keep him right where he is. The pace goes from frantic to something that's steady, sensuous. Wilhelm kisses into his mouth again, and Simon opens his lips and moans when their tongues touch. He's so hard, and he knows that Wilhelm has to feel it against his hip. He makes a half-hearted attempt to pull back, but he's stuck against the tree and Wilhelm has caged him in. His left hand comes down to push lightly against Wilhelm's chest, and he can feel the heart hammering underneath it.
Wilhelm immediately stops and steps backward, his cheeks flushed. They're both breathing hard, but each of Wilhelm's inhales sounds shaky, panicky. He brings a hand up to his own chest and rubs back and forth in a way that Simon can tell is both involuntary and painful.
"Wille," he whispers, but Wilhelm looks like he's about to turn away. "Please." He reaches out his hand, not moving from the tree. Wilhelm eyes it like it's a snake that may or may not be venomous. His eyes are wide and fixated on Simon's outstretched fingers. Simon wonders if Wilhelm was even aware of coming after him and kissing him, or if he's just putting the pieces together now. Simon can feel the places where the wood dug until his shoulder blades. His breathing calms, but Wilhelm is still dragging in air in gulps.
"Please," he repeats. He sees Wilhelm thinking it through, though what exactly the thoughts entail escapes him. He realizes with a pang of regret that he barely knows this boy, save a handful of tentative conversations. It dislodges something in his chest, and his expression must change because Wilhelm tilts toward him with a look of uncertainty. Simon nods softly, and it's enough for Wilhelm to close a bit of the distance. He takes Simon's outstretched hand. They both stare at the clasp of their fingers. Simon runs his thumb over Wilhelm's palm, and Wilhelm exhales shakily. Simon nods again, and they both close their eyes as their lips meet, this time deliberately, slowly. Simon's breath hitches when Wilhelm runs his hand through his curls, pulling him close. Now he knows that Wilhelm can feel how hard he is. It takes every ounce of his control to keep his hips still - then Wilhelm starts to rock against him, and that's all she wrote. Simon bucks into him, and he loses track of Wilhelm's hands as they flutter over his shoulders, his hips, his ass. He rips his mouth away to breathe and Wilhelm wastes no time in latching his teeth to Simon's neck, biting down until Simon is whimpering under his mouth. "Fuck," says Simon, and for the first time since they arrived here Wilhelm replies.
"I'm not supposed to do this," he says breathlessly. It drives a knot into Simon's chest, even as he urges his hips forward.
"Come on," Simon gasps. Wilhelm palms him through his jeans - Simon's legs feel unsteady beneath him. He's rocking against Wilhelm's hand, and Wilhelm isn't doing anything to stop him. Simon briefly wonders if he should slow down, ask if everything's okay, but then Wilhelm is kissing him again and presses against his cock with his fingertips, and all it takes is a few quick thrusts and Simon is coming with a shout. He feels Wilhelm shudder against him, hears the sound of their breathing like rushing wind. He brushes his lips against Wilhelm's, clutching his shoulders tightly. They knock their foreheads together, and Wilhelm laughs weakly.
"God, Simon," he says. Simon nods, smiling, and captures Wilhelm's lips with a sigh. Something vibrates against his thigh, followed by the quick trills of his ringtone. It breaks through the haze enough for Simon to mutter an apology and grab the phone to look at the lock screen. Sara?
"Ja?" says Simon as he presses the phone to his ear.
"Simon. Uh. You realize we can all see you from up here, right?" For a moment he has no idea what she's talking about, then reality comes crashing back like a ton of bricks. He looks up toward the school building and sees at least a dozen members of the student body staring down at the lawn from the second floor, some with cell phones brandished. Wilhelm follows his gaze, and there's only one resounding word that fills Simon's brain in a loud crescendo as their eyes meet.
Shit.