Hi Simon! could you please do prompt #40 ☺️
Hiii!!! Thank you so much for sending me this smut prompt, thank you for waiting!! (and sorry for making you wait) 💜💜💜
So... ever since Roo @sobadbad posted this (not quite wilmon but in spirit) shower scene gif set I've been thinking about this. I give you: Shower scene wilmon! FWB wilmon!
I hope you enjoy 💜
cw: nsfw
Read below or on AO3
Simon lets out an unceremonious yelp when his naked back connects with the cool shower tiles. He has half a mind to complain, but Wille is already on him, warm and broad and damp, half sweat, half wayward sputtering from the shower spray. And all hungry mouth, quickly swallowing Simon’s complaints, all hungry hands, slipping between the wall and Simon’s body, making it better, making it good. Simon can’t help but smile into the kiss, even through the moan that’s punched out of him when Wille fully slots his body against Simon’s. Even when they’re so horny they’re forgetting themselves, Wille knows just what to do. Knows how to angle them in the small stall, so they can keep making out, unhindered by water rushing down and fogging up the air they’re sucking in, in between kisses.
They're not usually reckless like this. Their moments of… this, of them crashing together, of working out the daily stresses, of channelling every bit of frustration and maybe some loneliness, at least on Simon’s part, of seeking out comfort and companionship and relief and fun; they usually happen neatly hidden away. In Wille's dorm room, curtains drawn, after classes, or Simon's bedroom, when Wille gets granted a rare Saturday off the Hillerska premises. There’s a clear distinction between the them that’s for public spaces, that’s okay for others to see, that’s look and feels a lot like comfortable acquaintanceship, timid friendship, steadily growing less and less timid as time went on, and this. This them, that’s hot tongues and fingernails digging into backs and bodies moving like it’s everything they’ve ever done, and beautiful needy sounds that Simon feels secretly possessive over.
But today is... different. Today feels decidedly out of the ordinary, feels like they’ve lost their scrips and rewritten their roles. And Simon doesn’t think he’s ever wanted Wille quite this badly.
Simon could've predicted it, has felt an unnerving kind of crackling between them all throughout their training session. Every time their fingers brushed on the barbell bar and Wille seemingly leaned into the touch, whenever Simon sat down on the rowing machine, Wille's hand burning through the thin fabric of his shirt where it was pressed against the small of his back.
An unspoken understanding between them, silently agreeing to take their time cleaning up the gym afterwards, with their teammates slowly filing out through the door. A foreboding heaviness settling deep in the pit of Simon’s stomach when they rolled the parallel bars back into the storage space, exchanging looks and smiles and inaudible promises.
Their joint relief upon walking into the locker room with deliberately slowed steps, a mischievous glance exchanged when they found it already almost deserted, their slow stripping, backs turned, while they waited out their last teammates leaving.
Simon moans against Wille’s tongue, fingers finding their way into his damp hair. It's like the tension is worse today, like even the feeling of Wille's skin, glorious and naked and warm and more and more slick with water, pressing against his isn't enough to take off the edge. The normally impermeable wall between the Simon that gets to have and gets to want Wille like this, and the version of him that nods and smiles and jokes like he doesn’t know what Wille’s body feels like under his, is gone and long forgotten. A ludicrous thought crosses Simon’s mind, unfounded and yet hard to ignore. In this very moment, Simon isn’t even sure anymore if the wall ever really existed.
Wille breaks away and Simon scrambles to pull him in again, but Wille moves his lips down Simon’s cheek and towards his ear.
“You looked so hot out there,” he breathes, in this voice that Simon deludes himself is reserved for him alone. He only tightens his grip on Wille’s hair.
“Yeah?”
It’s half a laugh, half a breathy plea for Wille to double down.
They don’t do this. Wille doesn’t hold back on compliments, of course not, he’s quick to compliment Simon’s singing, his song lyrics, his good essays. But that’s the other Wille, not the one that’s-
“Fuck,” Simon drops his head against Wille’s shoulder when Wille wraps a hand around his cock, sliding easily with warm water running down his arm.
The Wille who knows how to stroke Simon to full hardness in a few seconds, the one that looks so so so pretty on his knees with Simon in his mouth, is not the Wille that gives his friend compliments. They don’t do this.
“So hot,” Wille adds, and peppers a line of kisses down the side of Simon’s neck. Simon only gasps. He desperately tries to buck his hips into Wille’s touch, but remains firmly pinned against the tiles by Wille leaning his weight on Simon’s thigh. And as if Simon isn’t already losing his mind a little, as if their kissing and grinding and touching out here and the heated air of the shower isn’t already making him feel lightheaded enough, Wille goes on.
“You always look so good…,” he mumbles, quiet and dampened by Simon’s skin, but still painfully clear to his ears. A sudden rush of heat has Simon trembling.
He only hums, unsure what the fuck else he’s supposed to do. Unsure what the fuck changed and why he so desperately needs Wille to mean it, needs both Willes to mean it.
But his body has its own mind, muscle memory tiding him over the confusing rush inside of his head. His hand easily finds its way down Wille’s body, palm sliding over slick skin and the firm muscles underneath, over Wille’s soft belly, sucked in with a quiet breath. Just as he feels the coarse hair against his fingertips, Wille wraps his fingers around his wrist, moving him further down.
“Need you,” Wille whispers between kisses, and Simon lets out a desperate sound when Wille runs the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock on a downstroke.
“Me too,” he replies, too loud maybe, and takes Wille into his hand.
So badly, he thinks, allowing himself a moment to revel in the weight of Wille’s cock in his hand, the soft, soft skin, the heat, the sparks rushing through his belly at every single one of Wille’s movements. Wille’s grip on his wrist tightens when Simon starts to move.
Wille’s strokes falter, he interrupts himself with a beautiful, wonderful, moan that… Simon’s cheeks heat up, head spinning, when he recognizes his name in the sound.
At once, everything else is forgotten, everything about who they are or what they aren’t, any limits to what this can be, every silly rule he’s ever tried to put in place for himself. Simon wants to make Wille falls apart, he wants to see it, wants to hear it, wants to feel it, wants to wash him clean afterwards, wants Wille to slump his tired, exhausted body against his, he wants-
A loud clatter towards the other end of the room startles them apart. Simon freezes, gears in his head turning and, horrifyingly, identifying the sound as the door being pushed open.
Too good to be true, it was all too fucking good to be true. He shouldn’t have dared to hope they could get away with this, could get away with something as stupid, as reckless, as fucking idiotic…
He hears steps slowly approaching. Then, a loud call of Wille’s name.
Strangely enough, Wille crowds closer against Simon, doesn’t let go of him. As if he could shield Simon from whoever is going to find them. As if that wouldn’t make a difficult to explain situation even worse. There’s no use hiding, Simon wants to say. Not with the water running, not with them staying back.
“What’s taking you so long?” the voice, Simon thinks it might be Henry, calls out. “Hurry up!”
So that must mean…
Twisting his head around, Wille answers.
“Coming!” he yells.
Simon’s body is quicker than his mind, snickering at the word choice. Before he can stop himself, Wille already firmly clasps a hand over his mouth.
That’s… Something.
Pinned against the tiles, one of Wille’s hands on his mouth, the other still on his cock - Simon swallows hard against the tightness in his throat.
Wille’s eyes dart from his hand on Simon’s mouth up to Simon’s eyes and down again, seemingly equally affected.
A second passes before he seems to shake himself out of it.
“Just… you can leave without me,” he yells, without really turning his head. “I’ll join later.”
A longer stretch of silence gives Simon just enough time to panic again, rattle his brain for excuses, explanations, something to justify why they’re crammed in a stall in the community showers, hands in compromising positions, lips and cheeks pink.
At the sound of more steps, Simon’s stomach drops, but he quickly realized that it worked, that Henry is walking away.
He waits until the door closes again, equally loud and startling sound, but so, so relieving this time around. As soon as he thinks the coast is clear, Wille drops his hand, apology somewhere in the unsteady look of his eyes. And as soon as Simon’s heart has slowed, is no longer hammering pressure against his temples, he lets out a laugh, loud and unguarded.
“Coming,” Simon mocks, still incredulous that it worked and squeezes Wille’s cock just to watch Wille’s eyes roll back and falls closed.
“Leave without me,” he tries again, now fully laughing, and Wille presses closer, traps both of their arms between their bodies. He lets out a long groan that sounds like frustration and embarrassment. And it’s so, so endearing.
This is Simon’s friend Wille, the one that jokes with him during lunch breaks. Except it’s also the Wille that softly kisses Simon’s shoulder. And has never once let go of his cock.
“Sorry,” Wille mumbles, this one almost too quiet to hear over the water rushing. “I forgot they wanted to go out for pizza…” He sounds embarrassed still, and regretful as well.
Simon swallows. He’s used to this. He knows it’s what they do, the boarders, spend time together, one way or another. He knows he’s not one of them, will never be one of them, frankly, doesn’t fucking want to, not one bit. And apparently, sometimes, like just now, his being essentially invisible to them can pay off. But there’s no downplaying the tiny, miniscule sting that always comes when it’s time for Wille to put on his public self again, the one that hangs out with his peers, without Simon. It’s a stupid, ridiculous, selfish thought to have, Simon knows that. They’ve laid done these implicit rules, this barrier between Simon and Wille who make out and fuck, and Simon and Wille who talk at school, but then go their separate ways. So he clears his throat, plastering on a hopefully casual smile.
“Guess we should finish up quickly, then, huh,” he suggests when Wille’s head comes up again, when Wille takes a tiny step back, reintroducing space between them. Simon hopes his tone is as light as he intended.
But Wille looks… strange. Wistful, maybe. Nothing like his hungry, wonderful, smiley earlier self. Simon’s eyes catch on his mouth, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth.
“Don’t wanna go with them.”
Wille’s hands are gone suddenly, leaving Simon bereft for all but a moment before Wille is skating them over Simon’s sides instead, slowly moving up and down, as if to soothe Simon, or maybe himself.
“You don’t?”
Simon vaguely knows that Wille gets annoyed with the guys sometimes, but he’s been under the impression that, despite it all, they’re friends. Maybe better friends than Simon and Wille are, even if the sex is blurring the lines and making things seem more meaningful than they probably are.
But Wille is shaking his head, avoiding Simon’s eyes to instead watch his hands mover over Simon’s body. There’s something he isn’t saying, Simon can tell. And so he mirrors Wille’s movements, regretfully lets go of him to instead let his palms slide over Wille’s soft skin.
Wille has so many moles on his body, Simon would think it’s funny if he wasn’t so helplessly attracted to them, the way they look like constellations that are meant to be traced. Slowly, Simon brushed his thumb over Wille’s nipple, just because he can, because he wants to seize the opportunity of having Wille naked like this in front of him.
Wille sucks in a sharp breath. But the way he grabs Simon just the tiniest bit more tightly is reassuring.
“I, I meant to ask,” Wille clears his throat, just as Simon lifts his eyes again. There’s a charming red tint to his face and his neck. Simon wonders if that’s from earlier, or if this is new.
“Meant to ask if you wanted to stay over,” he rushes out, all in one go.
Simon only blinks up at him, waiting for the words to settle in and make sense.
“What?” he starts with. “Like… in your room?”
That sounds unlikely. Because they don’t do that. Even Wille’s trips to Bjärstad don’t end in sleepovers. They very deliberately end before that, because anything else has always felt like it would warrant more of an explanation than either of them would be willing to give.
But Wille nods, slowly, looking bashful, but with the slightest smile tugging on his lips.
“Yeah?” Wille says, still not looking at Simon. “I thought we could, like, hang out maybe?”
Huh, Simon thinks.
“Huh,” he says out loud. And finally Wille meets his eyes.
There’s an earnestness there, a shyness that Simon isn’t used to. It’s disarming, it’s wonderful, it makes his insides tickle with a strange feeling.
When Wille doesn’t say anything else, just raises a hand to Simon’s forehead, brushing a clumped up, wet curl out of his face, Simon leans into the touch with a smile.
“Would love to,” he says and gets to watch in real time how a grin spreads out on Wille’s face.
“Cool,” Wille says, and Simon feels anything but cool. But he nods. And tilts his head back when Wille steps closer and captures his mouth in a slow kiss that feels… new… different. Promising.
When they break apart, Simon becomes aware of just how close they’re standing again. Carefully, he pushes his hips forwards, carefully presses his weight against where they’re both half hard. Because, with this new thing, he’s just not sure if this is the them that’s happening today. Wille makes a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. His arms move around Simon’s back again, warm and wet and comforting.
“So beautiful,” Wille mumbles, and it’s a punch to Simon’s stomach.
So… maybe…
He doesn’t get to ask, because Wille is loosening his grip and turning away.
“Can I wash you?” Wille asks instead and Simon feels another new flutter in his chest. After his nod, Wille reaches for his body wash, the one that smells stupidly expensive, the one that is intrinsically linked to Wille in Simon’s mind, cedar wood and vanilla, and starts lathering up Simon’s shoulders, his arms, his chest.
Simon isn’t used to this, to the feeling of someone else washing him, but he sighs, eventually giving in to his eyelids falling closed as he relishes the feeling of Wille’s hands on him. He sighs, lifts his arms up for Wille to lather up his pits, hums happily when Wille brushes his hands down over his thighs and the outside of his legs.
“Nice,” he says quietly, it’s out before he thinks about, but when he opens his eyes to check if it’s okay Wille is nodding, sending him a smile.
After a short moment of hesitation, Wille runs his soapy hand over Simon’s flaccid cock, a little lower to get to his balls. It’s not enough to bring him back again, not yet, but there’s a warm little flush to his lower body, especially when Simon looks down on himself, watching Wille’s hand on him.
Once he’s done, he pulls Simon closer, wraps his arms around him in a hug that has some of the body wash rubbing off on Wille. Simon is about to make a joke, something about Wille not daring to think he can get away with some flimsy second-hand soap after training with weights, but then Simon feels Wille’s hands settle on top of his ass. Wille hesitates. Simon sucks in a long breath.
“May I?” Wille asks then, and traces the curve of Simon’s ass cheek with a single finger.
Simon nods desperately. Oh god.
The Wille that has asked him to hang out is also the Wille that is asking if he can wash Simon’s ass for him.
“Yeah,” the breathes quietly, widening his stance for Wille to have better access.
When he finally feels Wille’s soapy finger slip between his cheeks, he keens. Wille is moving carefully, but he knows what he’s doing, knows because he knows Simon’s body, even if this is entirely new. He’s so gentle with it, really taking his time as he’s rubbing his finger over Simon’s hole. He’s holding him open with one hand, kissing the shoulder he’s looking over in between his movements, letting Simon claw his fingers into his back. When he breaches the rim, Simon lets out a broken little sound, but stays put, lets Wille clean him. For himself, for later, for the both of them. Simon shivers in Wille’s arms.
“Okay?”
Simon nods, unable to make another sound. He’s hard again, or most of the way there, feels like his entire back is covered in goose bumps.
This is so far from the usual fervor and the rush of them having sex, so far from the giggling hurried hand jobs and from hidden away blow jobs he’s had to bite his hand through to stay silent. This is Wille, one of them, all of them, taking his time, touching Simon slowly and intimately, before they’re going to make their way across the premises, together, towards Wille’s room. Where he wants him to stay.
When Wille turns his head again, slowly, almost apologetically pulling out of Simon, their lips crash together once again. And it’s a promise.
Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here
also pls let me know what you think <3