Chapter Text
It's Christmas again, and this year it won't be nearly as lonely for either of them as it was the last year.
"Your Highness, we had some rooms prepared for Mr. Eriksson," the stewardess had told Wille, when he and Simon had approached the palace's living quarters earlier this evening.
Wille had been giving him a tour of the place that afternoon, with the intention to end it at the crown prince's suite, when they'd been approached by her and a small entourage of staff.
The kindly older woman had turned to Simon then to address him directly. "Simon, yes? Welcome to the palace. If you would please come with me, sir, I will bring you over to the guest quarters –"
Simon was looking back and forth between her and Wille questioningly, and Wilhelm said, "No need. He's staying with me, in my quarters, for the night."
"But..." The stewardess hesitated. "Your Highness, that's..."
"Svetlana," Wilhelm said, "I'm sorry. If I had known, I would've told you not to bother. But he's my boyfriend, so he's staying with me tonight, and if my mother asks you can just tell her I said that."
Honestly, they all knew about the tape. Of course he and Simon would share a bed, and there was no way they were going to pass up this chance in the palace, with the fancy canopied king-sized one in Wille's rooms.
Wilhelm's voice was firm, and he hadn't waited for an objection before he'd gripped Simon gently by the wrist, then, and tugged him straight past her and the other surprised staff towards the prince's rooms.
Simon had been invited by Wille, Kristina and Ludvig over to the palace for a Christmas dinner with all four of them. It's been nearly a year since he and Wille got together – or back together, perhaps, as Wille wasn't even sure how to define what they were back then – which was much longer than the three months or so that the queen had probably expected from them. So Kristina seemed resigned to at least get to know Simon now.
The queen had extended the invitation to Simon's mother and sister, but when she found out they already had plans – Linda had saved for a plane ticket to visit family back in Venezuela for the first time in years, and when she told them she was planning to book it for this winter holiday, Sara had brought up an offer by Felice to join her on a holiday ski trip – his mother's reaction made Wille think she had just wanted to use a holiday dinner as an opportunity to test Simon and see if he was good enough for her crown prince, her heir. And that tacking on his family had only been a courtesy.
Not that her opinion truly mattered to him, though – he was determined to stay with Simon regardless of what his parents or anyone else thought.
Once Wilhelm closes the brass handle on the huge double door behind him, they're finally completely, utterly alone.
These chambers were much more private than his dorm room at Hillerska or Simon's curtained-off bedroom next to the laundry at his house, and after dinner, he and Simon would have them blissfully to themselves for the remainder of the night.
"This is my room," Wille says. It's the same thing Simon said to him the first time Wille entered his room in the Eriksson's house.
Simon walks around the sitting room, taking his time gazing around at the fireplace in front of a sofa, the gilded décor, the painted ceiling. He rubs the petals of some flowers in a vase on a side table between his fingers, picks up a small statue, turns it in his hand to study it.
"Wow," Simon says, setting it back down and looking back at Wille. "I can't believe you live here."
"Trust me, it's really not that great," Wille says, shrugging his dark blue coat off and throwing it onto a sofa chair while ignoring the antique coat rack a few feet away. "I'd take your house and your mom any day."
Simon smiles at him with soft eyes. He hands Wille his jacket when Wille gestures for it, and then watches him lay it over the chair's arm.
"Come on," Wille says, "let me show you the bed," and they exchange smiles that both have an edge of giddiness and anticipation to them.
Inside the bedroom, Simon pulls aside the curtains to the bed's canopy, and then falls backwards onto the neatly made blankets like a starfish, staring up at the satiny sheet above him. He lets out a long deep sigh, luxuriating in the high-thread-count blankets.
Simon groans happily as he sinks into the mattress. "I've never had a bed like this before," he mumbles, as his eyes drift shut.
Wille grins. "Not bad for something we got from scamming people for welfare money, huh?"
A laugh bursts out of Simon. "Shut up," he says, smiling with his eyes still closed, although he was prepared for Wille to never stop rubbing that in his face every once in a while. He had to concede that it was only fair, with the way Wille had made him eat his words about the monarchy and the rich.
Not to mention, he was quite happy with what this particular wealthy privileged royal was doing to him these days. Part of his contentment was the fluttering in his stomach when he thought about what they were going to do with this bed later tonight.
Simon had been looking forward to sharing it with Wille ever since they got together again for real, when he realized that dating the prince meant he would probably have a chance to share his bedroom at the palace. Usually, he doesn't care about Wille's status, but it had to be more wide and comfortable than any other bed they've used before, right? (Although there were really just two, the narrow, cramped twin bed in Wille's dorm room and the old mattress in Simon's bedroom. That one broom closet in Hillerska didn't count.)
Simon hadn't considered the bathroom, though. When he goes in to use the toilet, the first thing he sees is the claw-footed white porcelain bathtub standing on four coiled golden legs at the center of the tiled floor. Off to the side, there's a waterfall shower enclosed behind panels of clear glass, an old-fashioned looking toilet, and an ornate sink.
"I see what you meant by cold and empty," Simon calls back at Wille through the doorway. The alabaster floor tiles are chilly when Simon sets his feet down on them with socks on. "This place looks antique," he goes on, "but also like no one ever uses it, somehow."
Wille sticks his head around the corner to see what Simon's doing, and then stands watching with his hand in the doorframe as Simon rinses his hands under the water falling from the cast iron faucet. "The palace staff clean it thoroughly every week. Maybe that's why."
Simon grins at him as he turns off the tap and grabs an embroidered hand towel from a nearby rack to dry his hands. "Are you saying the bathroom at my house is more homey because it's dirtier?"
"Uh..." Wille's brow creases. "Not really?" he says, then reconsiders. "No. Your bathroom isn't dirty, it just looks well-worn. Like, lived in."
The presence of Simon and his tight-knit family could be felt in every inch of their house, and it comforted Wille immensely every second he was there. Wille wants to stitch himself into it like a square of a quilt, and he felt like he was making progress on that with every new weekend he spent at the house.
It was a place of warmth and family, unlike this one, which felt as coolly formal and remote as Wille's parents.
Simon smiles. "Oh, I see what you mean." Maybe the two of them could make this room more cozy, together.
Then, "I've never seen a tub this huge before. I can't wait to lie in it with you." He looks at Wille's wrist, the one that's wrapped with Erik's watch. "How much time do we have before dinner?"
Wille stops for a second, but then turns his hand up to look at his watch. "About an hour."
"More than enough time." Simon grabs the bottom hem of his sweater in both hands and begins tugging it over his head.
"Wait – You want to take a bath now?"
"Well, yeah, I'm all wet and dirty from when you threw mud at me earlier,” Simon says. “I don't want to show up to your parents' interrogation like this."
He had taken his coat off, and Wille could see that sure enough, some of the snow and mud from earlier had seeped into his clothing. Wille would have to lend him a fresh sweater before they went to dinner.
"It's not an interrogation," Wille insists in the meantime, not wanting his boyfriend to be any more nervous than he probably was already on meet-the-parents night. "And that was an accident!"
It wasn't Wille's fault that the snow deposited on the ground today had been a little too thin, or that he'd mixed in some mud while clumping together snowballs earlier. He'd been too busy dodging Simon's snow bombs to really notice, and Simon had taken off his winter coat at some point because he was sweating from the exertion and because it was hindering his movement.
Maybe it had been somewhat irresponsible of them to start a snowfight right before an inquisitorial dinner with the queen and her consort.
"Yeah, sure," Simon says. He pulls his t-shirt the rest of the way off his arms, and then drops it on top of his sweater in a careless, semi-wet heap on the floor.
Then he goes up to the bathtub and tries to turn the knob, but it doesn't even budge at first. It takes a decent amount of effort on the part of Simon and his wrists, as the bathtub faucet is a bit stuck from disuse, but soon enough it shakes and splutters and water starts to fall and splash at the bottom of the basin. Wille fiddles with his sleeves as he watches, unrolling them and rolling them back up again.
Simon grins at him still standing there in the doorway all decked out in his fleece sweater and thick pants, and says, "So are you going to join me or not?"
And then, "What? We've showered together before, and this isn't really any different."
Wille rubs at his own arm with a hand. "Um... Yeah. Okay." He can feel the churning excitement from that weekend at Simon's house inexplicably creeping up on him all over again, because even though they'd done it many times since then, this still felt different somehow. Somehow, every little thing he tried with Simon for the first time felt new and mildly exhilarating.
Wille walks over to the sink and begins flipping cabinet doors open. Picking up a bottle of some kind of lavish, likely overpriced bath gel he'd never cared to try before, he asks, "Soap?"
"Sure," Simon says. He takes the container from Wille, flips the cap open and turns the bottle upside down over the tub, watching froth bubble up on the water.
It had become a habit for them, after that weekend alone, to take a shower together before making love at night. Not only was it more time-efficient than showering one after the other – provided they didn't get too sidetracked while inside – it could also still be quite, well. Fun, and so intimate. The tension built up each time only made things better when they got back to Simon's bed.
Linda and Sara being somewhere in the house helped them to stay focused while still under the spray, because if they took too long, Sara would be banging on the door for her turn before too long. Then they wouldn't be able to avoid sheepishly walking out as a pair right in front of her.
The two women usually weren't away for the weekend, though, so they'd tried to perfect the art of sneaking into the bathroom together unnoticed by either of them. Wille had thought they'd been successful so far until one evening when Sara had touched him on the shoulder as she passed through the hallway and said, "Oh, Wilhelm, by the way – don't leave your clothes on the floor after you're done taking a shower with my brother. They'll get dirty."
Wille had just started turning pink when Sara just walked past him casually as if she'd been discussing the weather. If she knew, he would bet that Linda did too, which was mortifying – but it wasn't like she didn't already know what her son got up to with Wilhelm, after that video leak.
In any case, Wille's never laid in a tub with someone else before. The one in Simon's bathroom is too shallow for them to even bother trying, and he hasn't even used this one since he moved into Erik's suite. Back in his old rooms, he hardly ever used his own at all, either.
After he puts the bottle on the counter, he turns to face Simon, who approaches him and smooths a hand up and down his shoulder. Wille's shoulders slump as some of his anxiety drains out, and they help each other undress, dropping the clothes on the tile one after another.
Wille steps in first, and gives Simon a hand climbing into the tub. Once Simon is standing facing him within it, he says, "Wait."
Simon looks up at him.
"Turn around," Wille says. Placing his hands on both sides of Simon's waist, Wille gently prompts him to turn away so he has his back to Wille, and then tugs down to indicate he should sit between Wille's legs as he lowers himself into the warm water.
Simon seems to catch on to what he's trying to do, so when Wille leans onto the inclined back of the tub and draws him down too so his head is lying back on Wille's shoulder, he reclines smoothly with no resistance. Simon's curls brush his shoulder as he settles there, tickling Wille a little before being crushed under his head.
The bathtub is deep enough that the water reaches helpfully up to both their necks, washing any dirt splattered there off without much effort from either of them. Wille wraps both arms around Simon's waist, then sighs in contentment and leans his head to the left to rest against Simon's.
He closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the warm, slippery slide of Simon's skin against his. When he gazes over Simon’s shoulder and down at the length of their bodies, he sees his knees framing Simon’s thighs, pinkish white on bronze, bubbly water sloshing around. The sight makes his stomach flip pleasantly. He snakes his arms around Simon’s waist possessively as he presses the insides of his knees against Simon's thighs, enclosing his boyfriend in the protective embrace of his body.
Simon's slick back slides against Wille's chest, and his curls are now damp and flattened against Wille's shoulders. Wille turns his head inwards to press his lips on Simon's temple, and Simon closes his eyes.
After resting there a long moment, just feeling each other's touch, Wille speaks quietly into Simon's ear. "Are you nervous about meeting with my parents?"
"No," Simon grumbles. "I already met your mom, remember?" He pauses as he remembers that meeting, how awkward he was when he shook her hand and who that mother really was. Then he opens his eyes and admits, "Okay, maybe a little."
Wille tightens the arm around Simon's waist. "Just remember, no matter what they think of you, I'll still be with you, and they won't change my mind."
Simon's mouth curls in satisfaction. He has to crane his head all the way to the side, but he manages to meet Wille's eyes over his shoulder. “See, I always knew you were brave,” he says.
Simon's eyes drop down to his lips, a telltale sign that Wille is more than used to seeing and acting on now. Simon has to stick his chin up a bit further in order to reach Wille's mouth, but they manage to kiss despite the slightly awkward angle, pressing and dragging their lips against each other. Simon rubs the arm around his waist up and down with his hand. And when Wille deepens the kiss, he tastes clementines, something that's become a pleasurable reminder to him of Simon when he eats it.
Their lips stick together as they break apart slowly. Looking thoughtfully at Simon’s soft and perfect pink bow lips for a minute, revelling in the fact that they were his and only his to kiss, Wille murmurs, "Do you remember our first kiss?"
Simon blinks at him. "What kind of question is that?" he says, amused. "Of course I do. I could never forget it."
Wille presses their mouths together again once, twice, holding him tighter, and then makes a confession. "You know that I was so in shock at first that I froze up completely, right? Like, I couldn't even move an inch."
Maybe it shouldn't have taken so long for him to be able to admit this, but Simon needed to know that he had not been rejected in any way, at any point that night.
"Is that what happened?" Simon laughs against his lips, and Wille smiles in turn. "I was mortified when you didn't respond. I thought maybe I was going way too fast, or that I was wrong about you liking me, and I'd just embarrassed myself by kissing the prince out of nowhere."
"You weren't wrong." Wille kisses him tenderly, and his hand swishes through the water over Simon's belly. "You just caught me off guard. I wasn't prepared."
"You should've known after I held your hand in front of everyone."
"Yeah, but – kissing someone is a big leap from that. Especially for the first time."
"Not that big of a leap."
Wille moves the hand around Simon's waist up and down his chest, inching farther and farther down with each languid stroke.
"Wille," says Simon, voice suddenly breathy and rough. "What're you doing?"
"Relaxing you before dinner," Wille murmurs into his ear.
"We don't have time," Simon says. "Wille –" He squirms in Wille's embrace, but doesn't try to stop Wille's hand from moving. "I want to actually get clean, and neither of us will if you do that."
"What d'you mean? I'm cleaning you right now." Wille grins against the skin behind Simon's ear, fully aware of what Simon was trying to do.
Simon lets out a helpless little laugh at that, and Wille kisses the sensitive spot that's under his mouth, and then noses Simon's curls tenderly. He can smell wintery sweat from their snowball fight earlier, the basic drugstore shampoo Simon always uses, and coconut oil, a mixture that's so Simon that it only gets his blood up – or, well, down. If he focuses and presses in a little, Wille thinks he can feel Simon's heartbeat under his lips, the very life of his love pulsing inside.
Wille gives Simon's neck the softest open-mouthed kiss right above his pulse, and then slides the hand that's resting on Simon's chest the rest of the slippery, soapy way down, cupping the soft skin there.
Simon always comes first for him when it comes to this, and as Simon gasps and throws his head back against Wille's shoulder, the bubbly water rocks around them, some of it spilling over the lip of the bathtub and splashing on the pristine tiled floor.
His eyes are closed, any thoughts or anxiety clearly having fled momentarily from his mind as he's lost in pleasure and sensation, grounded in his body and the moment. Wille studies his long dark eyelashes for a languorous moment, then drops kisses all over Simon's temple and cheek and jaw, or just wherever his lips could reach. Simon clenches his fingers around Wille's other wrist as it strokes up and down his belly.
Once he's done, and Simon is panting against him with his limbs sagging and loose, he washes the mess off of Simon, feeling just a little smug.
Simon is always so pretty like this, with the flush in his cheeks warming his tan skin even more. With a mostly clean hand on Simon's jaw, Wille turns his head towards himself so they can kiss. They only break apart when Wille remembers that he has to check his watch on the stand next to the tub.
"We still have twenty minutes." Wille says it like a question when he turns back to Simon.
He knows Simon can feel him hard against the hollow of his back. Being pressed up against those gorgeous curves is rapidly becoming too much for him, and he either has to separate himself from Simon right away and rinse off with cold water, or Simon has to let him press harder.
He waits to let Simon decide.
Simon gazes back at him over his shoulder and bites his bottom lip slightly. His eyes travel from Wille's eyes down his face, landing on his lips. Then the weight of him against Wille disappears as he starts to sit up.
Wille is starting to feel resigned, pushing up on both arms to sit up himself and get ready for dinner, but Simon only turns before settling down in the greywater between Wille's legs and facing him.
"Enough for your turn," Simon says, placing a hand on his chest.
At five minutes before 7 pm, Simon stands with his hand on the door to the dining room they'd been summoned to, bracing himself.
Wille is right at his side, and puts a bolstering hand on his shoulder. “Ready?” he asks softly.
"Yeah."
Simon takes a breath and pushes the handle of the door down.