Chapter Text
Simon is great at multi-tasking. He can simultaneously make himself a sandwich, talk with his sister on the phone, toe out of his dingy sneakers and check his inbox on his laptop, no problem. Except when he opens the attachment on his latest email to find a 32 page non-disclosure agreement for his new client he proceeds to trip over his newly shed shoe, drop his sandwich face down onto his keyboard and exclaim ‘fuck’ into his poor sister’s ear. Apparently the multi-tasking could use some work.
“Simon? Is something wrong?” Sara asks as Simon attempts to peel his sandwich from his laptop.
“Sorry. No, I’m fine. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll have the rest of mama’s rent tomorrow.”
“Great. The landlord’s been asking. And after this next procedure I’m hoping mama will be more mobile and I can get back to working more.”
“Okay. Keep me posted. I’ve gotta run but give mom my love.”
Simon may be great at multitasking (usually) but even he has his limits. Holding down a busy cafe job while attending university full time was already a stretch. When his mom was diagnosed (and had to put her job on hold) and Sara moved back in with her to help (and had to put her job on hold) it became clear that Simon needed a second gig to support them all that paid well but didn’t require too many hours. Having a friend that worked at an escort agency made it all too easy to fall into sex work.
He’d only been at it for a couple of weeks and this new client would be his third ever. Well, second really. The first was a no-show which the agency insisted was pretty common and that he would be paid for the whole session regardless. The next client was ridiculously easy. The guy hadn’t even touched Simon. He’d just wanted to sit in a chair in the corner and watch as Simon got himself off. Simon hadn’t even been sure if he’d put on much of a show but the guy had requested making it a regular appointment so he must’ve done okay.
So it’s been working out so far. Paying the bills without demanding too much effort on Simon’s part.
But then Hugo, the friend who introduced him into this line of work, was in an accident and the agency had reached out to Simon to cover one of his clients for him. The customer in question is an infrequent, but apparently important, client so Simon had agreed. This paperwork has him second guessing that decision so he decides to make another call.
“Hey, Hugo. How are you feeling?”
“I’m doing better. They’re about to release me from the hospital. The wrist hurts like crazy but it should heal just fine.”
“Good to hear. Hey, I just got passed one of your clients - number 621?” All clients of the agency are assigned a number for confidentiality. They aren’t supposed to discuss clients with anyone but Simon feels okay getting the inside scoop from Hugo if they don’t use names.
“Ohhhh. Yeah. That's a good one.”
“What’s with this ridiculous NDA? I already signed a general one with the agency.”
“You’ll understand when you meet him.”
“Is he into some weird kinky shit or something?”
“No nothing like that. Pretty vanilla actually.”
“Hmmm. Anything I should know about him?”
“Not really. He’s my easiest customer. Quick. Clean. Good tipper.”
“Hugo….” Simon pleads. He needs the tea.
“Just wait til you meet him. It will all make sense.”
“Thanks,” Simon grumbles, deadpan.
“Have fun!” Hugo replies with annoying positivity.
The puzzle solving part of Simon’s brain takes over as he finishes getting ready. The rates at the agency are ridiculous so it has to be someone rich. But the extra NDA and no crazy kinks means it must be someone famous? Or powerful? But why the need for the agency? Probably an older, married, deeply closeted businessman. Great.
The designated address is a fancy condo building in a posh part of town and Simon arrives a little early. He’s met at the lobby door by a stern looking woman in a suit who escorts him up to the top floor. At the door to the flat he’s patted down and his bag is searched which does nothing to calm his nerves. He attempts a few leading questions but the bodyguard (is that what she is?) gives him nothing except ‘he should be with you shortly’.
The flat is large, and richly furnished, but with the distinct vibe that no one lives there full time. Simon pokes around a bit, searching for clues to what is in store for him, but comes up with nothing. He does find a couple of fluffy robes in the closet and changes into one. Being undressed when the client arrives might speed the process along if nothing else.
He’s checking himself out in the large mirror in the foyer when the door suddenly opens. All of his musings and speculations are apparently a total waste of time because nothing could have prepared him for the fucking Crown Prince of Sweden appearing in front of him.
“Oh shit,” Simon mutters. Whoops. He probably shouldn’t have said that out loud.
The prince scans him over quickly and Simon can’t help but notice how much prettier he is in person. Taking a deep breath, the prince proceeds further into the flat while removing his tie. “You’re new,” he states and doesn’t seem particularly pleased about that.
“Yeah…uh. Hugo was in a bike accident? He has to take some time off.”
That stops the prince in his tracks. “Is he okay?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.
“Yeah. Yeah, broken wrist but it’s healing up. Should be back at it in another couple weeks.”
“Hm…” The prince’s suit jacket is gracefully shed next and he lays it over the back of one of the chairs in the living area. His eyes dart to Simon quickly and away. Then back again.
“I’m Simon, by the way.”
“You can call me Wilhelm.”
“Right.”
“Do you want something to drink?” he asks. There’s a little bar off the living area that seems well stocked. Simon declines as Wilhelm pours himself something from a fancy decanter.
For a long moment the only sounds are the ice rattling in the crystal glass and the rain hitting the dark windows. Simon wonders if he’s supposed to make the first move or say something seductive (what even would that be?) but Wilhelm’s intense gaze has gripped his lungs. The moment is finally broken when Wilhelm visibly swallows then motions with his head for him to follow him into the bedroom. Simon tamps down his nerves and steps in after him.
There’s a huge bed that dominates the softly lit room. Large windows that reveal the city lights below. Wilhelm moves about the room with familiarity, avoiding looking at him and Simon is at a loss. He’s feeling his lack of professional experience keenly. Surely he should do something besides stand there awkwardly, right?
Wilhelm takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders back and starts to unbutton his own shirt. “Are you prepped?” He asks softly, looking up at him through his eyelashes.
“Of course,” Simon answers. He may be new to this type of work but he’s not completely inexperienced.
“Lose the robe. Hands on the desk.” Wilhelm orders. His voice isn’t loud but it’s clear and authoritative. Simon can’t decide if it’s annoying or hot. It’s at least a relief to know what to do so he lets the robe fall to the floor, tries his best not to blush, and places his palms on the fancy wood desk against the wall.
On the wall above the desk hangs a mosaic art piece made up of silver and black tiles interspersed with small mirrors. When Simon looks into it he can make out portions of the prince’s face and body behind him. He watches him strip down to boxers and an undershirt. Eyes him as he gets some things out of a drawer. Sees him approach, setting a towel and a bottle of lube on the desk next to Simon's hand. He hears him put on a condom and slick himself up. Feels him place a hand gently on Simon's hip. “This okay?” he murmurs.
“Yeah.”
Without further warning, the prince slides his hand down between his cheeks and pushes two fingers in. Simon hisses at the surprise intrusion.
“You said you prepped.”
“I did…some.” Simon doesn't mention that most of his partners like it when he’s a little tight. That he kind of likes it too.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Simon shrugs. “I don’t mind.”
Wilhelm ignores his claim and takes a few minutes to stretch him out more. And damn, Simon will give it to him. He’s talented with his fingers. He can’t help but let out a gasp or two. Maybe one tiny little moan.
Wilhelm, in contrast, is totally silent with his brow furrowed in concentration. When he finally withdraws his fingers and slowly presses his cock inside, Simon hisses again. Apparently he did need the extra prep. The prince is big.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, fuck. Feels good.” And it’s true. Wilhelm is patient about it. Gives him time to adjust. Holds his hips firmly but not enough to bruise as he sets a slow, deep pace. The nerves kept Simon from getting hard before but now his own cock starts to react to him being filled so fully. The position and Wilhelm’s quiet and considerate authority are doing something for him as well.
Usually, Simon is pretty good at reading his sexual partners. Whether they like it when he’s vocal with his needs and pleasure or if they prefer him more submissive. But he can’t get a read on Wilhelm even watching the glimpses of his face in the small mirrors. He tries arching his back a bit more and is rewarded with a gasp and a harder thrust. It only spurs Simon into getting more reactions. He presses back on Wilhelm’s next thrust and they both let out stifled moans.
Encouraged, Simon meets his every thrust and lets his tongue loose. “Fuck. Yeah. That’s so good.” Wilhelm starts to let loose a bit too. Thrusting harder, mouth hanging open, eyes open and focused on where they are joined. Simon, sensing that the prince is getting close, takes hold of his own cock to stroke in time with Wilhelm’s thrusts. They’re both hurtling towards their climax when tragically a cell phone starts vibrating on the dresser across the room. Wilhelm closes his eyes tight and shakes his head, still thrusting determinedly but the damn phone keeps buzzing. When it finally stops they both heave a breath of relief but then it starts right back up again.
Wilhelm tilts his head back and stops moving. “Fucking hell,” he grits out, apparently too distractred to continue. He pulls out, tucks himself back into his boxers, wipes his hands on the towel and crosses the room to answer his phone.
Simon, feeling just as frustrated, takes the opportunity to straighten up and shake out his arms.
“Yes?” Wilhelm growls into the phone and Simon can just hear a stern sounding voice through the line. “No!” the prince continues, "No, there's no need….” Then he heaves out a heavy sigh, one hand covering his eyes. A new voice comes through. “Hello mother….. I’m aware. Of course I know how important… I do recognize that…. I… He’s also a damn bigot! I don’t know how you expect me to sit silently while he spews that nationalistic vitriol at me… I…” The prince silently seethes for a minute while the angry voice comes through the line. Simon pulls on his robe. It feels very weird to be naked and lubed up while he can hear the queen's voice. “Fine. Yes. Of course,” Wilhelm eventually spits out with a defeated set to his shoulders. Another voice comes through the line but the prince is apparently done speaking.
When the diatribe ends Wilhelm hangs up and tosses the phone onto the bed. He rakes both hands through his own hair and lets out a frustrated groan. When he finally looks up Simon feels the inexplicable urge to comfort him.
“You can go,” Wilhelm mumbles resignedly.
“But…”
“I’ll pay for the whole session of course.”
Shit. Simon is stupidly conflicted. Leaving would be the easiest option. He does have an assignment due in a few days that he should be working on. But…
“I’m not worried about that. We just… we didn’t finish.”
Wilhelm huffs out an unamused snort. “After that emasculating phone call I don't think anything will be happening.” He gestures apologetically at his bulge-free boxers before going to sit on the edge of the bed looking defeated.
For some reason that sparks something in Simon. The practical part of his brain is yelling at him. ‘Take the easy way out!’ Another part of him (a part he’s not ready to name) ignores that advice. He puts on his best sultry smirk. “Well that just sounds like a fun challenge.”
The look on Wilhelm’s face shifts. He raises his brows and his lips turn up the smallest bit. The reckless part of Simon rejoices as he goes to stand between his knees. Wilhelm’s expression morphs to curiosity, and damn, it suits him.
“Can I touch you, Wilhelm?”
The prince nods.
Simon starts by running the fingers of both his hands through his hair, twisting and tugging gently. Wilhelm hums his approval, face tilted up, eyes closed. He then moves his hands to his neck, massaging his thumbs into the tendons of his shoulders and the muscles at the hinge of his jaw.
Wilhelm sighs and drops his head so the top is resting against Simon's stomach just above the tie of the robe. “You smell so good,” he murmurs.
“You can touch me too, if you want.”
Thankfully he does. He runs his hands up the outsides of Simon's thighs under the robe. Starts rubbing his thumbs in circles on his hip bones. Slips his hands back to knead his ass. Simon moans his approval as he starts to get hard again.
Apparently Wilhelm takes that as encouragement and he tugs open the tie on his robe. Leaning forward, he starts to kiss across Simon’s chest. It’s almost reverent the way he’s touching him, laving a tongue across his nipple, nosing at his pec. His eyes are closed and his face looks so peaceful. Simon can’t help but moan out his name. Then he looks up, deliberately catching Simon’s eye before he bends down and kisses the tip of his cock.
It’s so much. It’s sweet and it’s dirty and it’s surreal and it feels so so good. Simon can only respond by climbing into his lap and tugging at the hair at the back of his neck so that he can finally kiss him. Wilhelm responds with a moan, his strong hands gripping Simon’s back, his warm mouth open and soft under his eager lips. Simon is lost.
He can feel that the prince is hard again and can’t help but grind down on him. Wilhelm responds by thrusting his hips up and letting out a ragged sounding, “fuck, Simon.” And Simon is drunk on the sound of his name on his lips. He tugs on his hair again so that he can get the angle he wants to kiss Wilhelm’s neck and is fascinated at how compliant he is under Simon’s direction.
Eventually, Wille falls back to lie on the bed and Simon follows him eagerly. But Wille’s grip on his hips keep urging him higher until Simon catches on and awkwardly shuffles up his body until he’s straddling Wilhelm’s chest. He looks down for just a moment into his blissed out gaze, before Wilhelm lifts his head and sucks his cock into his pink swollen lips.
“Oh, fuck!” Simon gasps out, barely able to stay upright in his shock. Wilhelm is so damn eager, bobbing his head even though his neck is at what must be a painful angle. Simon tangles his fingers in his hair to ground himself and take some of the weight of his head and Wilhelm moans loudly around his cock. And fuck it feels so incredibly good that he’s once again hurtling towards his orgasm. He tries to warn Wilhelm but he just keeps eagerly sucking him down and it’s sloppy and perfect and Simon comes with a choked off cry right onto his warm mouth.
Simon collapses forward to catch his breath then rolls to lie beside Wilhelm who’s equally breathless.
“Holy shit,” the prince gasps out, still facing the ceiling.
“You okay?” Simon asks. He looks down and sees that Wilhelm’s boxers are shoved halfway down his thighs. That he has come all over his own stomach and chest. Some on his undershirt, some on his skin where the shirt rode up.
“Yes. More than okay,” he chuckles with a bewildered head shake. “Just wow.” Then he turns towards him with a wide smile that stops Simon's rapidly beating heart. He can’t help but grin back.
They lie there for another few moments grinning stupidly at each other. Simon should probably leave. Get out before it gets awkward. Get home with time to finish that assignment. But he finds himself intrigued by this smiling, lighter version of the prince, so he hauls himself off the bed and holds out his hands. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Wilhelm asks, lifting himself up to his elbows.
“You need to rinse off and I need to try out that huge fancy shower I spotted earlier. Come on.”
“Yes, sir,” Wilhelm huffs with obvious delight, taking Simon’s hands and allowing himself to be pulled up.