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Simon snuggled deeper into Wilhelm's side, his curly hair tickling the taller man's arm. The flickering light of the television cast an eerie glow across their faces as they watched a classic horror movie. A sudden, blood-curdling scream erupted from the screen, and Simon instinctively clutched onto Wilhelm, his body trembling slightly.
"I'm sorry," Simon mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Wilhelm chuckled softly, his hand finding its way to Simon's back. "Don't apologize, baby," he reassured him. "We can turn off the movie if you'd like."
Simon shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "No, I like being scared."
Wilhelm nodded, understanding the appeal of horror. After all, that's why most people watched these films. But there was something different about Simon's fear, something raw and primal.
"I like being scared," Simon continued, his voice barely a whisper. "I like the adrenaline, the helpless feeling. I like being afraid."
Wilhelm's heart skipped a beat. He'd never thought about it like that before. He watched as Simon's eyes, usually so full of innocence, were now filled with a strange intensity. He reached out and gently stroked Simon's curls, filing away this new information for later. They turned their attention back to the movie, the flickering light casting long shadows across their faces.
~
The quiet hum of the fridge was the only sound that filled the cottage as Simon turned the key in the lock. A week had passed since their last cozy movie night, and with Wilhelm still occupied with a demanding group project, Simon had anticipated a peaceful evening alone. He slipped off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door, a small smile playing on his lips. He shut and locked the door, hearing a small “click.”
He pulled out his phone and tapped out a quick text to Wilhelm: "Got home safe ❤️". It was a ritual they'd developed over the years, a simple exchange of affection that always brought a sense of comfort. Almost instantly, a heart emoji appeared in response, a silent promise of love and support. Simon chuckled, the sound echoing through the empty rooms.
As he flicked on the lights, a sudden chill ran down his spine. The cottage, usually warm and inviting, felt oddly cold and unfamiliar. He shrugged it off, attributing it to the late autumn weather. He moved through the house, checking each room, a sense of unease growing with every step.
The kitchen, usually filled with the comforting scent of baking or the sizzle of a frying pan, was silent and empty. The living room, where they had spent countless hours laughing, studying, and simply being together, was devoid of any warmth. A shiver ran down his spine as he glanced at the large bay window, the darkness outside reflecting the growing unease within him.
He decided to make a cup of tea, hoping the warmth of the beverage would soothe his nerves. As he waited for the kettle to boil, he heard a faint noise from upstairs. A creak, a whisper, a soft footstep. His heart pounded in his chest. He gripped the teacup tighter, his knuckles turning white. Fear, a sensation he both craved and dreaded, was beginning to consume him.
Simon set the teacup down on the counter, his grip tightening around it. It was probably just his imagination playing tricks on him. After all, their cottage was nestled deep in the countryside, far removed from the hustle and bustle of city life. But the eerie silence and the peculiar chill in the air had unsettled him.
He decided a hot shower would help calm his nerves. As he made his way to the bedroom, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. He dropped his bag on the bed and headed towards Wilhelm's closet. A pang of longing washed over him as he pulled out a large, white dress shirt and a pair of soft boxers. In Wilhelm's absence, his clothes offered a comforting sense of connection. He held the garments close to his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his boyfriend.
With a gentle smile, he folded the clothes neatly and placed them on the bathroom counter. He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the warm embrace of the shower. The water cascaded down his body, washing away the tension and anxiety. He thought of Wilhelm, his touch, his gentleness. He closed his eyes, letting the soothing sensation lull him into a state of tranquility.
As he stood there, lost in thought, he heard a faint noise from downstairs. A creak, a whisper, a soft footstep. His heart pounded in his chest, a cold dread creeping into his bones. He quickly turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around himself. With a deep breath, he stepped out of the bathroom, his hand instinctively reaching for the nearest weapon - a toilet brush.
The noise grew louder, closer. He crept down the hallway, his senses heightened. The hallway was dark, although Simon swore he'd left the light on. A shiver passed through his spine as he crept down the hallway. He tiptoed up the stairs, the old cottage's creaky boards protesting his passage. The silence was broken only by the soft scuffle of his feet and the rhythmic creak of the stairs.
As he reached the top, he flipped on the light switch. The sudden illumination revealed the culprit of the noise: Sebastian, the cottage's ancient black cat, sprawled across the landing. The old feline regarded him with a look of disdain, as if accusing Simon of disturbing his slumber.
Simon chuckled, reaching out to stroke the cat's soft fur. "It must have just been you running up here, huh, Sebby?" he teased. Sebastian merely blinked, unmoved.
Despite the initial fright, Simon couldn't help but smile. The old cottage, with its creaky floors and mysterious noises, had always held a certain charm. And with Sebastian as a constant companion, even the darkest corners seemed less intimidating.
As he continued down the hallway, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. He glanced over his shoulder, but the hallway was empty. Perhaps it was just the old house playing tricks on him. Or maybe, just maybe, there was something else lurking in the shadows.
Simon stood up straight, his heart pounding in his chest. He was probably just being paranoid. After all, he was home alone in the quiet countryside. Still, a shiver ran down his spine as he peered into the darkness.
"I don't know if there is anyone in here, but if there is, you better fuck off!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty hallway. "I'm going to go do my hair, and if you disturb me, this toilet brush is going in your mouth!" He waved the brush around menacingly, a half-hearted attempt to appear intimidating.
Sebastian, the old black cat, meowed at him, seemingly amused by his antics. Simon chuckled apologetically. "Sorry, Sebby. I know that was loud."
With a sigh, he turned back to the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and began to dry his hair, the soft fabric gently absorbing the moisture. As he ran his fingers through his curls, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. He glanced over his shoulder, but the room was empty. Perhaps it was just the old house playing tricks on him. Or maybe, just maybe, there was something else lurking in the shadows.
Simon stepped back into the hallway, Wilhelm's oversized shirt hanging loosely from his frame. His curls, damp and unruly, framed his face. He tiptoed back to the kitchen, relieved to find the kettle whistling. As he poured the hot water into his mug, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Something was off.
A sudden thought struck him. He checked the front door, his heart sinking as he realized it was unlocked. He was certain he had locked it before going upstairs. A shiver ran down his spine. He had always been meticulous about security, especially in their secluded cottage.
His phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. A new message had arrived from an unknown number. He unlocked his phone and read the message aloud, his voice barely a whisper. "Do you like scary movies?" The words echoed in the quiet kitchen, sending chills down his spine.
A wave of fear washed over him. Who could be sending him such a cryptic message? As he pondered the mystery, he couldn't help but think of the strange occurrences earlier that evening. The creaking floorboards, the eerie silence, and now, the unlocked door. A sense of dread settled over him. He was no longer sure if he was alone in the cottage.
A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He glanced around the room, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The once comforting kitchen now felt like a trap. He gripped the teacup tightly, his knuckles turning white. He had to stay calm. He had to figure out what was going on. But as the seconds ticked by, his fear grew, and the darkness seemed to close in around him.
He glanced at the hallway. The lights were dimmed, not completely off. He hadn't dimmed them. A chill ran down his spine. Having seen enough, he rushed to the bag by the door, where his keys should be. But the bag was gone. His car keys were gone. So were his shoes. It seemed running was no longer an option.
A creaking sound echoed from the hallway. Adrenaline surged through him, forcing him to think quickly. It was clear that a confrontation was inevitable. He rushed back to the kitchen, hoping to arm himself with a knife. But as he reached for the knife block, his hand met empty air. The knives were gone. Desperate, he opened drawers, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. In the end, all he could find was a wooden spoon. Gripping it tightly, he crept towards the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest.
Peering into the darkness, he saw nothing. With a deep breath, he tiptoed into the hallway, searching for the light switch. Tears welled up in his eyes as he fumbled for the switch, his trembling fingers struggling to find their mark. Clutching the wooden spoon tighter, he looked around, panic rising within him. The hallway stretched out before him, dividing into two paths: one leading upstairs, the other towards the bedroom and guest rooms.
A glimmer of hope sparked within him. He remembered the baseball bat he kept in the bedroom. It could be a formidable weapon. With renewed determination, he started towards the bedroom. Just as he took a step, a creak sounded from behind him. He whirled around, his heart pounding like a drum. A figure stood in the shadows, a menacing figure cloaked in darkness. The only thing visible was the horrifying mask, the signature of a killer. A chill ran down his spine as he recognized the mask - Ghostface.
In the darkness, Ghostface cocked his head, a chilling silence filling the air. Then, he held up a knife, a familiar sight to Simon. It was one from his own kitchen. A surge of adrenaline coursed through Simon's veins, and he knew he had to act fast. He turned and sprinted down the hallway, hoping to escape the masked figure.
The man was tall and imposing, a formidable opponent. Simon knew he couldn't overpower him in a physical confrontation. As he raced down the hallway, he cursed the layout of the house. Why did the hallway have to be so long, with so many rooms leading off it? His heart pounded in his chest as he dodged around corners, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Just as he thought he had gained some distance, he felt a hand reach out, grasping at his shoulder. He twisted and turned, narrowly avoiding the grasp. Adrenaline fueled him as he swung the wooden spoon at the intruder, but his aim was off. The masked figure quickly seized his wrists, pinning them above his head.
A sharp pain shot through Simon's back as he was slammed against the wall. He hissed in pain, his vision blurring as he dropped the spoon, hearing the wood clatter on the floor. The masked figure, now in complete control, held him captive, gathering his wrists into a single bigger, gloved, palm. "You're sick!" Simon growled, his voice filled with anger and fear. "Take off that stupid mask, you coward!"
The masked figure merely tilted its head, a sinister grin hidden beneath the mask. "Simon~" the distorted voice echoed, sending shivers down Simon's spine. The familiar voice, twisted and distorted, filled him with a sense of dread.
"I wanna hear you scream," the distorted voice echoed, sending a shiver down Simon's spine. The masked figure leaned in closer, the cold steel of the knife hovering dangerously close to his neck. Tears streamed down Simon's face. He longed for Wilhelm's comforting presence, his strength, his love. The thought of Wilhelm filled him with a renewed sense of hope.
With a surge of adrenaline, Simon brought his knee up, striking the masked man in the gut. The figure grunted in pain, dropping the knife. "Get. Off. Me!" Simon yelled, struggling against the masked figure's grip. With a final push, he broke free, stumbling backward.
He turned and ran towards the bedroom, the sound of the masked figure's heavy footsteps echoing behind him. His heart pounded in his chest as he raced down the hallway, each breath a desperate gasp. He burst into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
Panting heavily, he leaned against the door, his body trembling. He had narrowly escaped a terrifying ordeal. But he knew the danger wasn't over yet. The masked figure would not give up easily. He had to find a way to protect himself, to survive this nightmare.
A wave of fear washed over him. He was alone, vulnerable, and at the mercy of a ruthless killer. He thought of Wilhelm, of their life together, of the future they had planned. A sob escaped his lips as he realized how fragile life could be.
But he couldn't give up. He had to fight. He had to survive. With renewed determination, he searched the room for a weapon, anything that could help him defend himself. The fate of the night, and perhaps his life, hung in the balance.
He frantically searched the room, his eyes scanning every corner. The baseball bat, his usual weapon of choice, was nowhere to be found. Desperation gnawed at him. He needed something, anything to defend himself.
Then, he remembered his phone. With trembling fingers, he dialed the only number he could think of. The phone rang a few times before Wilhelm's voice, warm and comforting, filled his ears. "Hello, my love."
"Wille!" Simon gasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of the creaking floorboards. "Someone's in the house. He has a knife!"
"Simon, you sound scared. Are you okay?" Wilhelm's voice, filled with concern, soothed him.
"Wille," Simon sobbed, his voice breaking. "He's close to me!"
"Simon, I'm almost there. Just wait for me. It'll be okay," Wilhelm reassured him.
"Wille, you don't understand!" Simon yelled, his voice rising in panic. "He's trying to get in!"
"Simon, I gotta go. I'm almost there!" Wilhelm's voice cut off abruptly, the line going dead. Simon's heart sank. He was alone, trapped, and terrified.
Suddenly, a violent banging erupted against the door, shaking the frame. A cold sweat broke out on Simon's forehead as he pressed his back against the door, bracing himself for the inevitable. The masked figure was growing closer, its sinister intentions clear.
The door burst open, sending Simon crashing to the floor. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of him, leaving him gasping for air. He turned his head, his eyes meeting the terrifying sight of the masked figure.
"I said, don't move," the distorted voice growled.
Simon tried to scramble away, but his legs felt heavy, his movements slow. He stumbled towards the bathroom, hoping to find refuge. But before he could reach it, a foot connected with his back, sending him sprawling to the floor.
Despair washed over him. This was it. This was how it would end. Tears streamed down his face as he surrendered to his fate. "Wille..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Strong hands grabbed his hair, pulling him to his feet. He was forced to face his captor, his wrists twisted behind his back. As the masked figure dragged him to the bathroom counter, Simon's heart pounded with fear. He was forced to look at his own reflection, a pathetic figure, his face streaked with tears.
The masked figure removed its hand from Simon's hair, revealing a familiar face. The Ghostface mask fell to the ground, revealing pale skin, blond hair, and piercing brown eyes. A small smirk played on Wilhelm's lips.
"My love," Wilhelm whispered, his voice gentle and soothing. He pulled Simon into a tight embrace, offering comfort and protection.
Simon's body relaxed, the tension melting away. "Wille... What? How?" he stammered, his mind racing.
"Malin taught me a few things," Wilhelm replied, his voice filled with pride. He kissed Simon's neck, a tender gesture that sent shivers down Simon's spine. Simon's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and affection. He had never felt safer, never felt more loved. He was quickly turned around and placed back in Wilhelm's hold, the one he had kept as Ghostface.
Simon's breathing quickened. Of course, it was Wilhelm. No one else knew about their little cottage. A blush crept across his face as Wilhelm's lips trailed wet kisses down his neck. The taller man looked up, his gaze meeting Simon's in the mirror. A smirk played on Wilhelm's lips as he took in the sight of Simon's flushed cheeks. "You really like this, don't you?" he teased.
Simon nodded, his breath caught in his throat. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming. He had never felt so alive, so desired. The line between reality and fantasy blurred as Wilhelm continued to shower him with affection.
In that moment, all their fears and worries seemed to dissipate. They were alone, together, lost in the passion of the moment. As Wilhelm's touch ignited a fire within him, Simon surrendered to the pleasure, his body arching involuntarily.
"My love," Wilhelm whispered, his voice husky with amusement. "You were so cute, running for your life." A chuckle escaped his lips as Simon's face turned a deep shade of red. Wilhelm's strong arms held him securely, a comforting weight against Simon's trembling body. The taller man's free hand found its way to Simon's throat, his fingers tracing the delicate pulse point. Simon whimpered, his heart pounding in his chest. Wilhelm smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Even now, your heart is still racing."
Simon leaned back, exposing his throat to Wilhelm. Despite the fear that still lingered, a strange excitement was beginning to bubble up within him. Wilhelm's gaze flickered down his body before meeting his own in the mirror. His grin widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Still so afraid, my love," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. Wilhelm's hand tightened around Simon's hair, pulling him closer. His lips brushed against Simon's throat, sending shivers down his spine. Simon whimpered, his body reacting instinctively to the touch.
As Wilhelm continued to tease and torment him, a strange mix of fear and desire consumed Simon. He was terrified, yet strangely exhilarated. The line between pain and pleasure blurred, leaving him breathless and submissive. In that moment, he realized that he was utterly captivated by the man who held him captive. A soft whimper escaped Simon's lips as he surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure.
“Watching you run around, scared," Wilhelm continued, his voice low and seductive. "While you were in only my shirt and boxers was so hot, my love." Each mark sucked into Simon's skin, a spark formed, igniting a fire within Simon. His body trembled with anticipation, his senses heightened. The thrill of the chase, the fear, the power dynamic - it was intoxicating. Wilhelm relished in the feeling, the knowledge that he had complete control over Simon's body and mind.
The curly-haired boy suppressed a shiver. Wilhelm's words made him feel vulnerable, yet strangely empowered. The contrast between fear and desire was intoxicating. He was a captive, yet he was also a willing participant in this dangerous game. And as Wilhelm continued to tease and torment him, Simon realized that he was utterly consumed by the thrill of it all.
Suddenly, his hair was pulled, forcing him to look at his reflection in the mirror. "Look at yourself, my love," Wilhelm whispered, his breath warm against Simon's ear. "So scared, so vulnerable in my hold. You look so pretty with tears running down your face."
Simon's eyes widened as he gazed at his reflection. He saw himself, a picture of vulnerability. His shirt was mostly unbuttoned, revealing his pale skin. His hair was disheveled, tears tracing paths down his flushed cheeks. He looked both terrifying and alluring.
Wilhelm released Simon's wrists, but the curly-haired boy remained pressed against his chest, offering little escape. "Simon, my beautiful Simon," Wilhelm murmured, his lips trailing a path of kisses down Simon's jawline. "So beautiful." A strong arm snaked around Simon's waist, pulling him closer. Simon was trapped, a captive in his captor's embrace. Yet, in that moment, he felt a strange sense of peace. He was safe, protected, and utterly consumed by the man who held him.
Wilhelm's hand wrapped around Simon's nipple, pinching it and rolling the hardened bud in-between his fingers, “Oh you really like this, my love,” it was a statement, not a question. They both knew, Simon could feel himself hardening and he was sure Wilhelm could see it. The hand in his hair tightened, forcing Simon's head to turn. Wilhelm detached his lips from Simon's neck, his gaze burning into the other boy's. With a swift movement, he claimed Simon's lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue demanding entry. A hand had traveled from his nipples to his crotch. Pleasure filled Simon's body as the hand began to palm at him through the boxers. Simon, breathless and dazed, opened his mouth gasping, allowing Wilhelm to explore the depths of his mouth. Their tongues danced, a battle for dominance that Wilhelm quickly won.
A desperate whimper escaped Simon's lips as he surrendered to the intensity of the kiss. Wilhelm locked into every part of the boy's mouth, consuming him, as he palmed at his length. The black haired boy could feel Wilhelm, hard, against his lower back. He tried to raise his hips up to grind on him, desperately craving his boyfriend.
The taller boy smirked, briefly breaking the kiss, “So desperate for your killer, such a slut. I'm gonna fuck you so well.”
Simon pouted, grinding in against Wilhelm, “Wille- please!”
Wilhelm crashed their mouths together again, as if consuming him. He had everything. He had Simon's soul, Simon's safety, Simon's arousal, and most importantly Simon all at his fingertips. The curly haired boy moaned into the kiss as he felt Wilhelm roll his hips into Simon's arse, brushing against him teasily. He licked fiercely into his mouth, loving the taste of his lover.
Wilhelm abruptly broke the kiss, pulling back from Simon. The sudden loss of contact sent a shiver down Simon's spine. Confusion clouded his eyes as he tried to decipher Wilhelm's intentions. Wilhelm stepped back, gently pushing Simon against the counter. Simon whined softly, his body craving the touch of his lover.
"Shhh, my love," Wilhelm whispered, his voice low and soothing. "Stay here a moment for me while I go get what I need." Simon nodded, his forehead resting against the cool surface of the counter. He closed his eyes, the sound of fabric rustling and the soft click of a bottle cap filling the silence.
"My love," Wilhelm purred, his voice laced with a dangerous undertone. "I would like to wear the mask." A chill ran down Simon's spine as he processed Wilhelm's words. The idea of his lover wearing the mask of a killer, worshiping him as a victim, was both terrifying and exhilarating. It pushed the boundaries of their relationship, blurring the lines between love and obsession.
Simon nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He was desperate for Wilhelm, for anything that could alleviate the growing tension. "Please, Wille," he begged, his voice barely a whisper. A blush crept across his face as he looked up, his gaze meeting the terrifying mask of Ghostface.
"Do you like that, baby?" the masked figure asked, its voice distorted and menacing. "Do you like being the victim who seduced their killer?" Simon recognized the voice beneath the mask, the voice of the man he loved. He whimpered, his body trembling. "Wille, please..." he pleaded.
The masked figure chuckled, the sound sending shivers down Simon's spine. "My name isn't Wilhelm right now, baby," it replied. Simon hesitated, unsure of how to address his captor. "Sir," he finally managed to utter, his voice barely audible.
"Good boy, Simon," the masked man traced a finger down Simon's back, stopping at his bum, “My love.”
The masked man's hands grabbed into his shirt and ripped it off. Leaving him bare and vulnerable.
“Such a slut, My love,” A hand ran down his back and clipped his butt, “wiggling your butt all sinful as you're crawling away from a killer, you were just begging to be fucked, weren't you?”
Wilhelm pulls down his own pants, shoving them to the ground along with his underwear. The curly haired boy hears the sound of something squirting and opens his eyes to see Wilhelm tossing away a bottle of lube.
“Spread for me, my love,” Wilhelm demands, “let me see you.”
As if an automatic response Simon spreads his legs wider, pushing his ass up, letting Wilhelm get the perfect view of his hole. Wilhelm groans, heat coiling inside of him.
“Sir pleas- Ah~!” Simon's plea was interrupted by a loud moan that forced it's way out of his mouth as a wet finger dragged across his hole before getting swallowed up by his hole. The curly haired boy let out small pleasured moans and mewls as Wilhelm's finger pushed deeper, drawing out every little bit before pushing back in. Soon one finger evolved into two fingers
“Good slut,” Ghostface praised him, “So eager for me, taking my fingers so well. You feel so tight. Gonna fuck you so good.”
The scissoring of fingers while just barely brushing his prostate was driving Simon crazy. His body was on fire, senses only heightened by the fear and Adeline in his veins. Strong fingers pushed past resistance, Simon pushing back against the fingers. Simon wasn't nearly as stretched enough as Wilhelm drew his fingers back.
Simon whined. “Patience, My Little slut,” Wilhelm reprimanded, “You'll get what you want.” As he dragged his cock across Simon's hole. Simon felt so needy, so empty. It should have been embarrassing but it wasn't. He needed Wilhelm. Suddenly he felt a larger force pushing against his hole. Simon cried out as Wilhelm's length began to bully its way into Simon, splitting him open. He felt so full, he'd never get used to the first stretch. It was overwhelming. Heat pooled in his belly.
“Wille ahh~ its too big, I can't-”
“Shh, you can, my love, you've taken me before,” the older grunted out, still Wilhelm's voice helped to calm the curly haired angel down, “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“Don't stop!” The curly haired boy cried, he wanted to feel full, he loved Wilhelm being so hard inside him. He surrendered himself completely to Wilhelm, going limp as he felt himself cum and Wilhelm suddenly slammed directly into his prostate, the pace brutal. Wilhelm fucked him hard and fast through his first orgasm.
“So easy, my love,” His killer taunted, “Just for anybody to use.”
Wilhelm's length was fully seated inside Simon. His velvety insides surrounding the ex-prince's cock. The boy beneath him trembled as he came, pulsing around Wilhelm. The masked boy had to grit his teeth, he didn't want this to end. Not yet. He slammed into the boy repeatedly. Taking more and more from the trembling male as his ass clenched around him.
Wilhelm stood behind Simon, his grip tightening on the other boy's hair. He yanked Simon's head back, forcing him to look at his reflection in the mirror. Terror and arousal were etched on Simon's face, a stark contrast that sent a thrill through Wilhelm. "Look how pretty you are, my love," he whispered, his voice a dangerous mix of tenderness and menace. As Simon gazed at his own reflection, he couldn't help but be captivated by the intensity of his emotions. He was a victim, a prisoner, yet he was also a willing participant in this twisted game. He looks debauched, pliant in Wilhelm's treatment. His face is flushed, mouth agape with his drool pouring at the side as his young hangs out, eyes rolling back with tears slipping out every so often from the rough treatment. It only serves to drive Wilhelm insane.
“Coming on my cock like a good whore,” Wilhelm Wilhelm snapped his hips faster and Simon felt pleasure begin to build, his cock trying to come back up, “Taking me so well. My good slut. Squeezing me just right, God you're so tight even after you've cum, my love.”
Wilhelm pulled Simon by the hair almost completely to his chest, the angle changing so he was fucking up even deeper into Simon.
“Haa~ ah~” Simon's little noises and moans drove Wilhelm to the point of obsession, he need to fuck them out of the boy, “ah~ Wil- ah~ plea- mhmm~” the boy couldn't get out even a complete sentences, he was lost in painful pleasure, Ghostface taking him roughly.
Wilhelm moved his hands to rip off the mask, the hands going to clutch at the smaller boy's waist, pulling him closer, helping him slam his hips against Wilhelm's thick cock. He kissed and nipped at Simon's golden skin, loving how he felt him shiver underneath him with each well placed thrust.
Wilhelm felt heat wrap around him, his own orgasm ripping through him as Simon clenched tighter purposely around him, as if trying to drain him. He couldn't help it, he was too close to that beautifully marked up neck, he bit in as he came. Simon arches against him, his second orgasm sending shockwaves through him as the pain in the juncture between his neck and his shoulder mixed with pleasure pushed him overboard, cum painting the counter and his belly. His eyes rolled back as he felt hot cum inside of him, “Mfmfm~”
Wilhelm panted as he fucked into the boy, letting him ride out his orgasm. His thrusts slowed down. Slowly coming to a stop, he let Simon down gently, letting the boy rest against the counter as his insides fluttered as if protesting Wilhelm's very welcomed reaction. Wilhelm locked over the bite mark as if to soothe him, placing a gentle kiss on the boy's neck as an apology.
Simon leaned against the counter, his body heavy with exhaustion. He let Wilhelm pull out, his muscles aching with a pleasant soreness. Wilhelm began to clean them both up, his gentle touch soothing Simon's frayed nerves. The masked figure tossed the mask aside, revealing Wilhelm's familiar face. He scooped Simon up in his arms, kissing his forehead tenderly. "You did so well, my love," he praised. "You were so good. It's okay. You're safe now."
Wilhelm carried Simon to the mattress, his arms strong and comforting. As he laid Simon down, he couldn't help but admire the other boy's flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. He had never seen Simon so vulnerable, so beautiful.
A sense of peace washed over Simon as he nestled into Wilhelm's embrace. He was safe, loved, and completely at ease. The fear and anxiety he had felt earlier had faded away, replaced by a sense of contentment. He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep, knowing that Wilhelm would always be there to protect him.
Wilhelm cuddled Simon, making sure he was comfortable. He smoothed back the curly hair, a soft smile playing on his lips. He knew the night had been intense, a mix of fear, desire, and dominance. But he also knew that Simon had enjoyed it, as twisted as it may have been.
As he sat up on the edge of the bed, watching Simon sleep, a sense of contentment washed over him. He had protected Simon, he had claimed him. And in that moment, he felt a profound sense of love and possessiveness for the smaller boy. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Simon's forehead. "Sleep well, my love," he whispered, before turning off the light and leaving to clean the bathroom.