Jesper's babbling pours over Wilhelm as he fills his mouth with him. Raw and lurid, it should embarrass him, but drenched in charm, Jesper somehow transforms every word into something silky and sweet, electric and exciting.

It pins him to the present, too, with the reminder that this isn't Simon tensing and twisting beneath him. Closing his eyes would be easy enough. Imagining it were him sharing this bed — his hard heat cradled in Wilhelm's mouth like it's sacred, his fingers woven in his hair where they belong. But that isn't fair to any of them. Simon, who remains untouchable in his memory. Jesper, who's working so hard at distracting him. His own heart.

Lacking practice, Wilhelm can't accommodate every inch. He stops when he feels Jesper's cock press against the back of his tongue, nudge against the opening of his throat. What he can't fit in his mouth, he keeps stroking as he pulls back and slides down again. But there's evidence he's done this before: he's careful not to scrape his teeth along Jesper's length, creating a cushion with his lips and tongue.

Eager to discover what will snatch Jesper's breath away, he experiments with the rhythm. He pulls his mouth off slowly, squeezing him in the hot cinch of tongue and cheeks, then plunges down all at once. He slurps at his head, lapping at the underside and tracing circles with his tongue. He angles himself to guide Jesper's cock into the soft hold of his cheek, letting it create a visible bulge in the side of his mouth.

And at each shift, he measures Jesper through long lashes. He watches for stars.