Fics like Popcorn

And Wilhelm is already imagining asking the man for his number. Sitting across from him at a dimly lit restaurant table, walking him home under the streetlights of Stockholm. And maybe, as they approached his door, leaning in to nose that downright delicious looking skin right beneath his jaw. He imagines just what the other man might smell like, how soft his lips would feel when he finally leans closer to let them touch his own, how they might taste. Imagines the sigh the man might make as Wilhelm reaches his hand up and around to tentatively secure his hand in those perfect curls. Get a grip, Wille. He is shocked at the intimate thoughts he's having about this perfect stranger. Wille really needs to get laid. Like, yesterday, if we're going off of a how-likely-are-you-to-start-fantasizing-about-a-customer-you-just-met scale. or Wilhelm is working at the local cinema when he spots the most beautiful man he's ever seen. He just doesn't know how to approach him properly. Queer pining ensues.

Fics like Popcorn

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