ALPHA || TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET

053

I am fumbling with the key. Behind me, Timmy's hands are on my hips as he kisses the nape of my neck. The key goes into the lock and turns. I switch the light on inside.

I haven't yet dropped my bag when I am spun around at the waist. We are kissing and kissing and kissing until I've ended up backed to the wall, simultaneously pulling off my jacket and kicking off my shoes. My tongue is in his mouth and my fingers tug the collar of his shirt, managing to undo several buttons while he finishes the job himself, until his warm bare skin envelops me, his shoulders taut. I catch the furrow of his brows as he moves to my neck, firm hands gliding up and down my back, his curls tickling my skin. My arm flies up to the bedroom doorframe, steadying myself as his lips work my neck and collarbone. My eyes shut, and I release a sigh, my heart racing, his breath heavy.

We stumble into the bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the bed, his hands never leaving my body. He tugs and pulls at the fabric on my waist. Standing between his legs I hold his face in my hands and kiss every inch of it, my fingers threading his hair, the aura turning fiery with each second. I feel his smile against my mouth. He releases delicate giggles that I reciprocate.

I'm sliding my dress straps from my shoulders, but he is pulling it up from below. We giggle and awkwardly fumble with my clothing until he pulls it up off my shoulders, his hands grazing my bare skin like tiny electric bolts. I push him to the bed and he pulls me with him, his body electric and hands grasping all over me. My hands are at his jaw as I kiss him, his arms reaching under mine and his hands in my hair. I release gentle giggles into his mouth. I can't control the smile stretching ear to ear. He finishes kicking off his pants, just in his boxers, kissing me with fervor.

My hand reaches down to his groin, and he winces under me. "Oh, fuck." It is unbelievably arousing. I feel him collapse under me like putty, his face in the nape of my neck, occasionally biting at my ear.

"Fuck," he groans, erect, his hands clawing at my back, fiddling with the clasp of my bra, which I take care of, tossing to the floor as he moves back. I lower myself and slide off his boxer shorts, my tongue and mouth beginning to work in all the ways I know he likes. I watch him melt and feel him wince. I have him wrapped wholly around my finger.

"Come here," he mumbles, pulling me up, his tongue in my mouth as he gently moves me under him. He is starry eyed, breath warm and heavy, and I claw at his shoulder blades. He begins to kiss down my neck, lips at my collarbone, fingers drawing circles over my breasts as he kisses his way down my chest and stomach, tugging off my underwear. He scoops my legs over his shoulders, his lips to my inner thighs until his face is between my legs, his tongue beginning to flit, and I am wincing, euphoric lightning shooting up my body and releasing from my throat in tiny moans. "Fuck... Right – oh fuck, right there, right there..."

Once on top of me again, he mumbles between his breaths, "Can I fuck you now?"

We are giggling and panting and breathing, and he is everywhere, all over me. My hands are in his hair, my face in his neck. When he finally enters me, his curls bounce with his thrusts, open mouth near my jaw. The thin gold chain around his neck tickles my skin. My legs wrap around his waist as I feel him constrict and thrust and wince and moan over me. My hands grip and claw at his back, gasping over his shoulder, covered in every inch of each other, bodies incandescent.

Then I am above him, hips grinding and his hands firm at my hips, watching him surrender under me as he pants into my ear, his nails digging into my skin as he grunts. "Oh, god, fuck." He pulls me into his lap, sitting up, lips exploring my chest and shoulders, my hands at his neck, thrusting, jerking, panting, moaning.

He finishes, and I collapse next to him, leg slung over his waist. Catching my breath, I look to see his head cocked back and his chest heaving up and down, the aftermath of a tiny death. The corners of his mouth lift across his cheeks. My fingers brush against his temple and lift sweaty curls from his forehead.

"How's that for your last night," he says. I cover his face in kisses, helplessly and inescapably enamored.

In the shower we wash each other's hair, playfully, giggling despite exhausted limbs. His soapy hands massage my shoulders and back, his appearance more brooding with his hair wet. My arms circle his waist and meet at his back, my lips meeting his shoulder. His fingers graze my wet hair with delicacy, and I feel his shoulders tighten.

"I wish it wasn't time yet," I mumble.

"I know," he responds.

***

I place tonight's dress and undergarments in a mesh laundry bag with the rest of my used clothes, securing belongings in my open suitcase. Timmy sits behind me on the bed, shirtless and in boxers. His hair is still damp and his shoulders sit in their usual sunken posture, but with a more evident fatigue.

"You mostly set?" he attempts at a display of ease. He smiles with his mouth closed, shoulder slumped, hands folded in his lap.

I climb next to him, crossing my legs and facing his side, meeting his false grin. I shake my head. He nods. I kiss his shoulder and rest my gaze on the sheets. It is the most melancholy of silences, a bittersweet scent as reality sinks its teeth in.

I search his face, studying the freckles across his fair complexion, warm with the room lighting. His eyes are fixed on our clutched hands, his lashes fluttering, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I like to think I'm good with words," I start. "But it's only when I write." His eyes finally meet mine.

"I just think..." I begin again. "I just think that I might not ever have the words..."

He brings our clasped hands to shoulder height, kissing mine and keeping it at his lips, nodding, understanding.

"I love who I am with you," I say. "I love who I am growing to be. And I love you."

He tilts his head before his lips press against mine, mouths together like a secret language. His hand pushes on the back of my head as he kisses me again and again like we are melting. My face is in his hands like I'm made of glass.

"You are the most angelic thing I've ever known." He kisses me again.

We fall asleep facing each other, our hands clasped between us. When morning breaks and my eyelids peer apart, I am holding him like the big spoon. I pull myself further into him and shut my eyes for a while longer.