Forbidden Fruit •Timothee Chalamet (Stepbrother)

53.Crossing all the lines

(Warning:smut,sexual content, violence, gore,sensitive subject material.)
*This chapter deals with heavy and triggering subjects and situations. I strongly advise you to read with caution if you are easily triggered.*

The sun peeks through the window and I sink further into the hotel bed, surrounded by the smell of freshly laundered sheets. As soon as I start to wake up, the gravity of Timothée and I's actions fully set in and I find myself facing the aftermath. Timothée rolls over beside me, wearing only his boxers. He's seems unfazed about the situation, as if we hadn't just crossed a major line.

"You feel guilty, don't you?" Timothée asks me in a soft sleepy voice, his leg brushing against mine as he rubs his eyes. The weight of what we did sit's heavily on my conscience and I'm not sure how to hide that.

"Don't you? I ask with my head still on the pillow while I face him. He pulls me closer to him, and I look at him, taken aback by his lack of remorse.

"Not really." He responds nonchalantly, leaving me baffled by his unbothered attitude.

"I had you first. Ansel took you away from me. Let's not forget the facts. He had this coming." He speaks with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"You don't feel bad for Grace?" I question him.

"Grace knows the kind of guy I am. I've been honest with her. Monogamy doesn't really fit into the type of life..I lead." He says bluntly, implying his involvement in the cult.

"So you cheat on her? Is this just a regular thing for you?" I raise an eyebrow, disturbed by the idea.

"Yes, I cheat on her." He responds truthfully, his eyes glued to the ceiling.

"Because being monogamous is frowned upon in the cult? Or because...?" My voice trembled with uncertainty, unsure if I'm ready for the answer.

"Because of the cult, and sometimes for my own personal pleasure, I guess." He answers coolly, almost detached. It's unsettling, making me fearful that this is just standard behavior for him.

"So...that therapist was right. You're a sex addict," I say, unable to suppress a bitter smile, feeling disgusted by the thought of him with other women.

"If you must use labels, probably." He replies matter-of-factly. His brutal honesty only makes me feel even worse about the situation. He notices the distress in my expression when he turns to me, and he stands up from the bed.

"Take a shower with me. Like we used to." He suggests, but my arms remain crossed, my unhappiness etched on my face.

"What's the point? We aren't like we used to be, are we?" I respond, avoiding his gaze.

"Amelia, Don't be like this please. I'll wash your hair for you. The way you always liked." His proposition almost irresistible.

"Fine." I say with a sigh as I get up. " But I get to control the water temperature." I demand. " It was always too cold when I showered with you."

"That's not true." He says playfully. "The temperature I like is normal. You just like your showers to feel like the pits of hell."

⋆｡°✩ ˚

I step into the spacious shower, my feet rubbing against the stone floors with Timothée close behind me. Despite us just having sex again, I am filled with insecurity. The thought of him and all the other beautiful he regularly has sex with makes me feel more vulnerable as I'm completely naked before him. He stands under the running water with me, the flowing stream hitting us both.