Calling Him By My Name [Armie Hammer + Timothée Chalamet | Charmie | mxb]

16 | Timothée

There is absolutely no good reason whatsoever for me to be watching gay porn right now.

I could be doing housework or calling Ansel like I promised - or watching straight porn, for that matter.

But Armie went upstairs to shower and I planned on pranking him by having a really hot, full homo porno playing out on his massive TV screen when he comes downstairs. It would be safe, too, since Liz called to apologetically inform us that her hangout plans with the girls have extended into a sleepover and she won't be home until tomorrow morning.

What I wasn't counting on was actually getting caught up in the show.

Armie finds me sitting cross-legged on the couch with my hand mechanically shovelling chips into my mouth, chewing on autopilot, eyes solemn and wide, utterly entranced by the man-on-man action unfolding on the screen.

"I wanna do this with you, Armie," I breathe in wonder, pointing to the screen that I'm unable to tear my eyes from. "Can we try it, please?"

But almost as soon as the thought occurs to me, I realize sadly that Goliath will never fit inside me. So I guess that's another hope that will never come to fruition.

"Very funny," Armie chuckles, leaning down to rummage through the cupboards. "Have you seen my controller? Figured we could stay up and play video games or something, since Liz ditched us."

He's not even fazed by the porn, so jokes on me, I guess. Damn.

And now I've got this itch I can't scratch. I need to feel close to him; I need to feel him in the central core of my body, my most intimate place. Such is the nature of the intimate friendship between us, yeah, but this feels different, somehow. This feels...burning. I don't know anything about this brand new need, except that it's dire.

Lucky for me, Armie always gives me what I want. Such a henpecked husband.

"Found it," he exclaims, finally producing the controller and switching off the porno to set up the game.

"Daddy," I start, clambering onto his lap when he settles down on the couch next to me.

"Baby boy." Armie barely spares me a glance before resuming his game.

I try to block his view, but he just leans around me, biting his lip in concentration as he expertly twists and angles the confounded device from side to side. Okay, then. I duck under his shirt, mouth latching onto one of his nipples, and suck. He just looks down through the collar and kisses my head before refocusing his attention back to the screen. So I bite down, hard enough to make him start and clutch my back through his shirt in surprise.

"Ow, baby, don't do that." Armie clenches his teeth, wincing. "Why do you keep hurting the man you love?"

I give him a skin-flaying glare.

"I can't help that I kick you in my sleep, dickface, so get over it. And that you deserved."

I try to take his shirt off, but he stays my fumbling hands and plants a brief kiss to my shoulder. Scowling, I slump against him in defeat.

"Why not?" I whine. "Would it be a blow to your manly dudebro machismo-"

"Shush, T. Grab a controller and join in or shut up; I'm getting killed because of you."