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

20 | Timothée

"I wanna go to nighty - hic - night right here..."

Armie chuckles and picks my stumbling frame off of his lawn.

"Come on, sweetheart." He guides me into the house with a warm, tender hand on my backside. "Let's get you in bed."

"Mm," I complain, too dizzy to stand upright. "You're so hot, Armie. You're a hunk. I bet you could bench press me."

Armie laughs and nuzzles my cheek, pressing a sweet kiss to my feverish skin.

"Maybe when you're sober." He pushes my hair off my forehead and I give him a delirious smile.

"Babe, get him to a toilet," Liz calls, locking the car and rushing after us.

She and Armie help me upstairs to the bathroom, where I throw up twice.

As soon as my head hits the pillow, I pass out.

•••

I'm awoken from a dreamless sleep when a tall, lithe form slips into the room, shrouded in darkness. The pale beams of moonlight accentuate a handsome face that I'd recognize anywhere.

"Hey, beautiful." Armie is all muscle and golden hair, barefoot with a worn pair of sweatpants slung low on shapely hips.

My lips twitch in a sleepy smile as his body crowds against mine, smelling distantly of my favourite Armani cologne.

"Hey, handsome," I croak softly. "What're you doing up?"

The bed dips as Armie slides in between my open, inviting legs, our bodies meeting, coiling around each other, tightly pressed and sharing heat. The skin on skin has me heaving out a stuttered sigh, fingers seeking purchase in Armie's thick locks.

"Couldn't sleep. Hot as nine hells in my room, since Liz always keeps the window open."

"Aww," I chuckle quietly, throat hoarse with grogginess. "Poor boo."

My fingers stroke his soft, scented hair as he noses in behind my ear.

"Whatever. I couldn't sleep anyway. I dunno, just not tired."

Which is fine by me. Naked cuddling with Armie is the best; I like staying up way too late talking in hushed, dulcet tones with him, fingers stroking gently through hair, across bare skin. I like the solid warmth of his lean, muscled body. I like his manly smell and the scratch of his body hair against my skin. I like the way he nuzzles his face against my neck and smooths his hands across my slim chest. I like his long, wispy eyelashes and sun-kissed skin. I like the firm weight of him bearing me against the mattress, dwarfing my own slimmer form and cocooning me in soporific heat.

I melt like hot clay in his arms, like always. Our murmured voices lapse into sporadic bouts of hushed laughter here and there when Armie seeks out my weak spots and tickles me for no good reason whatsoever. Then we fall quiet again, just gazing at each other in the darkness, limbs entwined and hands smoothing gently over hot expanses of bared skin.

"Remind me to buy cherries for tomorrow," I yawn, nuzzling into a scruffy cheek.

"Mmh. Why cherries," Armie inquires sleepily.