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

37 | Armie

"Armie..."

My baby wakes up with my name on his lips, spoken softly like a question or a prayer or a reassurance to himself, like the sweetest good morning. It's one of the most endearing habits of his that I've missed. It makes me dare to hope that I was as close to him in his dreams as I was all night in bed, holding him tight like he could disappear again at any moment.

But he's still here, in the light of dawn on our first morning in Italy. We arrived yesterday, well in advance of the scheduled start of filming, to the oasis Luca prepared for us. We're going to be working on the sequel, but before that we'll be enjoying an quiet, intimate reprieve from the prying eyes of America.

Presently, Timmy is buried under the covers with nothing but the very top of his curls exposed.

"Good morning, sunshine," I croon hoarsely. My sleepy bunny peeks his head out from under the covers. "You all toasty and warm under there?"

The sweetest of smiles answers my question, plush red lips and thick, long lashes giving him a boyish beauty that is more radiant than ever in the early hours of the morning. He was exhausted after our trip and fell right asleep when we arrived last night, in spite of the time difference. I awoke before him this morning, feeling jet-lagged but wrapped in a perfect cotton candy happiness.

I sit on the edge of the bed and reach out to stroke my darling's fluffy hair. It grows so fast; I love it when it's thick and longish like a cloud around his head. Timmy rolls over, smiling with his eyes closed. A hand lands smack on my crotch, grasping my balls through my boxers. I fight the twitch in my lips but can't suppress a grin at my baby boy's eagerness. That's another thing I've missed, his wholehearted dedication and attachment to Goliath and co.

"When you grope me like that, it makes me wonder if you only like me for my balls."

Timmy fixes this by reaching higher and cupping my clothed dick - and this time I have to laugh out loud. "Okay, Goliath too. Point taken."

Timmy is so sleepy. I slide in next to him and press gentle butterfly kisses across his face, smoothing his unruly hair back from his face as he falls asleep once more.

After long periods of serene silence, he mewls and whines softly, pushing unconsciously against me. "Shh, so needy," I tut. Timmy yawns and smacks his lips, absently shimmying closer so he can tuck his cheek against my bare pec. What a babe. I blow into his hair and kiss the top of his head, smoothing my hand across the bumpy ridges of his spine. 

"You're the love of my life," I whisper fondly, caressing the sleeping boy's cheek adoringly. Exactly as you are. Innocent, aloof, vulnerable, needy, clingy... I touch my lips after the fact, marvelling. A slight stirring has me looking back down at my boy, whose back is arching under my fingertips. I smooch his head and keep stroking his back, other arm splayed lazily on the bed. "I love you so much..."

It's like they say. I didn't know love until it ripped apart my heart and almost destroyed me. I thought I did, with Liz. But I didn't. My marriage was all about appearances, normalcy and propriety. This is sheer, reckless abandon, something wild and untameable, hiding away from the world to protect something so precious. The intensity of what I feel for Timmy is paradoxical. It's crippling and freeing, desperate anguish and exhilarating freedom; it holds the power to kill me and give me life.

It's the realest thing I've ever felt. 

I finally understand what it's supposed to be like; how I could lay down my life in a heartbeat for him, do crazy things to keep him safe. I'm not even sure I was alive until this, until right now with Timmy ensconced in my arms and fluffy blankets, splayed across my body.