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“Je vais te détruire.”
Armie fucking loves it when he speaks French.
“I don’t know what that means,” Armie says, “but I’ve missed your voice.”
“Is that all you’ve missed?” Timothée asks.
It’s the first time they’ve been together like this since Armie’s divorce. They’re lying on a king-sized bed, turned towards their sides to face each other while they sip on drinks.
When Armie found out that Timmy was in town, he skipped the second leg of his flight back to Los Angeles and found an excuse to see him.
Timothée looks just as amazing tonight as he did the last time that Armie saw him. He’s almost impossibly skinny, perhaps only 130 pounds, and yet he never looks malnourished or anything less than breathtakingly attractive, the owner of the perfect submissive twink body, though Armie knows better at this point than to fall for that innocent façade.
Timmy looks especially cozy tonight dressed in a baggy wool pullover and some sweatpants, and his long, flowing locks of brunette hair are already disheveled, leaving Armie to wonder what he was up to before coming over.
“I might have missed some other things,” Armie says, leaning over to kiss Timmy. He’s not sure why, but he feels a tinge of nervousness, at least until his lips press against Timothée’s.
He’s missed the touch of these soft lips, always supple and wet, but more than that he misses the way that Timmy kisses. It always begins with a few tender pecks, patient and seductive in a way that’s so different than what Armie’s experienced with anyone else, but before long the kissing evolves into something more aggressive, even sloppy, with lots of tongue and saliva, and yet it still feels passionate, and as you finally begin to realize that he’s lured you into his trap you start to fight back with your tongue, but it’s already too late: he’s in control.
“Oh, I think I can think of a few things you’ve missed…kitten.”
Armie’s cock bulges at the word.
“I always knew that if I got divorced it would be because of you,” Armie says.
“Yeah? I bet you imagined it might play out a bit differently, though.”
He’s right.
Kitten. The word sends chills down his spine and blood rushing to his cock. Timothée had taught him how the word was meant to be used. Whispered it in Armie’s ear the first time that he’d taken control, while Armie was being split in two by his cock.
Armie had never been into the fluffy language of domination before then. He understood the appeal of degrading someone with such soft, intimate words, but something about it just didn’t fit his mode of domination.
At least, not until Timmy. Hearing Timmy whisper the word for the first time as he licked the inside of Armie’s ear and pushed his cock deeper into Armie’s virgin ass instantly erased a lifetime of dominance.
Kitten. He was taunting Armie. Not only because he knew it was the word that he whispered in Armie’s ear when he turned him out for the first time, but also because of the divorce.
Armie had been cheating on his wife with his fans for years. He’d finally been caught when the messages leaked to the press: Thank you kitten! It is great to be back. My wife is not with me or else I’d have you come meet me, plug in and hungry for daddy.
“If it makes you feel any better, I found the leaked messages entertaining.” Timothée says. “Though I have to say, even when you’re dominating women you kind of sound like a complete pussy. Armie Hammer. What a waste of the perfect dominant porn star name.”
“Fuck you,” Armie whispers.
Timothée slaps him across the face, but before Armie can even react, Timmy leans in and kisses him again. He’s more passionate this time, sucking on Armie’s lower lip and then capturing it between his teeth as he breathes, “What’d you say to me?”
Armie doesn’t say a word, just remains motionless as he breathes into Timmy’s open mouth.
“That’s what I thought,” Timothée says as he bites down on Armie’s lip hard enough to draw blood, prompting Armie to let out a guttural moan.
“Did you tell her that I taught you how to use that word?”
Armie moans quietly as Timmy nibbles on his lips between words.
“All of these dirty videos on my phone of you on your back taking my cock, and she divorces you for cheating on her with another woman. What are the chances?”
Armie had fantasized that she would walk in one day and discover them, the six-foot-five-inch god among men on his hands and knees taking it up the ass from an underweight twink.
“Je vais te détruire.”
“Oh, fuck,” Armie moans. The French again.
“It means: I’m going to destroy you.”
Timothée pushes Armie back against the bed and proceeds to strip of his clothes in between kisses. First, he removes Armie’s fitted wool shirt, revealing a well-groomed chest landscape with hair in all of the right places, between his pecs and around his nipples and leading down from his belly button into his pants. His chest is already glistening with sweat as Timothée begins to kiss his nipples, causing him to buck and moan in ecstasy.
As Timmy nibbles and sucks and kisses the sensitive nubs, he undoes the button on the front of Armie’s jeans and pulls them down his legs, leaving Armie naked except for his underwear.
Armie is a paragon of masculinity in his tight, white Calvin Klein briefs. He’s always been vain enough to carefully consider how his body looks in all stages of undress and elected to wear form-fitting boxer briefs or trunks rather than the lazy-DGAF boxer look that Timmy prefers for himself. But even for Armie, white briefs never felt quite right, they were perhaps a tad too sexual and revealing, but then Timmy had told him he should wear them, and so he did.
Armie wasn’t sure if his other sexual partners liked him them or not, suspected that in their eyes the underwear might have detracted from his masculinity, but that was okay because Timmy’s opinion was the only one that mattered.
The underwear leave nothing to the imagination. The naked eye can easily make out every detail of his engorged genitals, from the outliner of his over-sized ball sac to the hefty mushroom head, which has already deposited a wet spot of semen on the cotton of the underwear.
Timmy licks the outline of his cock through the cotton, playfully placing kisses along the shaft beginning at the base and working his way up to the head of Armie’s penis.
And then Timothée slips his long, elegant fingers beneath the white elastic waistband and slides the final scant piece of clothing down Armie’s legs and drops them to the floor.
Armie has realized that this is another kink of Timmy’s. In public, he has no qualms walking around shirtless or in a bathing suit, but in the bedroom, he loves to undress his partner completely, leaving them naked and exposed while he remains fully clothed.
One last kiss on the lips, and then Timothée whispers, “Show me your hole.”
And dutifully, just as he’s done a hundred times before, Armie lifts his legs above his head and parts his cheeks to put every intimate crevice of his body on display.
Timmy slides his cracked phone out of his pocket and Armie hears a camera shutter.
Armie imagines what he must look like in the picture that was just taken: laid out on his back, legs pulled up and locked behind his head with a hard, thick, seven-inch slab of meat leaking semen on his belly—a considerable penis but thoroughly unimpressive on his Greek God of a body—his ass spread white open to display his hairy pink hole. Every inch of Armie Hammer and his sex on humiliating and submissive display.
Timmy always takes pictures and records videos of him, but he’s never shared any of them with Armie. Armie wonders what he does with all of them. Does he masturbate to them when he’s all alone? Doubtful, since he’s such a sex fiend. Does he share them with others? If he did, surely Armie would have heard about it by now, right? Perhaps he does nothing with them at all, and it’s just the act of taking them that’s important, to assert his dominance over you and your naked body, recorded along with your face and available for Timothée Chalamet to do whatever he wants with, to share with whoever he wants, to ruin your celebrity life with if he pleases.
And now as Armie thinks about it all and the power that Timmy has over him, his cock throbs in ecstasy, spewing fat drops of pre-semen onto his hairy torso for the lens to capture and record alongside whatever other dark secrets are stowed away in Timmy’s camera roll.
Timmy unceremoniously drops his sweatpants to the ground, followed by his pullover.
His skeletal frame stands at the foot of the bed wearing nothing but a pair of loose boxer shorts, barely even clinging to his slender waist, and fuck, Armie thinks to himself—how does he pull this look off?—so lazy as if he doesn’t care, but he does care and he does it on purpose because he knows he looks good like this and that it’s a part of his subtle power play.
Timothée climbs up onto the bed and grabs Armie’s ankles as he sits directly on Armie’s upturned legs, stretching his hamstring muscles as the weight of his body forces Armie’s legs back until they’re flush against his hairy chest, stretching his ass cheeks open even wider.
With one hand, Timothée fishes his flaccid dick out of the opening at the front of his boxers and starts to feed it past Armie’s waiting lips.
Armie takes the soft penis into his mouth and begins to suck on it softly. At the same time, he inhales the smell of Timmy. The combined effect of aroma and flavor is something like salt and sweat and sex, and now Armie knows without a doubt that he isn’t the first person who Timmy has been with tonight and that’s why Timmy isn’t hard already, because he probably came here to this hotel straight after fucking someone else, still in his refractory period though his cock is starting to grow hard in Armie’s mouth now, and so Armie is feeding on sloppy seconds, tasting someone else on Timmy’s shaft, the mystery person’s dried saliva and maybe event the inside of their body, and the thought of himself being just another one of Timmy’s boys makes him even harder and his cock throbs again, spewing fresh drops of warm semen onto his stomach.
Timothée starts to fuck his mouth hard, grabbing both of Armie’s ankles, and pushing them back past even his head and Armie knows he’ll be sore in the morning, but fuck this is so hot being folded in two and mouth-fucked by Timothée’s skinny little twink ass.
Before he knows it, Timmy is bottoming out against his lips, and Armie can feel the cotton of his boxers and errant pubic hairs which have wandered out of the front of Timmy’s boxers to tickle his mouth. Armie’s gagging and spit is pouring out of the corners of his mouth as he looks up at Timmy, whose eyes are now closed and facing towards the ceiling as he fucks mouth.
Only when Armie is on the verge of passing out, lips swollen and bruised, does Timothée stop fucking mouth and pull out to slide his boxers off his slender frame.
“Je vais te détruire.”
I’m going to destroy you. And suddenly Armie begins to wonder if that’s even proper French, but fuck it sounds so fucking hot when Timmy whispers it.
Timmy lines his dripping cock up with Armie’s ass and slaps his hairy hole with it.
“That’s it, make it wink for me,” Timmy says.
Armie moans as Timmy pushes the mushroom head past his rim. The penis is so big, so much bigger than you would expect, and he loves being filled by it, being stretched by Timmy and his tiny twink frame, knowing that he’s taking more cock than he himself can give, his seven-inch cock outmatched by the meat on this little 5’10’’ package of fuckboy.
And then Timmy’s hands are on his ankles again, but this time they’re pushing them back into the mattress and Timmy lies prone on top of Armie’s body, folded in half.
“Did you tell your wife that I gave her chlamydia?”
And Armie knows immediately what Timothée is implying. That he’s acknowledging the recent articles in the news about him “fucking like a rabbit” when he attended Columbia University, inadvertently spreading the disease around to the girls there, and even though he and Timothée have never even talked about the rumors, he knew after reading them for the first time that they were true and that he had taken it from Timmy and given it to his wife.
And it’s disgusting, but all Armie can do is whine with pleasure.
Timothée starts to fuck in and out of Armie’s hole, now wet and loose and sloppy and making squirting sounds as it futilely tries to tighten around the huge cock. Save for the huge balls slapping against his cheeks, Timmy is like a flattened plank of wood spanking Armie’s ass with each descent, leaving red imprints on his ass cheeks with his bony pelvis.
Armie is lost in ecstasy as Timmy sucks blood-red hickeys on his neck, leaving his mark. His hands wrap around Armie’s nipples and rub and pluck and then viciously twist his nipples until they’re swollen and bruised. Finally, both of his hands wrap around Armie’s neck and starts to squeeze and as the breath leaves Armie’s body, Timmy leans in and whispers in his ear:
“Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio…”
And it’s the only romantic moment of the night, but at least it’s the right moment, and Armie can feel Timothée spraying his insides with cum, and the wet fucking sounds turn to something viscous, shot after shot until his hole begins to overflow and the warm goo spills out around Timmy’s shaft as it finally comes to rest inside Armie’s ass.