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Call Me By Your Name premier, Paris, January 2018: The warning look that Armie gave him – that everyone saw him give him - couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. A warning. Timmy... don’t you dare take off that damn jacket. There will be consequences. For both of us.
Timmy took off the jacket...
The night before:
“You don’t know what you're asking. Put it down.”
Timmy huffed out a laugh and shook his head then continued to slowly wind the length of red silk rope round and around his left forearm. “How long is this thing anyway?”
“Thirty-two feet. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“It's not even midnight. How long does it take to... you know... string me up or whatnot?” He seemed momentarily mesmerised by the tight silky threads pressing into his pale skin.
Armie turned away and poured himself a rum from the mini bar. This situation was becoming more challenging by the hour. They’d only been in Paris since lunchtime and already his irrepressible co-star had publicly activated ‘French-Timmy’ mode. Ooh-la-fucking-la indeed. The accent, the hand-gestures, the hair-tucking - it was intoxicating. But it was also making life very difficult – and they had months of this ahead of them!
“There will be no stringing up tonight. You’re dabbling in things you know nothing about.”
"Teach me then. Go on. Here...” Tim took a step closer, his arm outstretched. The loose end of the rope swayed back and forth from his slender wrist. He twirled it around a little, just in case Armie hadn’t quite got the message.
Armie glanced over his shoulder as he plopped a single ice-cube into his glass. “Last chance Chalamet. You’d best go to your room, or...”
“Or what?” He strode over to the taller man and, using both hands, looped the rope over his head and around his throat. And pulled. “You’re not getting all shy on me Hammer, are you?” he whispered in his ear. “We’ve practically fucked, remember?”
“On film Timmy, on film! Jesus, you’re strangling me. Get this damn thing off my...”
Timmy spun him around and swooped in for a kiss. He pulled the rope tighter and moaned as he pushed his tongue inside Armie’s mouth.
Armie kissed him back for a second... two... three... then shoved him away. “Will you get off me! For Christ's sake Timmy, we’re not in Crema now. Get a grip.” He unhooked the rope from around his neck and tossed it onto the floor.
Tim threw himself backwards dramatically on the bed and pouted. “Spoilsport!” Then he just as quickly sat back up again. “You’re hard. I can tell. And don’t say you’re not because I’ve seen your dick enough times to know when there’s something going on...” he twirled his finger in the general direction of Armie’s crotch. “...down there.”
He was right – Armie’s swollen cock throbbed in the confines of his tight jeans. He picked up his glass, downed his drink in a oner and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He could still taste Timmy.
What would be the harm? It was just a basic shibari tutorial, right? It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been up-close-and-personal many times before. Harmless fun between bros. Nothing more. But no kissing. Definitely no kissing. There was a wife and two babies at home for crying out loud! “Ok then. But don’t say you weren’t warned. I’ve a feeling you might find it a little... claustrophobic.” He went over to the door and clicked the deadbolt.
Timmy fist-pumped the air - “ Yes!” - and started to wiggle out of his Adidas joggers. “Where d’you want me? Here? Or here?” He shuffled around, rearranging himself in different positions against the pile of fancy cushions on the huge bed.
Armie laughed. “You really are something else. Just fucking lay back and relax. If we’re gonna do this, we’re doing it properly. It's all about the build-up, the anticipation, the surrender.” He turned off the bright overhead light and switched on a desk lamp. “You’re twenty-two now. How do you not know anything about...” He almost said, ‘love making.’ Shit!
“I know nothing about the things that matter Armie,” Timmy chuckled and kicked his sweatpants onto the floor. He wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Armie swallowed. He felt anxious. Vulnerable somehow. “I’m just gonna grab a quick shower. Here, drink some water. I’ll be right back.” He tossed over a bottle out of the refrigerator. It came from Bergamo. He took it as a good sign.
Timmy frowned. “Do... I need to shower too?”
Armie took a deep breath and stared at the beautiful boy laid out before him. He was suddenly desperate to taste him again, to smell him – his skin, his hair, his musky armpits. All of him. Just him. Not some hotel-issue soap. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. ”
Timmy grinned and nodded and pulled off his T-shirt. Naked now, he stretched out on his back with his arms draped over his head and stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve missed this. Us.”
“Me too,” whispered Armie. They looked directly at each other then. Their faces broke out into huge beaming smiles and, just-like-that, they were whisked back in time-and-space to a sunny room eighteen months before where, in an instant, eyes had locked, heartbeats quickened, pulses raced, and the whoosh-whoosh-whooshing of blood in their ears was like a spellbinding symphony rivalling the one Timmy had just been rehearsing with his piano teacher.
And for those few precious weeks, it really had just been a friendship. A close one, granted. One where they’d spent hours and hours in each other's company, sometimes with clothes on, more often not. But outside of the actual shoot or perhaps blocking out the logistics of a scene back at their apartments, nothing intimate happened between them. No lines were crossed. Yes, there were lots of in-between-take cuddles and play-fights because Luca preferred for them to stay in character - and there was no denying that even back then, Timmy liked to push boundaries – but nothing more.
Until now. Armie had felt a palpable change since they'd reunited in the departure lounge at LAX yesterday. “Tim...” he breathed. “.. don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He strode into the bathroom and locked the door.
It was possibly the eternally-patronising Gwyneth Paltrow who first championed the three-minute shower, but Armie reckoned he beat that with time to spare – face, pits, bits, and whatever other body parts happened to be in the path of the bubbles on their way down the drain. He was done in two minutes flat, not that for one minute he thought Tim would actually go anywhere.
He quickly towel-dried his hair, pulled on a fresh pair of soft grey boxer shorts and stared at himself face-on in the mirror. Was he really doing this? And what exactly was ‘this’? His wedding ring caught his eye – fuck! He agonised for a second, then sucked his finger and wiggled the tight platinum band off with his teeth and plopped it into the glass alongside his toothbrush. His mother would say he was going to hell for this, but the truth was, he was already there. And had been for a year and a half.
***
“Are you warm enough? I need you to be completely comfortable before we get started.”
Some sort of muscle-memory from hours spent on two small pushed-together beds in a magical villa meant that they had instinctively, and without a moment's hesitation, assumed a familiar position that felt just so natural and right. Armie – not for the first time – contemplated his recent life-choices as he laid back, head and shoulders propped up against the pillows with Timmy tucked firmly under his arm. He’d said he felt cold, so of course this was the best way to warm him up, right?
Timmy played with Armie’s chest hair and traced circles around his nipples. “Can’t we just stay like this for a while longer?” He snuggled in a little closer and touched the faded surgery scar with his fingertip. “Does it still hurt?”
“Only when it rains. Right, come on! Get up, or we’ll both fall asleep if we’re not careful. And then Brian really will have my guts for garters if he thinks you’ve stayed the night in here.” Armie eased his arm out from under a now toasty-warm Timmy and swung his legs onto the floor and reached over for the coil of rope. “Up you get. Unless... you’ve changed your mind?” Insecurity kicked in like it always did.
“No way! Tie me up baby!” Timmy jumped out of bed and went over to the full-length mirror. “Can I stand here? So I can see what’s going on?”
Armie smiled. His eyes sparkled. “Sure. Why not. Let me warm my hands up.” He rubbed his palms together and flexed his fingers. “I’m just gonna turn off the lamp and open the curtains a little. I think it’ll be nice.”
In the ambient light of Paris at midnight, their bodies cast shadows on the walls of the hotel suite.
“What about music?” asked Timmy. He was a fidgety ball of nervous energy.
“No. No music.” Armie walked up behind him and ran his hands down the sides of his neck, over his shoulder blades and down his arms to the tips of his fingers and back up again in what he hoped would be a calming gesture. “I want to hear the sounds that the rope makes, the knots tightening.” He kissed behind Timmy’s ear and whispered, “And you.”
Timmy gasped and shivered. His skin flushed with a million tiny goosebumps. “Yep, just like that,” said Armie with a smile. “Ok, quick question before we start... do you want your arms in or out? I’d hate for you to, you know, panic . I don’t want you to get rope burns or anything.”
“Ooh decisions decisions. Lemme think... in! No, hang on. Out. No...in! Yes definitely in.”
“You sure? In that case, put your arms behind your back, palms up. Lower. That’s it. Ok, so I’m gonna try a version of the Hishi Karada...”
“The itchy what? Wait wait wait! I just need to itch my nose.”
Armie rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, exasperated but also desperate now to do this. “Last chance Chalamet. In fact... hang on a sec. I have an idea. I think it’ll help.” He rummaged in his shoulder bag and brought out a plush, padded eye-mask. It was made of a kitten-soft black velvety fabric. “Perks of first-class travel. Close your eyes.”
“Aw! I wanted to watch,” protested Timmy.
Armie ignored him and wrapped the mask around his eyes and fastened it at the back of his head, careful not to get any of his curls caught in the Velcro. Then he eased his slender naked body back against him and spoke softly, first in one ear - “Shush now. Lean on me... and just let go. ” - then in the other - “ That’s it. Good boy. I’ve got you. You trust me, right?”
Timmy nodded. His cock visibly twitched at ‘good boy’ and his mouth hung open as his breathing deepened.
“Ok, let's begin... I’m gonna get the bight, which is the exact middle of the rope, and tie your hands behind your back with a basic cuff first of all. Not too tight is it?” Timmy shook his head and let his arms go limp. The mask had done the trick and he was instantly compliant. Who knew?
Armie continued. “There’ll be two, what are known as working ends and you’ll feel them coming over your shoulders in a moment. Just so you know what to expect, ok?”
His large hands were steady as he began slowly and methodically tying the strands of crimson rope together. The first knot was just above the handcuff at the small of Timmy’s back, the second between his shoulder blades. Then he moved around to the front where he expertly tied four more evenly spaced knots down his body - the hollow of his throat, his chest, abdomen, groin - before looping the ends between his legs and around the insides of his thighs and over his tiny, smooth behind to finally meet his hands at the small of his back.
“There, that’s the first part done. You ok Tim?”
“Me ok.” Timmy’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. He sounded a little spaced out and his cock was so hard it was practically vertical but somehow, he was managing to stand as still as a statue. Armie was so proud of him. He’d been fully braced for giggling and wiggling and ‘you’re tickling me’ and such like, but no – his little rope-bunny-bottom was being as good as gold. It was a miracle really! And one hell of a confidence booster – he’d only ever practised this particular technique on a mannequin before.
He traced his fingers lightly over each part of Timmy’s body as he explained what was going to happen next. “Now for the pretty bit. Hishi means diamond so I’m gonna bring the rope over your arms, just above your elbows and back around to the front. Then I’ll start to loop the two separate strands through the gaps between the knots of the central column and then wrap them back around your torso to make the shapes. It’ll start to feel a little tighter, so don’t panic. It’ll be worth it. You’re gonna look amazing. Ready? Ok, here goes...”
Timmy let out tiny little moans with every tug of the rope and his smooth, cut cockhead visibly dripped with pre-cum. Armie could feel him shiver under his touch – it was spectacular! But he forced himself to concentrate on the job in hand, only allowing himself one little moment of self-indulgence when he kissed each of Timmy’s peachy arse-cheeks before tying the final knot. His skin felt warm and soft on his lips.
When he was done, he stood back and admired his work – breathtaking. This moment. He wanted it to himself. Just a few seconds. Before the blindfold came off. All to himself, just to take in what was standing in front of him. “Oh Tim. Look at you. You’re... I’m just gonna say it... fucking beautiful!” He unfastened the eye mask.
Timmy blinked and shook out his hair and stared at himself in the mirror. “Oh Armie...” He twisted this way and that, tensing his muscles against the rope. “Man, you’ve got skills! How d’ya learn to do that?”
“Practise I guess,” Armie shrugged. A small smile played on his lips. All previous doubts had gone now. In this moment, nothing else mattered but this, this… Timmy, Timothée, Tim, Him. The way he was instantly compliant, the way he said his name drawing out the Arrr, his perfect body, his openness. Everything. Just when he thought he couldn’t love him anymore...
Timmy spun around and nudged his head against Armie’s chest. “Sorry about the...” he gestured down to his erection. “I didn’t realise this would be so... so...”
“Sensuous?”
Timmy laughed. “Well I was about to say fucking hot but yeah, I guess sensuous will do.”
Armie had a couple of seconds of inner debate before deciding to just come out with it. What did he have to lose now? “Want me to help with that?” He turned Timmy around to face the mirror again, put one hand lightly around his throat and rubbed his soft lips with the pad of his thumb.
“Yes please!” Tim moaned and closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “I really fucking need to come man.” His mouth fell open and Armie slid his thumb inside.
“Open your eyes!” Armie yanked on the back of the rope harness and pulled him tight against him. “Don’t try to move. Let me do all the work, ok?”
Armie spat into his hand and wrapped it around Timmy’s cock, then he began rocking their hips together, backwards and forwards in time with his loose-fisted strokes up-and-down the long, rigid shaft. Slowly at first, then faster, faster, harder. His own throbbing cock rubbed against the knot that bound Tim’s wrists – it was the perfect combination of pleasure and pain. “Look at you Tim... oh god. Are you close? Are you?” They were both panting now, their skin shiny with sweat.
Timmy nodded frantically then groaned and bit down hard on Armie’s thumb. Streams of cum spurted upwards and onto the mirror, and the harness tightened around the skin of his neck and arms as he bucked and jerked with the intensity of his sudden powerful orgasm. They both cried out in unison. “Ow!”
Armie had to practically hold him up as he slumped back against him, wet and spent. “Stay still baby. Don’t fight. You’re not hurt are you? Here... come sit down.” He guided him over to the bed and pressed the San Pellegrino bottle to his lips. “Drink. That’s it. Good boy.” Timmy gulped it down. Good boy again. And baby! What the hell?
Armie stroked his hair and kissed his face and tried to ignore the fact that his own still-hard cock was poking out of his boxer shorts – hand-feeding water to Timmy and watching the overspill drip down his rope-bound body had to be one of the most erotic things he had ever done in his entire life. And he’d done a lot!
But now wasn’t the time for that. He could sort himself out later – and let's face it, the mental wank-bank was full to bursting so he didn’t think that would be a problem, no siree. This was the time to take care of Timmy. “Better now?”
“Phew. Jesus Armie, that was frigging surreal! I feel... I feel... fuck. For once, believe it or not, I’m actually lost for words.”
“Timo-tay Chalamet lost for words? Now that’s a first. Do I need to call an ambulance?” Armie laughed. “Ok, so I’m gonna untie you now. Then we can lay down for a while. Try and relax. Stay as still as you can.”
He unfastened the knots swiftly but carefully, gently kissing and caressing each patch of exposed, rope-marked skin as he went along. “Nearly done. You’re doing great. There’s just this bit here...” he touched a raised spot on the left side of Timmy’s neck, and another near his right elbow. “...and here...that might be a little grazed. Do you always come like that? You damn near bit my finger off.”
“What can I say Hammer, I put my heart and soul into everything I do. Jizzing included.” He chuckled and looked down at himself. The whole front of his body was marked with a symmetrical diamond pattern. As soon as his hands were free of the restraints – and after Armie had rubbed them back to life – he touched the patterns the rope had left on his porcelain smooth skin. “I like this. You’re right. It is pretty. Hishi Karada...”
Armie pondered which was the bigger turn-on - Timmy in ropes or Timmy in rope marks. It was a tough call. He pulled back the sheets on the bed. “Come on, get in for a second. Let’s warm up. Just for a little while. Then you really do need to leave.”
They got under the covers and Armie lit a cigarette. Timmy gestured with his head until he gave in and held it up to his lips to allow him one long, deep drag before pulling it away and stubbing it out. “I’d hate for you to pick up any more of my bad habits. I need to stop.” He shuffled down and made himself the big spoon to Timmy’s little spoon. He kissed the rope-grazed spot on his neck. “This is gonna mark. You’d best wear a sweater with a roll-top tomorrow, or maybe a jacket with the collar up.”
“We’ll see,” said Tim. He sounded sleepy. “Kiss me Armie. Before I go.” He turned around in the circle of Armie’s safe embrace.
They kissed. Then kissed again. And Armie suddenly realised that he was absolutely exhausted.