Chapter Text
A text comes through.
Want your dick in me so bad
Armie reads it from the audience.
He’d chosen to stay seated during the intermission, using the opportunity to stretch out his long legs as soon as the neighboring patrons were out of their seats.
He knows Timmy is backstage, and it thrills him to know that he’s horny as hell, for Armie only. Knows that he’ll wreck him later.
But for now, the other theater-goers start trickling back in, and Armie laments having to tuck his legs awkwardly in front of him as his neighbors take their seats again. Soon thereafter the lights brighten on the stage - or rather, one light. A spotlight, illuminating Timmy. He looks like an angel, his milky white skin and the light shining from above. Armie is transfixed; and then he starts speaking.
Armie watches the second half of the play absolutely enraptured. He knows how hard Timmy has been working on the play, heck, the entire company, but he’s proud of his boy especially. He can feel his passion, his presence from the audience. He’s sure Timmy’s got everyone in the audience wrapped around his finger, knows that that finger is capable of doing unholy things to Armie in the privacy of their bedroom, their apartment they share. Knows it belongs to him only.
When the play is over, the audience claps enthusiastically, Armie immediately on his feet as the cast takes their bows. He can’t help but whistle and shout his appreciation as Timmy takes his. He’s so proud he feels like he could burst.
After the crowd thins out, he heads for the wings, where he knows he’ll find Timmy and the rest of the cast.
He runs into a group of them. “You guys were fantastic!” he enthuses. He really means it, too. He claps a few of them on the shoulders to emphasize his point. They exchange congenial greetings, animated conversation.
“Timmy is backstage,” one of them says soon enough, knowing that he’s the person that Armie is really here for. He heads towards the dressing rooms, navigating the meandering hallways until he gets to the door he’s looking for. He doesn’t assume Timmy’s the only one in there, so he knocks on the door with a few raps. And yet, the person who opens the door is exactly who he’d been looking for.
As soon as he sees Armie, Timmy is beaming, a beatific smile plastered on his face, light in his eyes.
“Hi,” he greets Armie, smile not dimming even a little bit.
“Hi yourself.”
Timmy steps aside to let Armie in. Armie immediately wraps him up in a hug before Timmy gets a chance to close the door, pushing his nose into his curls.
“You were amazing.”
Timmy pulls back, manages to shut the door by reaching out an arm and pushing. He looks in Armie’s eyes then, plants a kiss on his lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs, when he’s still close.
Timmy then ushers him fully into the room, where his castmates are undoing their hair, removing their stage makeup, and changing into their street clothes. There’s a bustle of activity, enthusiastic voices chattering away as they talk about the night’s performance. He looks back at Timmy, notices he’s still in his costume.
“I’m gonna change,” Timmy tells him.
Armie nods.
“Want to come with me?”
Armie smiles, nods again. Timmy walks away for a moment, grabbing a bag from underneath the countertop, above which sits a row of mirrors that everyone is using to get out of character.
Then he takes Armie’s hand, leads him to a more private area for changing, which many of the cast members use to get fully naked before either putting on their stage looks or taking them off. He pulls the curtain closed, uncaring that the other members will know they are both enclosed within the space. Timmy’s immediately on him, kissing Armie more fully, deepening the kiss by opening his mouth, extending it by sliding his lips against Armie’s over and over again. When he pulls back, his eyes are still sparkling, a grin on his lips.
“You were amazing,” Armie tells him again, keeping his voice low.
“Thank you, baby.” He smiles at the endearment, pecks Timmy on the lips once more for good measure.
At first he watches as Timmy starts to get undressed, stepping in to help when Timmy reaches back to try to undo the zipper on his top. He knows that someone else helped him put it on, but there’s a warmth in his belly at the knowledge that he’s the one to take it off.
When he’s fully naked, Timmy turns back around, and the sparkle in his eyes has only gotten brighter, if that’s even possible. He slides up to Armie, pressing their bodies together, and suddenly Armie has his arms full of a very naked Timmy. His body responds immediately, but as much as he’d like to ravish him right on the spot, he settles for smoothing his hands up and down Timmy’s skin, which feels slightly cool to the touch and oh so silky smooth. Armie pushes his nose into Timmy’s curls and just enjoys his smell, their closeness.
But Timmy seems like he has other ideas. He slides his hands down Armie’s back until they pass over the top of his pants, the leather belt he’d put on for the occasion. Timmy leans up, his mouth right up against Armie’s ear.
“Want you to wrap this around me,” he whispers, the air from his breath tickling into Armie’s inner ear and making goosebumps raise over his entire body. He wraps his arms more tightly around him, pushes his face into Timmy’s neck to prevent himself from making a noise. The thought of Timmy restrained by the leather of his belt has him hardening in his pants.
He’s aroused, which means he partially forgets where they are, the world around them fading away. Armie slides his hands over Timmy’s bare ass and squeezes. Feels Timmy’s exhale against his ear, the way he digs his fingers into Armie’s back. He starts sliding his hands back up but Timmy reaches around and stops his movement.
Grabs him by the wrist and guides Armie’s hand back to his ass, pausing as Armie’s hand cups his buttcheek, enveloping it completely. Then starts sliding his hand towards the middle of his ass, towards the seam, where that secret place lies that only Armie can touch.
Armie places a kiss just below Timmy’s ear and feels him shiver in his arms, takes Timmy’s devilish plans one step further and extends his finger so it aligns with his crack. Holds it there. Delights in the whisper of “Armie,” that falls from Timmy’s lips.
For as slow as he’d put his finger there, he retreats it quickly. Kisses Timmy to stifle the whimper he knows is coming. Pulls back, takes Timmy’s face in his hands so he’ll look at him. Another kiss, then lets him go. Nods to the bag that holds his change of clothes. Sees the look of defiance in Timmy’s eyes, the way his mouth opens to form a silent protest. Looks at him evenly, authoritatively, and Timmy’s shoulders slump before he bends down towards the bag. Starts taking out his clothes and dressing himself.
Armie barely holds back the Good boy that’s on the tip of his tongue.
Once Timmy is dressed, they both emerge from the small changing room, walking through the backstage area. If anyone noticed that they’d been in there for a while, or caught wind of any of their whispered endearments then that was on them. Timmy takes Armie’s hand as they walk.
Turns to him. “I’m going to say goodbye to a few people.”
Armie nods at him. “I’ll wait out front. Then we can call a car.” Gives Timmy’s hand a squeeze and walks back the way he’d come, out the stage door and into the cool evening air. He stands there for a moment, breathing in the night, before heading towards the front of the theater, finding a lamppost to lean against while he waits.
He thumbs the phone in his pocket. Thinks of all the things he’d like to do to Timmy once they’re in the privacy of their own apartment.
Wishes he had a cigarette.
It’s not long before Timmy comes bounding up to him, all loose as he bumps his body into Armie’s, graceful in the way he recovers and stands in front of him, giant smile on his lips, eyes almost in crescents and full of mirth.
“Ready?” Armie asks, and Timmy nods, winding their arms together as Armie types their destination into the app on his phone, waits through the countdown.
“Three minutes.”
Timmy hums, rests his head against Armie’s shoulder.
Finally they see the headlights of the approaching car, wait for it to stop before they step closer. Armie opens the door for Timmy, motions for him to go first. Armie follows, ducking his head considerably before settling into his seat. He exchanges pleasant greetings with the driver before buckling himself in.
He looks over at Timmy, who is looking back. He extends his hand over the middle seat, palm up. Timmy takes it immediately.
They drive along in silence, enjoying the bright lights of the passing scenery, the warm air inside the car, the feeling of their hands joined together. Then Timmy shifts in his seat, and Armie thinks nothing of it. A few more moments pass and he hears Timmy shift again. This time he looks over, but doesn’t get very far until he notices that Timmy has shifted closer.
He’s looking out the window like nothing is happening, so Armie does the same. Timmy untangles his hand from Armie’s, and Armie lets him. He spaces out as the car coasts along, lets his mind do the same.
Then there’s a hand on his thigh.
Oh.
Interesting.
Timmy’s looking ahead, eyes towards the front of the car, presumably admiring the passing scenery through the front windshield. Armie keeps looking at him, but Timmy doesn’t move his head. Just keeps his gaze forward.
The hand shifts almost imperceptibly, and the skin about a quarter of an inch higher on Armie’s thigh is now covered and warm.
As they drive, Timmy’s hand keeps creeping upwards. And Armie lets him.
His hand is approaching Armie’s crotch, fingers curling over the inseam of his inner thigh, when they arrive at their building. Timmy’s hand retreats and they thank their driver.
Armie unlocks the front door, holding it open for Timmy to walk through. They wait for the elevator in silence. Once in, Armie pushes the button for their floor. They’re still silent.
When the doors open, Timmy is the first one out. He’s not walking normally, but kind of rushing instead. Armie’s long legs will usually carry him faster than Timmy’s, but Timmy speeds ahead of him. Reaches their door first. Stuffs his hands into his pockets as Armie approaches. Armie finds the right key and as he’s unlocking the door, Timmy crowds against him. He feels a charge between the brushes of their skin, even through their clothing.
As soon as the door is closed, Timmy turns towards him.
“I meant what I said.”
Armie looks at him, cocking his head slightly, communicating with his eyes only, waiting for Timmy to continue, to explain.
Timmy doesn’t seem to be keen on using words either, instead sidles up to Armie and rubs their bodies together. Brings his hands up to Armie’s chest, slides them up and down over his shirt. Looks up into his eyes. It’s not until then that Armie notices the difference.
His eyes are a darker green, shimmering like the late sun on a cool lake. They’ve turned darker, the speckles of gold gone in favor of the wide pool of his pupils. Sometimes Armie wonders if Timmy knows the power he holds in his eyes, how a slight change in them can make Armie want to ravish him, submit to him, cuddle him silly. Right now they’re putting Armie under a spell, drawing him into their depths. Armie would happily drown.
“Will you…”
Armie is so hypnotized by Timmy at this point, that he’s pretty sure he’ll agree to anything.
Timmy doesn’t continue though, mouth open, seeming to hesitate. Armie brings his arms around his waist, clasps his hands together at the small of his back. Looks into his eyes still.
Then Timmy looks away.
Armie frowns for a moment, unsure of what this means. But then he raises his hand to Timmy’s face, cups his cheek and brings his head back so their gazes meet again. He tries to say with his eyes that Timmy can trust him, can ask him anything and Armie will do it. That he has to know that by now.
Timmy nuzzles his face into Armie’s hand to show he understands. Pushes up on his tiptoes and brings his mouth next to Armie’s ear.
“I want you to blindfold me and spank me til my ass turns red.”
Timmy’s voice is barely a whisper and yet Armie’s entire body reacts as if it had been shouted at him. The words reverberate around him, inside of him, and cause him to tense up, to fill out.
He brings his arms more fully around Timmy’s back, wrapping them around him so his hands are clutching at Timmy’s sides, near the bottom of his ribs. Leans into his neck.
“Yes, baby.” Nods against him.
Armie feels the full-body shiver that runs through Timmy, feels him bring his arms around his middle, squeeze him closer to his body. If they were any closer at this point they’d actually fuse together, Armie thinks.
He leans back, bringing Timmy’s face into view. His cheeks are painted pink and his eyes darker still. Armie looks into his eyes, can only think of how much pinker his cheeks will be once he’s done with him.
“Anything else?” Armie asks because he feels like there might be more. And he knows he would happily give into it.
Timmy stares into Armie’s eyes, and he’s lost, consumed.
In a flash Timmy is devouring his mouth, ferociously attacking it with all he’s got, squirming in Armie’s hold as he seems to put his whole body into the kiss. Armie responds with lashing tongue and biting teeth, until Timmy pulls back and they’re both breathing hard.
Armie’s only just opened his eyes when Timmy brings a hand down to Armie’s crotch and palms at his cock, which is very much participating in what’s happening, even more so under Timmy’s touch. He closes them again as Timmy’s warm hand closes around him, gyrates his hips to get more pressure on his dick.
“Want you to tie me up and make me take it,” Timmy says, and Armie practically loses his breath. For how many times and how many things they’ve done, Timmy can still surprise him, can overwhelm him; can bring him under, like a too-big wave crashing over him before he’s drowned by it, absolutely drenched, head spinning.
Armie composes himself, barely, taking a breath before asking.
“This what you were thinking about?”
Timmy simply hums, presses his hand more firmly into Armie’s dick. This time Armie groans, helpless.
“Got hard backstage. Wanted it so bad.”
“Fuck, baby.” Armie attacks him then, kissing him until he literally cannot breathe and has to pull back.
His hands find Timmy’s face, holds him. Armie opens his eyes to find Timmy’s still closed. Timmy looks so peaceful, so fucking beautiful, that Armie almost pulls a hand back to pinch himself. Manages not to, instead strokes his thumbs across Timmy’s darkly pinkened cheeks to convince himself that this is real, that he gets to have this beautiful creature in his life.
Armie leads them into the bedroom, undresses Timmy silently, hands brushing against soft skin as he goes, eyes devouring every inch of him.
“Show me how much you wanted it,” Armie says lowly. Timmy’s eyes snap open and Armie watches as the recognition of what he’s asking flashes through his eyes.
Timmy drops down in one fluid motion, hands grazing Armie’s body as he lowers his, landing on the waistband of Armie’s pants. Not even waiting til he’s fully settled on his knees to get to work opening them.
First the leather belt, which he works open deftly, licking his lips and looking at it with a hunger in his eyes, and Armie can’t tell if it’s the belt he’s after or what’s underneath.
Then the button, then the zip. His eyes are trained firmly on the bulge in Armie’s boxers as he pulls both them and the pants down in one smooth motion.
Timmy looks up at him, catching his eyes for a brief moment, then lowers them again as he flicks out his tongue and licks the tip of Armie’s cock. Armie shudders and nearly loses it just from that alone, but knows that the situation requires him to keep some modicum of control if he’s going to give Timmy what he wants.
He lets Timmy suck him for a while, reveling in the feeling of his warm mouth wrapped around his dick, the way his eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes and focuses on the task at hand. Runs his hand through wild curls, dances his fingertips along the edge of Timmy’s jawline, then underneath to where Armie’s cock is stretching his throat.
He’s gentle, careful, until he’s not.
Armie grabs Timmy by the hair and wrenches him off. As much as he’d like for him to continue, he knows there are other things to get to.
“On the bed.” Timmy rises from his knees, crawls onto the bed. Starts to lie down, then eyes Armie as if unsure what position he’s supposed to be in. Armie curses inwardly; this boy is so good. “Turn around.”
Timmy obeys, looking at Armie until he’s facing the other way. Once there, he arches his back, exposing himself further to Armie, an invitation to look, to take. Kicking off his pants, boxers too, Armie approaches the bed. Reaches out and palms one of the globes of Timmy’s ass, able to cover it with his entire hand. He starts kneading it, rubbing over it with his palm.
“Fuck, this ass,” he hisses.
Timmy hums. “You gonna mark it?”
Armie bends forward, opens his mouth and latches onto Timmy’s skin where his ass is the roundest, bites down. Timmy yelps with surprise, and Armie lets go with a chuckle.
“Please, Armie,” Timmy says, sounding a little bit more breathless.
Armie keeps rubbing at the slight roundness of his ass. “That was a nice move you pulled in the car home,” he comments. Tries to keep his tone conversational. Alternates between light and firm strokes of his hand. Lets the moment stretch on.
Then, with the quickness of a racecar taking off from the starting line, he digs his fingers into Timmy’s flesh. Drops his voice low. “Is that why you want me to spank you?” He can feel Timmy’s body go rigid, hears him let his breath out in a whoosh, as if he’d been holding it momentarily.
“Hm? Do you want me to punish you for it?”
“Daddy,” comes Timmy’s reply, the word exhaled on a breath.
Armie pulls away and rounds the bed to rummage around in the drawer of the nightstand. Finds what he’s looking for, holds the piece of fabric in his hands. Comes back to his original spot and reaches to loop the blindfold around Timmy’s head, secures it over his eyes.
Wrenching his shirt off over his head, Armie kneels up on the bed over his boy, ready and waiting for him. Stares at his hole, pink and exposed, can’t help himself from thrusting his hips forward, now-bare cock rubbing against the seam of his ass. Timmy moans and pushes back, but Armie stops him with a firm hand on his back. Before he has a chance to still completely, Armie delivers a hefty smack to one milky white cheek. Delights in Timmy’s gasp, sharp and wet.
“Ah-ah,” he warns. “Don’t be greedy.”
Timmy whines, squirms, but eventually stills, Armie’s hand still spanning his lower back.
“Good boy,” Armie mutters, and that seems to settle him further.
He rubs his hands over Timmy’s ass cheeks in quick circles, letting him know he’s not done yet. His ass is barely pink, and Timmy had asked for red.
“Can you count for me?”
Timmy nods. “Yeah.”
Armie delivers another smack right away, eliciting a sharp, surprised moan from Timmy. “One,” he says, unsteadily, his voice shaking.
Another slap to his ass, only this time it’s gentle, a sharp little pat, and yet Timmy’s body jolts as if Armie had smacked him hard.
“I’ll give you more if you’re quiet.”
Timmy whines, loudly, this time, face pressing into the mattress. Armie loves that he’s already so worked up, just from this, that his boy is so responsive, so good, so perfect for him.
“Can you do that for me, baby?”
Timmy takes a breath in, a loud, harsh inhale, before speaking. “Yes.”
“You want more then?”
“Yes, daddy.” Timmy sounds desperate. Good.
“Put your hand out, baby. Use your fingers to count.”
Timmy’s left hand is balled into a fist next to his head on the mattress, his knuckles turning white with how hard he’s gripping.
Armie winds up, then smacks his ass, hard. There’s a barely-stifled whimper from Timmy, but he’s mostly successful in keeping quiet. Armie looks at his hand, and there’s one finger up.
“Such a good boy.” He pets his bottom, his lower back. “Only for me, yeah?”
Timmy nods, lips pressed together so hard that they’ve disappeared entirely.
Armie keeps on delivering smack after smack, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing sharply in the room. Timmy does his best to stay quiet, although he’s not completely silent. Armie lets it pass, since he likes to see Timmy struggle not to fall apart.
Once all five of Timmy’s fingers are extended. Armie leans down and kisses down Timmy’s back. It’s then that Timmy releases his lips, color coming back to them now that they’re not pressed together tightly. He sighs.
Armie leans back up to inspect his handiwork. Timmy’s ass is, indeed, reddened from his hand.
“Fuck, yes,” Armie intones roughly, unable to help himself from petting over Timmy’s ass, gently, knowing the skin is sensitive, especially with the way Timmy hisses.
“Feel okay, baby?”
“Hmm, yeah, fuck. Armie,” Timmy babbles.
He kisses over the lowest point of his back, mouth moving in a line from hip to hip. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself, taking care of his baby boy in this way, but apparently Timmy has grown impatient.
“You gonna fuck me, daddy?”
Armie gives one last kiss to Timmy’s skin.
“You think you can take it?”
Timmy grits his teeth. “I want you to make me.”
“Make you take it?”
“Fuck yeah.”
Armie pushes his hips forward, his bare cock coming in contact with the seam of Timmy’s ass. This draws a loud moan from Timmy, and Armie hears himself groan. He can’t pretend he’s not affected by this, too, that he doesn’t relish the sight of his dick rubbing against Timmy’s crack, the idea of pounding into Timmy’s tight hole making him hard as steel.
He leans over and grabs lube from the nightstand. Coats his fingers with it, uses one hand on Timmy’s hip to steady him, the other to rub against Timmy’s hole.
“Oh my god, yes.”
Armie smiles. It’s not long before he’s plunging his finger inside his lover, roughly pushing and pulling it in and out, quickly picking up a fast rhythm. Timmy is moaning freely at this point, and Armie’s sure that he couldn’t control himself now even if he was asked to. But Armie wants to hear him, hear how he brings his boy pleasure, so he really doesn’t mind.
“You like taking my finger?”
“Yes. Fuck.” Timmy pushes back against Armie’s finger, making it slide all the way in. “Want your dick.”
“So demanding,” Armie murmurs, even as he pulls his finger out and slicks himself up. He’s so ready to plunge in, to take his pleasure, to make Timmy scream. But first –
He wipes his fingers on his own thigh and reaches down, taking off the blindfold that’s hidden Timmy’s eyes from him. Timmy blinks against the light, presses his face into the mattress to hide in the darkness a bit longer. Armie throws it to the side, then takes each of Timmy’s arms and folds them behind his back. He uses the same fabric blindfold to tie his arms in place, looping it over and under each of his wrists before tying with a simple knot.
Timmy tests the strength of the knot by wiggling his arms, grunts into the mattress.
“Want your belt,” he says, his voice slightly muffled.
Armie knows he could tie him with the leather belt he’d been wearing earlier, but he’s too impatient to look for it, to figure out how to tie it tightly enough – but not too tight. The fabric will have to do for now.
“Next time, baby, next time.”
He wastes no more time lining up his cock with Timmy’s hole, and Timmy is immediately pressing back into him. His boy is really desperate.
Armie enters him in one smooth motion, making Timmy shout.
“This what you wanted?” he somehow has the wherewithal to ask. Timmy is gripping him so hard it almost hurts, walking that delicate line between pain and pleasure. Timmy just whines. Armie decides they’ve both waited long enough, and he starts up a punishing pace right from the beginning.
Timmy’s body is bouncing off of his, and Timmy is laying there, letting himself be used, moaning at each thrust.
Armie uses the fabric that binds Timmy’s arms behind his back to lift him up, so that his back is against Armie’s chest. Keeps thrusting into him. Moves his other arm around to the front of Timmy’s body so that his hand can grip around his neck.
“You feel so fucking good,” he grunts against Timmy’s shoulder.
Timmy’s mouth is open, hard pants leaving his reddened lips at each pass of Armie’s dick inside of him. Armie thinks about how fucking beautiful he is, how it seems Timmy was made only for him. How well they fit together.
His thoughts are interrupted when Timmy clenches down on him.
“Oh shit,” Armie breathes against him. He vaguely sees Timmy’s lips turn up into a smile. He gives him a single staccato thrust, as hard as he can from this angle, and the smile disappears immediately. “You’re gonna make me come,” Armie tells him.
“Want your come. Fill me up.”
“Yeah?”
“Please.”
It’s a frantic race to the finish line then, Armie wound up as all hell, his balls full and aching for release. Even though he’d been controlling the pace, tying Timmy up, and teasing him to death, he knew he was giving him exactly what he wanted. Knew that Timmy had him tied around his finger, his heart, and would always give him exactly as he asked for. What he deserved.
As Armie spills inside him, Timmy cries out, arching his body so his head flops back onto Armie’s shoulder, ass stuck out at an angle so Armie can thrust into him gently as he rides out his orgasm. Timmy hums, sounding satisfied.
Armie squeezes Timmy hard against him, squeezing his eyes shut as the last ripples run through him, as he completely empties himself inside the only place he’ll ever want to be. That precious place that belongs to him only.
Once the aftershocks have subsided, he breathes hard against Timmy’s skin, pressing a few kisses to his shoulder and neck, tasting the salt of his sweat. He feels Timmy shiver in his arms, smooths one hand down his chest, his belly, rubs circles there.
Timmy starts rocking against him, ever so slightly, and even though Armie will be oversensitive soon, he lets him. Slides his hand down to Timmy’s cock, wraps his fist around it. He’s so hard.
“Want to come on my cock?”
“Yeah. Yes. Fuck, yes.”
Armie presses his mouth to Timmy’s shoulder again, sucks at his skin while he holds Timmy’s cock in his fist, lets him fuck between it and his dick that’s still inside him. Now Armie’s come is essentially lube that Timmy’s fucking himself with. He listens to Timmy as his moans get louder, as his whines get higher in pitch and more desperate. Feels him twitch inside the grasp of his hand, looks over his shoulder as the first spurts of come start shooting out of his dick, landing on the bedsheets below.
Timmy keeps rocking back and forth, riding it out, growing heavier against Armie, until he’s practically boneless. Armie strokes upward with his fist still clenched tightly around Timmy’s dick, gathering the remaining come in his palm. He watches as it glistens with the light, brings it up to Timmy’s mouth, who obediently sucks at his fingers, licks over his palm, tasting himself. With the same soiled hand, Armie pulls at his jaw so his head turns sideways and their mouths can connect. Timmy’s taste explodes in his mouth and he rubs his tongue against Timmy’s to savor it. When they finally pull apart, Timmy rests his head back against Armie’s shoulder again, eyes closed, breath coming out in pants.
“Lean forward, baby,” Armie says after a minute or so, wanting to stay inside of him forever but knows it’s probably time to pull out. So as Timmy moves, he does. Timmy moans in protest, and Armie kisses his shoulder in apology. He quickly unties Timmy’s hands from behind his back, guides him to lie down. Timmy flops face-down onto the mattress, eyes closed, body relaxed as a rag doll. Armie leaves the bed momentarily to find something to wipe his hand with, comes back to the bed and kneels over the backs of Timmy’s thighs. Massages down his forearms, over his wrists. Timmy sighs contentedly.
Armie bends down to kiss Timmy’s hand, the center of his back, the hand on the other side of his body. Leans forward to brush Timmy’s hair from his face, a wave of tenderness washing over him at the sight of his closed eyes, those long, dark eyelashes, still-pink cheeks, dusting of freckles, perfect red lips. His mouth is slightly open, and he’s breathing like he does when he’s on the brink of sleep.
Armie kisses his cheek, lets his lips linger there for a moment.
“You were so good,” he says quietly, unsure whether Timmy can hear him or not. Strokes over his cheek with the back of his knuckles.
He gets off the bed and pads to the bathroom to clean himself up. Once he’s finished, he heads back into the bedroom and is somehow just as delighted to see Timmy lying sprawled on their bed as he ever is, every single time. Getting in bed, he manages to wrestle the covers over them both. He listens to the sound of Timmy’s breathing, even and slow.
“I love you,” he whispers, follows Timmy’s quiet breaths and falls asleep, too.