Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

My Boyfriend's Sister's Boyfriend (P7)

I let the letters fall from my hands and I tackled him. I smashed my lips to his as I flung my arms around him. He responded with equal passion. If our kiss before had been slow, and careful, this was hungry.

His hands were gripping my hips as our tongues danced together. My hands curled in his hair, and I pulled lightly. He whimpered into the kiss, and the sound lit a fire in my core.

"Shut the door," I told him breathlessly. "I want you."

His eyes were glittering with anticipation. I didn't care that what I was doing was wrong. I didn't care about what my family and friends would think. I didn't give a shit. All I wanted was him, him, him, all of him.

"This has to be a dream," he panted as I kissed down his neck.

"You're too good to be real," he said, as his hands crept up my shirt. He kneaded my breasts. I felt like I had been electrified. Everywhere he touched lit up.

"Timothée," I moaned.

"I want my name to be the only name you ever say that way," he said, and licked a stripe up my throat. I felt like I might die of bliss. I pulled off his shirt, my hands moving over his torso with reverence, as though I were touching Holy texts.

"It will be," I promised him. "No one could ever make me feel like you do."

I was kissing him again. His hands were unbuttoning my sleep shirt. I couldn't wait to be bare for him. I wanted him to own me.

He broke the kiss, preparing himself to look down at me. I had expected starry eyes, but there was a look of horror on his face.

"Y/n," he choked. I'd forgotten the large, shoe shaped bruise on my chest.

"What happened?" He demanded, practically cradling me in his arms. I couldn't stop the tears the formed in my eyes.

"Is this why you came to my apartment the other night?" He asked.

"No, but something similar to this," I said, moving to show him the bruises that had yet to fade from my arms.

"He did this, didn't he," he said, trying to get me to look into his eyes. "I'll murder him."

Timothée made to leave me, as if he'd truly meant it.

"No, stay here with me, love me, please," I begged. He turned back to me.

"You're not going back to him. He's abusing you. Promise you'll let me help you," he pleaded.

"I promise," I relented. I could take it back later, even though I didn't want to. I wanted to relent, to let him help me.

"I know I forgot to say it, because of the mark," he said, as he slowly reached behind me to unclasp my bra. It fell to the floor.

"You are absolutely gorgeous," he said and dipped his head so he could kiss my breasts. He gently licked my bruise, as if he would take it away from me if he could. He brought his mouth to my peaked nipples and sucked them into his mouth.

"Oh, Timmy," I breathed as he suckled. I could hardly imagine anything feeling better than this, and we'd barely started.

"I want to taste you," he said, reaching a hand down to pull off my sleep shorts. He touched the fabric of my panties and groaned.

"You're so wet," he cursed. He got on his knees, and kept eye contact with me as he slid the panties down my legs. I shuddered when his breath ghosted over my heat. I moved back against the wall to stable myself.

Once I was secure, he gave me small kitten licks. I felt like my body was becoming liquid, but I stayed standing. After the initial teasing, he began to devour me. I cried out in pleasure. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. The wonders his tongue was doing, felt supernatural.