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Timothée didn’t get the appeal. He understood the basic mechanics, but orgasm delay seemed like an unnecessary form of torture in their situation. Why put off feeling good? Especially after weeks of waiting and wanting to be together. They'd already survived the late night calls, the dirty texts, and the rushed selfies. The idea sounded like adding another delay. Except for one problem - hell would freeze over before Timothée turned down one of Armie’s suggestions (something Elizabeth assured Timothée he would get over in time).

The day of, Armie sent a text as soon as his plane landed. He asked for Timothée’s hotel and room number. In response to the information, Armie simply sent a cheeky “xoxo.” Timothée rushed into the shower after dropping his phone on the bed. By time he had shaved, dressed and checked Twitter twice, he heard a knock on the door. Timothée ran a hand through his just-washed hair one last time. He swung the door open to reveal Armie, taking up his entire view in all his glory. Any final arguments about the idea died on his lips. Timothée felt like a teenager the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

Armie smiled crookedly back at him, “Hey.”

Timothée didn’t have a chance to respond further before Armie was shutting the door behind them. He crowded Timothée against the wall, both his hands framing Timothée’s face, the two of them kissing like they were chasing something they'd lost. The olive colored sweater Armie wore smelled of airport as Timothée leaned into him. His five o’clock shadow scraped Timothée’s cheeks despite it being barely past noon. Timothée moaned with satisfaction. And then Armie was gone. He had moved further into the room, and was now scanning the five-star suite until something caught his eye. He dragged a high-backed velvet arm chair towards the bed.

“Not wasting time,” Timothée joked.

“We’ve only got a few hours, kid. By the way, I like your new headphone. Sorry about Harper using your other ones to make cookies. Good choice with the blue.”

“It’s like you said, sometimes you need to mix things up.”

“Agreed,” Armie said as he took out a coil of silken, white rope from his backpack. “I’m going to get naked and you’re going to tie my hands to make sure I don’t come.”

“Sounds hot?”

Armie leveled him with his gaze. “Very. Trust me, Timmy.”

He undressed without ceremony as promised. Armie took a seat, bare ass shifted against the chair’s fabric. Timothée took off his own jeans. He paused in the process to admire the familiar muscle of Armie while dying to feel skin on skin.

“Come here,” Armie motioned. He proceeded to instruct Timothée through a Prayer Tie that would keep his hands bound. Timothée had always loved the way Armie’s voice grew softer when he explained things. The tone reminded Timmy of nights in Crema - Armie exposed and a little bit broken. Once Timothée finished wrapping the other man’s hands, Armie looked up. Silk braided rope ran between each finger in Timothée’s own version of the design. They shared a kiss in place of comforting words. Armie was the one to pull away.

“I need you to stop as soon as I say so, ok?” He said in full paternal mode.

Timothée nodded along, humoring him. He was still fully clothed with a bottle of coconut-based lubricant by his feet. A cockring had been tucked away into Armie’s bag, which he now told Timothée to bring over. Timothée knelt in front of Armie while devoting full attention to fitting the cockring over Armie's flaccid cock and balls. Armie gazed at him adoringly. He was already half-hard. Armie trusted him, even loved him, regardless if they were Oliver or Elio. Timothée had shared part of himself with Armie that no one else would ever see, and vice versa.

He squirted the oil onto Armie and let it slide down his balls. They locked eyes with one another as Timothée began to massage Armie’s cock with both hands. Armie let out a muffled ‘fuck’ but tried to remain otherwise silent. He seemed to be concentrating on every move Timothée made. The squelch of Timothée’s palms working Armie to full hardness started to fill the room. This - making Armie feel good in the moment - this Timothée could understand.

Armie’s noises and the tension in his body were enough for Timothée to feel himself getting hard. He felt the head of his cock rub against his tented briefs, wetting the center with pre-cum. He focused on the picture of his hand around Armie’s impressive cock as it grew harder by the second under Timothée’s touch. Armie’s balls were also full. They were held snug against his body by the elastic cockring Timothée bent down to kiss where the ring met the skin. Soon Armie began moving his hips faster until he was fucking into Timothée’s lubed fists.

“Oh my god,” Armie let his head fall back. He arched up into Timothée’s hands despite begging him to stop.

Timothée watched as Armie’s cock pulsed in agony. It strained upright and stiff, red and wet at the tip. The head had gone almost purple with the need to come. Timothée’s own cock twitched at the mere sight of it. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, Timothée leaned over to kiss Armie. He had meant for it to be brief. Yet Timothée found himself using his arms to balance against the back of the chair, meeting Armie’s hungry mouth again and again. It was as if Armie was dragging him forward. Armie’s cock brushed the fabric of Timothée’s shirt, long enough for Armie to whine into the kiss. He bit at Timothée lips - unable to maneuver closer by any other means.

“Shit. Fuck. Close. So fucking close.”

Abruptly, Timothée stood back. His chest clenched at the look on Armie’s face, eyes wet and pleading. The lube had begun to dry on Timothée’s hands. He attempted to wipe the spit-sweat-lube mixture off on the nearby bedding. “What should I do now?"

“I just need a second. Say something revolting.” Armie lifted his eyes and willed his breathing back to a steady rhythm.

“Your parents having sex?” He offered. “Gas station bathrooms? New York subway smell?”

“Shit,” Armie interrupted. His cock didn’t show any signs of softening. “Now I’m just thinking about visiting you. I could've had you right there, in that stupid bougie restaurant. I love how you can’t hold your alcohol. Have I ever told you that?”

Timothée smiled. Sticky fingers fumbled with the lube bottle once more, thumb glancing off the slick plastic. “Is it ok if I start again?” he asked. He took a moment to notice how his trepidation had given way to enthusiastic participation.

“Yes,” Armie grit out. Timothée knelt and inched forward so that his breath ghosted Armie’s thighs. He dipped down to rub his nose and lips along Armie’s balls up to his cock. Timothée lingered. He fucking loved the smell of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Armie fighting the rope. Timothée knew Armie wanted to grab a handful of his hair. He continued kissing along the base of Armie’s cock, sloppy and full of tongue.

“Close,” Armie said as if in pain.

Timothée leaned back and brushed the hair from his eyes with the back of his hand. He squeezed himself through his shorts, eager to relieve the pressure of his own hard on. They waited another several seconds. Timothée watched for Armie’s cock to stop pulsing with the threat of orgasm.

Once they’d both regained some sense of composure, Timothée smeared another palmful of lube over Armie’s overworked cock. He watched as he stroked Armie. His thumb and pointer finger rubbed the sensitive junction where the head met the shaft. “Close,” Armie said on contact. The veins up his cock began to bulge with the repeated, unfulfilled threat of orgasm. Timothée found himself fascinated by the almost unnatural warmth of Armie’s skin. Even the slightest touch had Armie biting his tongue to keep from finishing. When Timothée ran his fingers over him, Armie jerked at the contact.

“I have to come,” Armie groaned. “Please.”

“Don’t worry,” Timothée replied. He rushed for more lube. He squeezed so hard in his haste that coconut oil burst and dripped through his fingers. The excess liquid landed on the carpet to stain the pristine dove-grey with dark patches. Timothée removed the rest of his own clothing before rejoining Armie. This time Timothée took an unrelenting pace. His hand tugged from the tip, all the way down to Armie’s pubic hair matted with lubricant and sweat.

“Oh god,” Armie’s fingers flexed in protest against the ties. He looked wrecked. Timothée couldn’t have waited any longer if he’d tried. He had stepped close enough that he was nearly sitting on Armie’s hairy thigh. Desperate to feel Armie’s cum between his thighs, Timothée straddled him. He bent to pepper Armie’s chest with kisses while dragging his bare chest against Armie’s painfully hard dick. Timothée’s free hand reached behind him to try and guide Armie’s dick between his thighs. Yet the skin was too slippery and Armie’s thrusts were too erratic. Instead, Timothée did his best to guide him through the orgasm.

An unprecedented amount of cum shot against Timothée’s chest. Timothée didn’t speak, but held Armie’s head until the tension drained from his body.