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The first time it happened, Timmy had been so close that the mere sound of Armie’s voice nearly made him come.

He can’t remember the name of the girl he was with, but when he answered the phone with a, “he never calls me this early for him something’s probably wrong, give me a second,” her hand ground into his chest as she pushed her hips back in jealous retaliation. The thing was, he meant it—he never would have picked up the phone when someone was quite literally on his dick, but it was 5am in California and Timmy worried it was Harper, and instead of just pulling out and rolling over, he stayed put. Too caught off guard by the call, perhaps.

Regardless of why he picked up, the second Armie’s voice filled his senses, everything happened at once. “Hey, sorry it’s fucking early. Shit you’re probably sleeping, I can call later,” in a low rumble that told Timmy he had probably not slept much, and her hips were pushing back, and her hair was falling forward, and his was breath hitching—he felt flushed when her hand clamped over his mouth with a smirk of her own as she kept moving. Jealousy looked good on her and he was paying the price.

 He let his hand knead her thigh when he spoke to Armie. Elizabeth woke up with a craving and, being the doting husband he tried oh so hard to be, he left the house while it was still dark out in search of something to satisfy it. He called Timmy for company on the drive. Timmy barely held back a moan when Armie swore at a car who cut him off, and at the sight of his struggle, the woman leaned down and bit his ear that wasn’t pressed up against Armie’s voice. It was all of his senses, all at once: the smell or her conditioner, the heat of her body, Armie. He told Armie he needed to call him back in a few. Came within a minute of hanging up so hard he couldn’t breathe.

He never said anything—it felt awkward. He considered it, more than once actually, but what would he say? “Remember when you called me the other day? Well I was actually fucking this girl and you kind of helped get me off.” No. Of course not. So he said nothing.

But it happened again, not even a month later, and Timmy nearly cried because the guy who was balls deep inside him made him answer the phone like it was some kind of game, and he kept thrusting every time Timmy stopped talking, and his hand was firm on his chest when he pushed him down, and Timmy ended the call without so much as a goodbye because he was afraid he would give himself away with how hard the guy was going and how desperate he was to make noise, god any kind of noise to release the coiled want in his gut.

It didn’t happen on the press tour for a long time, so long that Timmy thought it wouldn’t happen again and got comfortable. He took a guy back to his hotel and before he could even pull his fingers out of him, the phone vibrated. He eyed it, groaned, and made a move to silence it before the guy spoke up. “Do it,” he dared.

It was very possible that Timmy had a type, and that type was the kind to enjoy watching him squirm.

“What?! I’m not answering while we’re—”

“It’ll be hot come on I’ll have to stay quiet answer it,” he said, nudging his ass down on Timmy’s hand. So Timmy did because hell, why not at this point, and did his damn best to loosen the guy up while Armie told him all about the dinner he just had to endure with his wife. The guy spasmed and sucked in a deep breath as his hand slapped down on Timmy’s leg so loud Armie stopped mid-sentence. “Um... Everything alright?”

Christ!” Timmy slapped a hand over the guy’s mouth with wild eyes and replied to Armie with what he hoped was a definitely-not-breathless voice. “Yeah,” Timmy laughed. “Why?”

“I just... I thought I heard—nevermind. Are you in your room? Let’s go do drinks—”

And Timmy nearly shouted his no! but was fairy proud of himself for getting Armie to agree to meet him a little later—he was going over a script. Wanted some more time. Armie didn’t really buy it, but he also didn’t have any reason to want to question him. So after Timmy and his new friend came, he cleaned up, tussled his hair, poured some aftershave on to mask the smell, and met Armie for a drink in the lobby of their hotel. And if he looked freshly fucked, well Armie didn’t say a word.

So Timmy didn’t necessarily mean for it to be a thing. He didn’t even really want to pick up the phone. It just happened... a few times... which was fine. No one really knew who he was at that point, and they never paid any attention to who was calling, just that someone was calling and it might be fun. Timmy didn’t understand why he seemed to draw in the kind of person who thought it was thrilling, but then again, he didn’t really like to analyze why he took home the people he took home.

The next time it happened though—Timmy couldn’t blame anyone but himself, and even as he attempted to rid himself of some of the guilt, he simply couldn’t. He had been with a model, the first time he had ever been, with, a model. And she was going down on him, and he could hardly breathe because holy shit, 15 year old him would come in his pants if he knew that this was his future, and his phone vibrated in his pocket and she moaned and by the time he registered the name on the phone, he already knew who it would be and what he would do. So, his hand stayed firmly in her hair as he cleared his throat and answered. Because he would always answer.

Armie’s voice was thick and it went straight to his dick, but he was just on the edge of not caring how shitty it was to do this again that it didn’t matter. There wasn’t even a point to the call, was the worst part. Armie just wanted to talk, said he missed him, and Timmy felt like an asshole because he was close, and he could almost pretend that things were different, that Armie missed him would mean he would come find him. Armie asked if he wanted to FaceTime and he had to tell him he needed to shower, that he would as soon as he was out, and the laugh he got in return made him push the woman away from his dick before he could come.

He spent the entirety of his shower making it up to her that he took the call, but she didn’t really seem to mind. They never did.

For a while, he thought it was just the act of getting off with someone on the phone that made it so hot, something about the secrecy and needing to stay quiet. But the thought of someone else calling while he was hooking up could literally make him go soft, so he had to stop lying to himself at a certain point.

And it wasn’t just his voice, because, unfortunately, Timmy knew from experience that just listening to him wouldn’t get him hard. Not like, well not like the phone calls did.

He was bent over on a friend of a friend from high school’s bed when it clicked. Really, it started before they started losing their clothes because Timmy was a little day drunk and Armie kept sending him memes and the guy who he used to think was hot in his theater classes was smirking at him and asking who it was. So Timmy told him—accidentally of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that Armie had been everywhere lately and he craved him like a drug—that Armie had really uncanny timing of calling while he was trying to hook up. “Oh is that what we’re doing?” the guy asked, hand on Timmy’s thigh, smirk on his lips.

“Isn’t it?”

By the time he was pushing into Timmy, it really seemed inevitable. And when Timmy laughed, head in his hands as the phone rang, the guy behind him draped his body over him to pick the phone up. “Want me to get it?” he teased.

“Want me to?”

“You wouldn’t. “

“Told you. I have before.”

“Okay. Do you want me to stop?” Timmy flushed red, head shaking no as the phone stopped ringing. They looked at each other for a second before it started again. The guy started laughing, his hands digging into Timmy’s hips. “Do you pretend it’s him fucking you?” he asked.

“No jesus that would be so fucked—” but the phone was ringing for awhile and before he could finish his thought, before it could go to voicemail again, he heard—

Answer the phone.” And chills went down Timmy’s spine because he hadn’t been told what to do in a long time, not like that, so he fumbled with the phone and swiped it to say hello.

And it was instant, the amount of arousal that shot through him as he closed his eyes and heard his voice. The guy behind him was mouthing at his spine, hands everywhere, cock better than he expected to be frank. But it was Armie that made it hard to hold on. Timmy’s body went into overdrive. He pushed back on the guy, trying to get more somehow and nearly gasped when he was given it, when the guy said, “Fuck you really love it.”

“Wait—oh. My. God. Tim are you watching porn?” Armie burst out laughing before resigning himself in and following up with, “Oh my God please tell me you’re watching porn and that’s why you won’t facetime me. Jesus. I can call after you’re done.”

“I’m not—no, I—” Timmy fumbled, but Armie was still laughing and the guy behind him wasn’t very quiet, and his voice was shaking from how hard he was already, so instead of denying it, said, “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be Timmy T. Enjoy yourself.” He could still hear the laugh in Armie’s voice and he wanted to whine because he needed so much fucking more. Armie hung up and he really did whine, told the guy behind him to fuck him harder, and tried not to think about how badly he wished he could still hear Armie teasing him.

He did FaceTime him later, because he had the self-control of an ant when it came to all things Armie. His hair was wet from a shower and Armie teased him for it taking forever— two and a half hours Timmy? I hope it was worth the time you put in—before he was back in his own apartment, showered, and dressed. He was flushed from the heat of the shower and pink on his ears and cheeks from the restless attention and pestering thrown at him from Armie. “Why’d you even answer the phone?” And there it was, the question Timmy couldn’t very well answer himself. “If you needed to get off you could have just called me after,” Armie said in that tone that read playful but was really more curious than anything. The blush on Timmy’s face couldn’t have been worse.

“I dunno. I guess I just—I wasn’t thinking. Reflex I guess.”

“Reflex to answer the phone while you’re jacking off?”

“No dumbass,” Timmy rolled his eyes, because really Armie was a bit closer to the truth than he realized. It was becoming reflex to answer the phone for him when he was getting off. Just not alone. “Reflex to answer your calls.” Safe enough, true enough.

“Well next time FaceTime me, we can make it interesting.” Timmy sputtered out some unintelligible thing and nearly dropped his phone before he heard that laugh, that laugh, fill his ears again. “I’m just kidding, shit you should see your face,” he laughed. “I mean I’d probably ruin it for you anyway.”

But Timmy didn’t know what to say, didn’t exactly think no that would probably make me come faster was appropriate, especially considering Armie had never called while he was actually getting himself off. It was only when he was in bed with someone that it happened, and as much as he liked the idea of scandalizing Armie, he didn’t think it would be appreciated to switch his camera on while fucking someone else and only pay attention to Armie, give himself away at how fast he could come if Armie talked to him, just talked.

And regardless, Armie was kidding. So he shouldn’t have thought about it at all.

Except he couldn’t stop thinking about it. When a month later, he was kissing a guy he had met a few times casually in the back of a bar, considering finally hooking up with him, he kept seeing Armie’s face and had to eventually bail on the guy. He tried to get himself off to do something with the pull in his gut but it didn’t work, it wasn’t good, and he wanted Armie. He just wanted Armie. And he couldn’t exactly call him and ask him to talk to him to release the tension, so he went to bed frustrated.

But one of the absolute worst times it happened was in LA.

Timmy was staying with Armie for a few days under the radar and met up with someone he had seen a few times before, though they never hooked up. He didn’t anticipate it going there, and perhaps in retrospect he should have known that when she called him up that it would end that way. But he didn’t know, still a bit taken aback at how wanted he was by so many people he encountered.

She knew he was staying with Armie, and while she didn’t seem like much of a fan, she found that adorable. She was in the business; she knew how hard it was to keep those friendships. She admired them even for making it work. And when Timmy was kissing her in her apartment, he felt like maybe he had turned a new leaf. He hadn’t been laid in too long and he didn’t even think about Armie until she was undressed, under him, and his lips were at her neck as he pushed inside her. She was needy and he felt needed and it didn’t even cross his mind until a light from his phone made everything brighter. “Oh my god. It’s Armie,” she said, nearly brimming with giggles. “Armie Hammer is calling you while you have sex. Imagine.”

“Just, fuck just ignore—”

“You should totally answer it. He seems like the kind of guy who would think it’s funny,” she said, fingers trailing down his back. But he could barely think, and the anxiety of it happening again made him want to curl up in a ball and hide. He couldn’t do that, because by the time he opened his eyes, she was saying, “Timmy’s phone,” and rolling her hips under his. He fell forward, braced himself as he fucked her slowly, pissed as hell that she got to hear him, until she hit speaker and Armie’s startled laugh was the only thing that mattered. “Sorry he’s a little busy, huh babe?”

“Stop—Armie I’ll call you—”

“You didn’t tell me you were on a date,” Armie said, an edge to his voice that made Timmy’s dick twitch. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Are you into this?”

“Into what—what’s going on?” Armie asked. Timmy felt like the worst fucking friend in the world. He wanted to get off, he wanted to hide, he wanted to never hear Armie’s voice again because he didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve his kindness and—

“He’s fucking me. I think I embarrassed him. Maybe he should call you—”

“Woah woah wait you’re—” Timmy whimpered, pulled out of the woman, rolled onto his back.

“Shit. He should call you back—”

“Tim.” But she hung up, and Timmy was nearly in tears because he needed to come and he probably just ruined his relationship with Armie.

“You aren’t... the two of you aren’t together, are you? I didn’t just...”He dropped his arms and looked at her sadly.

“We’re not. It’s okay, it happens,” which sounded like a line, even if it was the truth.

He went back to Armie’s place, but only after she got him off. I feel bad, I shouldn’t have picked up, she had said, but he told her not to worry about it. He couldn’t fight the guilt in his gut much longer.

Armie was waiting for him with a smirk. “I can’t believe you answered the phone.”

“Technically she answered the phone,” he groaned, hands flying up to cover his face.

“I got to hand it to you. I’ve never even done that.” Timmy gaped at him, but he just shrugged. “Seems kind of hot. Was it hot?”

“You’re asking if—” Timmy’s eyes went wide, face fire hot.

“Maybe I’ll have to try it,” Armie smirked, and Timmy nearly begged him not to.  

He wished it would have stopped there.

Like a nightmare, he sought out someone to take his mind off of Armie and before he could even suck the guy’s dick, he saw a text from Armie. He knew if he didn’t reply, Armie would call; he always called. But he also felt like he couldn’t handle it that day and he needed some sort of release, so he ignored the text. The guy was strong, skin dark and stunning and he wanted to know what every inch of him tasted like, but Timmy was the one being worshiped. He felt weightless when Armie called, and when the guy asked if it was important, Timmy said, “No, but he’s going to keep calling if I don’t pick up. Happens every time.” And for whatever reason, the man between his legs didn’t seem fazed. He told him he could answer if he wanted, that he would be quiet until he hung up, and Timmy wondered if he knew that conversations with Armie were anything but brief. He felt too weak to fight it, so he answered and sighed a hello, his leg draping over the guy’s shoulder. Armie told him a story, but Timmy could barely focus with the way the man sucked at his skin, toyed with his balls, pressed a finger into him. He whimpered before he could stop it from happening and heard Armie clear his throat. The lack of a question about the noise seemed important, but Timmy didn’t really feel like forming words. Armie asked him if he was alright. “Yeah, yeah I’m uh, I’m good. Tired,” he managed, cringing at how breathless he felt. His head thumped back on the bed when a second finger was added and he couldn’t help but say, “S’not really a good time,” through a sigh. His fingers twisted into the guy’s hair and he barely fought a moan. It was always better when he could hear Armie. “Can I call you later?”

“Timmy...” The hesitation to end the call, Timmy would later learn, was entirely selfish. He made more noise than he realized, and Armie had been transfixed.

“I just, need to go,” Timmy murmured, ending the call with a moan that Armie caught the first second of. He came harder than he had in months, and when he saw the guy again, he turned his phone off. Pretended it was just as good as the first time. The guy asked him about it afterwards and he shrugged as he laced his shoes back up. “It happens every time like clockwork. It’s like he can sense I’m getting laid,” he laughed awkwardly. “Better to just avoid it.”

“I thought it was kind of hot last time,” the guy admitted. Timmy watched him as his phone powered back on with mild interest. “You’re pretty loud in bed, I’m surprised he hasn’t caught on.”

“I’m averagely loud in bed,” Timmy rolled his eyes, blushing. “Besides that’s why it stresses me out.”

“Okay but.” Timmy huffed a laugh when he saw he had one missed call. “You get off on it, don’t you?”

“Excuse me?” Timmy turned to stare wide eyed at him.

“You like. Blacked out last time.”

“I didn’t—”

“And this time was good but not that.” Timmy felt like he was on fire, but the guy didn’t shut up. “What is it? The power dynamics or something? Or having to control yourself? It’s that, isn’t it? Because it’s like he’s telling you to be quiet.”

“It’s not—no,” Timmy shifts, feeling itchy.

“Would you come that hard if I told you not to make any noise? Or is it him that makes you come that hard?”

“Could you not make me have an anxiety attack after sex, jesus christ,” Timmy groaned, trying not to think about it. He did not need this, not when he was supposed to see Armie the next day. (Elizabeth was going out of town for a baking thing and Armie invited him to crash, keep him company while he learned lines for a project.) So no, he didn’t need to think about it now. Period. Because it wouldn’t happen again.

“If it’s not him, prove it.” Timmy narrowed his eyes. “Let me fuck you. Call him. Prove me wrong.”

“I don’t understand, what’s your measure of success here?” Timmy asks, licking his lips.

“I’ll tell you to be quiet, and when that doesn’t get you off, you call him.”

“This is insane,” Timmy laughed, a hand through his hair to calm himself somehow. “That doesn’t even make sense—why do you care?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Kind of just want to see if you can get off again so soon after being fucked.”

Now?

“Yes now. Are you in?”

“What do you get out of this?”

“Tim,” he sighed, stretching out to kiss him. “I’ve never seen anything as hot as you trying not to moan,” he whispers. “I’ll get something out if it. Trust me.”

Which is how Timmy ended up with his pants off once again, face down on the bed. His friend wasn’t convinced he’d be able to get hard enough to fuck him again, so he was eating Timmy out. He was on his way to hard, still recovering from before, but definitely getting there. The anticipation if what was to happen only egged him on, but he told himself it was just because it was taboo. It had nothing to do with Armie. Even with his face smushed against a pillow, Timmy couldn’t keep quiet. “Call him,” came the voice behind him. Timmy made a noise of objection but the guy stopped what he was doing and pushed Timmy’s hips into the mattress and said, “Call him or I stop.”

And okay, Timmy knew it was fucked up. He knew he should absolutely never have agreed to this. But there was something about it he needed. So he turned over onto his back and reached blindly for his phone.

The guy helped him find it before shoving Timmy’s t shirt up his torso to suck on the bones of his hips. Timmy let out a startled moan at the sensation and gripped the phone tighter. “I can’t.”

“Why? Feels wrong? How many times have you answered while getting fucked, Timmy?” He only moaned in response, his mind shuffling through all the other times he’d heard Armie while hooking up with someone. His body was a livewire. “Think you can be quiet?”

“Dunno,” Timmy whined and pressed his fingers through the guy’s hair. He stopped his attention to Timmy’s hips and looked up at him until Timmy flushed bright red and scrambled for the phone. “This is so stupid,” he muttered, but he was suddenly hard just thinking about it and when it started ringing, the guy pressed his mouth against Timmy’s balls and everything sort of faded out because there it was, Armie’s voice.

“Hey! I tried calling you—”

“Yeah, yeah sorry I missed your call,” Timmy said, thighs squeezing around the guy’s shoulders to control himself. His hand fisted in the sheets as he clenched his eyes closed and breathed through his nose. “What’s up?”

“You okay? You sound—strained.”

“Mhmm,” Timmy’s leg kicked up and connected with the guy’s shoulder; his tongue was pushing into him and Timmy hadn’t expected it. The kick earned him a nip at his inner thigh, which didn’t exactly help matters.

“Timmy?”

“Sorry, sorry uh... I’m good. Tired. What’s up?” He had to bite his lip to stop his breath from catching. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was already close. From almost nothing, after having just come not that long before. Armie was talking about his trip the following day and Timmy could barely keep answering with single word responses. The guy between his legs was milking him and Armie’s voice had that low rumble he liked as he told him all the things he wanted to do that weekend with him and he could hardly breathe and suddenly he felt it happening, tried shoving the guy away from him, but only managed a, “Fuck! Fucking stop it!” before the phone fell to the bed and he was coming.

He vaguely remembers the guy picking the phone up and towering over Timmy as he said, “Sorry I think Timmy’s gonna have to call you back,” and hung up.

“Shit,” Timmy gasped, oversensitive and embarrassed and considering whether or not he should just cancel his trip to LA.

“You are. So hot. It’s unreal,” the guy moaned. “I was right, by the way. He’s definitely the one getting you off, not the call.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Timmy practically sobbed in embarrassment, rolling onto his side to get dressed. “I didn’t want to fucking come.”

“I didn’t mean to make you! Jesus you didn’t even last five minutes talking to him how was I supposed to know?” Timmy was mortified. His phone was ringing, again, and he was mortified.

He got dressed and left with a single text to Armie.

TC: im sorry. talk later?

AH: Are you okay??? Call me now!

He waited to look at the text until he was home. The shame skyrocketed when he realized Armie thought he was in trouble, and he quickly called him back. “I’m okay, I’m okay! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” he rushed out.

“Jesus Christ, Tim!” He could hear the frustration and anxiety in Armie’s voice and it made him sick. “Fuck. Okay well. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“It was just—” Timmy bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Who was he?” Timmy cringed.

“A friend of mine. Friend of a friend, sort of.”

“Do I want to know what was happening?” Timmy had, until that moment, not stopped moving. He was pacing, his hand twisting the corner of his shirt around his finger, lip between his teeth—a bundle of nervous energy. But the tone of Armie’s voice made him go still.

“Probably not,” he whispered, heart racing. He was met with silence on the other line. “Armie...”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Timmy swallowed hard but agreed. He didn’t sleep much that night.

 

At first, Timmy felt completely exposed. He was convinced that when Armie hugged him hello, he could see the guilt on Timmy’s face, or when he started asking about the flight and teasing him about turbulence that he could hear the difference in Timmy’s voice from their phone call. It took over an hour for his nerves to settle, but it seemed like Armie was keen to forget it ever happened and, frankly, Timmy wasn’t about to jinx whatever second chance he seemed to be handed. He could handle ruining relationships with a lot of people, but not Armie.

The sense of security he was lured into with Armie’s easy smile and laugh almost made him forget what had happened (had been happening). So when Armie knocked on the door of the guest bedroom where he was staying for the weekend, he didn’t think anything of it. And when Armie sat at the edge of his bed and stared at his hands, his heart only skipped once or twice. But when he said, “I think we need to talk about yesterday,” Timmy’s heart sank.

“Oh?”

“Why did you call me?” Timmy couldn’t answer. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and the truth felt so wrong that he didn’t dare speak it. Armie looked at him then, contemplating something Timmy couldn’t decipher. “You were sleeping with him. Right?” Timmy could only nod. “And you called me with him.”

“Yes,” Timmy whispered, eyes stinging in embarrassment.

“Was I on speaker or was that just for you?”

“Just me,” Timmy swallowed. His face was burning red and his hands shook in his lap, but Armie wouldn’t look away and he felt stuck.

“Did he know it was me?” Timmy hesitated long enough for Armie to lift his eyebrows in question. He nodded, chest tight. “Why call me?”

“Armie,” Timmy shrugged, but the nerves made it shaky.

“I’m not going to yell at you or something,” Armie frowned. “You don’t have to be so scared.”

“I just. I fucked up and. I’m—” Timmy bit his lip hard and wanted to look away but couldn’t.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Armie nodded. “I’m a little surprised to learn that you wanted to try something like that but I’m not going to get mad at you, okay? Just breathe.”

“It’s not, it wasn’t just—” Timmy couldn’t handle the way Armie was looking at him with those eyes of his that wanted to see only good. With a broken sound, Timmy covered his face with his hands and tucked his knees up to his chest. “It wasn’t just yesterday,” he admitted.

“What do you mean? Like that one time with porn?”

Timmy felt hot tears fill his eyes but he knew he had just to just say it. “No not—god Armie I wasn’t watching porn. You always call me. When I’m. You know. Hooking up.” Armie was silent, but Timmy would feel his weight shift on the bed. “I don’t know how you always know but it just. It kept happening and I didn’t even want to answer at first but then it was like this thing and I couldn’t stop and—”

“Wait, hold on. What are we talking about exactly?” Suddenly Timmy’s hands were being pulled away from his face, hands pressing down on his knees to get him to stop hiding. Armie looked a little flushed, but Timmy couldn’t focus on that.

“Don’t make me say it.”

“I think I actually need you to, Tim,” Armie huffed, almost in a laugh. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head at Timmy. “You know I am the last person who is going to judge you. Just tell me. You… what? Do you answer for anyone or—” Armie stumbled on his words, his ears bright red.

Timmy knew it couldn’t go on forever, so he told him. Told him how it happened the first time, how he didn’t know how to stop because it felt good. Told him about the guy that made him answer, about the woman who thought it was charming but blamed herself for his meltdown. Told him everything except the guy from the day before. His face was hot and splotchy by the end of it. “And yesterday?”

“Yesterday.…” Timmy sighed and looked away. “He kind of dared me to do it. He already… fuck. We already had sex. That’s why I missed your call I just… didn’t want it to happen again. But then he asked and… I don’t know, Armie. He thought it was hot. He told me he could prove that it was you that was--” Timmy sputtered out, his face scrunching up.

“What?”

He cringed and closed his eyes. “That you were the reason I was coming so hard.”

“Oh.” Timmy couldn’t look at him, but a warm hand on his leg made it hard not to. “Tim.”

“Before you say anything else I think you should just know that I feel like shit and—”

“Timmy.”

“—if I could take it back I would because I fucking love you and--”

“Tim.”

“—I can’t stand the thought—”

“Tim!” Armie’s hand came to rest against Timmy’s cheek, thumb pushing over his lips. “Wait, did you say you love me?” Timmy groaned and tried to fight away from Armie’s grip, but he managed to keep him on the bed close to him. “Hey. Can we talk about this?”

“Talk about what! How, how I’ve been using you for sex without you knowing or the fact that I’m in love with you? Which one of those great topics do you want to dig into, Armie?”

“Why are you treating this like it’s something I’ll hate you for?”

“Isn’t it?” Timmy laughed, but there was no humor behind it, only misery.

Armie looked at him for a long moment. “You should really reconsider your boundaries with phone calls, Tim. Anyone else and that could have been really bad.”

“Anyone else?”

“Okay, it’s pretty bad, I’ll admit. Do I wish you had just… told me? Yes. But I also realize that you probably didn’t think telling me was an option.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Timmy’s eyes were wide.

“I don’t know how to fucking say this,” Armie laughed uncomfortably. “I guess—I don’t know. Do you want me?”

“What?” Timmy sputtered out. “What—I—I mean, yes, obviously—”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Okay?” Armie shrugged and Timmy fell back on his bed with a huff. “Why are you being so confusing?”

“I’m not trying to be—” Armie’s hand connected with Timmy’s ankle and something about it, being on a bed, skin on his, Armie’s voice—he gasped. “I wish I knew you wanted me all this time,” Armie said. His voice was low and Timmy had the distinct feeling of drowning. “I’ve—jesus, Timmy. I’ve wanted you for… forever.”

Even with the embarrassment of admitting everything, even with how sure Timmy was that he had probably offended Armie at least a little, this was still the most flushed he’d felt all evening. He blinked his eyes open and found Armie’s gaze. “What?”

“You should have just told me,” Armie sighed, but it sounded more like a laugh and Timmy was sitting up, trying to get closer, because usually he had Armie’s voice in his ear when he wanted him this badly. “I would have… I don’t know. I guess maybe there was nothing more I could do,” he smirked, and Timmy felt drunk as he pressed his hands into Armie’s shoulders to stabilize himself. Armie’s hand lifted to Timmy’s waist and everything faded out.

“Fuck, I want you,” Timmy whined, low and steady as his head fell to Armie’s shoulder. “So much.”

Armie kissed him like he’d been starving for it. And maybe he had been, because every time Timmy was struggling on the phone with him, Armie had heard his airy voice and felt guilty for getting turned on. Had felt like the worst friend when he called him because he was so in love with him that it hurt, only for Timmy to tell him it was a bad time, that he’d call later, for Armie to be put on the backburner of Timmy’s life. He had been starving for Timmy to want him back as badly as he had grown to want him, and every second they were together was agonizing because Armie felt like it was impossible to take the plunge.

When Timmy had answered the time he was having sex—well, the time Armie knew he was having sex—Armie had to go for a drive and blare music to convince himself it was okay if Timmy wanted someone else. He had been desperate, just in different ways.

Timmy didn’t last long, barely lasted at all, but came a second time while Armie was inside of him. Armie felt like he was on fire every second Timmy touched him, and Timmy couldn’t help but sob, just a little, when he started to feel oversensitive. He fell asleep within minutes of Armie rolling off him, so exhausted and sated that his body had no other option.

When they woke up, Timmy found that the voice on the phone was absolutely nothing to Armie’s voice in his ear as he moved in him, or the voice shouted out above him, the one that was laughing manically in the kitchen as Timmy rapped to fake-impress him, the voice in the shower telling Timmy all the times he wished he could have been with him, could have held him, told him he loved him.

The voice on the phone, as it turned out, was barely anything at all. Just a desire, a dream, for the real thing.

Timmy stopped answering Armie’s calls, insisted he only FaceTime him. He didn’t want there to ever be any doubt. And besides, the look on Armie’s face when he answered always took his breath away.