Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

Harry, the Incubus, and Me (P9)

Info - regretting sex, thinking partner is disgusting, losing family, time acting weird, emotional cheating, wanting to break up, incubus Timothée

Giving Harry permission to sleep with a Succubi had somehow worked and back fired all at once. Yes he now understood what I was going through, but he said he hadn't found his out of this world experience desirable a second time. He was horrified that enjoyed and even craved what I'd been getting from Timothée.

We'd been avoiding one another. Sleeping in the same bed was about as close as we got. For a while that hadn't even happened because he'd spent longer in the Healers Wing than me.

One night I couldn't sleep beside Harry anymore. The images in my head of our beautiful house, wedding vows, and small children were all fading. I didn't even blame Timothée.

I got up to walk around. I was surprised Timothée wasn't at my door. I began to wander, not quite sure what I was looking for. Finally I felt a gust of cool air. I was surprised, it was always hot down here. I approached the yawning cave mouth where I'd felt the air. I came out onto a small island, floating in a Red Sea. The waves were turbulent but didn't come to the shore. The sky had a multitude of red stars.

I saw him then, leaning up against a large redwood tree, that looked odd against the black dirt. He had a guitar and I could hear his soft voice. As I approached I felt like I was listening to angel, not a demon. How could an Incubus have a voice so pure?

"So sleep, sleep, and know I love you," I heard the last words of his tune.

"You have a beautiful voice," I said. He turned and smiled, and patted the dirt next to him. I felt his breath hitch when I laid my head on his shoulder.

"What is this?" I asked.

"The outside, the sea goes around the whole expanse of our realm. I wouldn't want to face the creatures in the waters," he shivered.

"So in there, that's all there is?" I asked.

"There's more further down. We enjoy living under the surface and not above. Not to mention when our sun rises it gets nearly too hot to be out here. A human would surely die."

"Why are you out here?" I asked.

"Every night, I sing my children a lullaby, and let them know their daddy still loves them," he said with a sad smile. I felt my heart break a little.

"They say on earth, if you're looking at a star, you aren't really seeing the present version of it. I don't know much science, but I just hope with the weird way time works here, maybe all those years in the past my children will know I didn't willfully leave them. They'll know I love them."

"I'm sorry about all this," I said softly.

"It isn't your fault," he shrugged.

"What about your wife? Do you sing to her?" I asked, before realizing what dangerous ground that was with how I'd been feeling lately.

"I used to," he trailed off.

"Why not anymore?" I asked.

"It's a recent thing," he said slowly. I felt my heart beat stutter. Did he mean what I thought he meant? Could he? Why did I want that, to not only string along one fool but two. I should just be eviscerated to save everyone the trouble.

"How do you know you'd be attracted to me without the target?" He asked suddenly and I heated up. I removed myself from his shoulder. "Harry and I aren't exactly twins."

"Maybe Harry isn't my type, ever think of that," I said.

"You're going to marry someone who isn't your type?" Timothée asked with a chuckle.

"Sometimes it happens on earth. You just meet the one and it doesn't matter what you preferred because that person is the one for you."

I realized I knew very well what I was talking about, but Harry wasn't the latter he was the former. Timothée was the one who hadn't been my type originally.

"So Harry is the one for you?"

"I didn't say that either," I hedged.

"You're being very confusing," he chuckled.

"I know, I just feel like I can't think straight," I said, putting my head in my hands dismally.

"I'm sorry," he said and rubbed my back. How he could give me chills when it was always so warm here was beyond me.

"Shall I sing you a song? You seem agitated," he said gently.

"Please," I said in a whisper. He began to sing a beautiful song that sounded ancient. He sung it in French, pronouncing each word delicately.

"How was that?" He asked.

"Just perfect," I choked out, because the song had made me fall harder. I remembered when I'd cherished Harry singing in my ear. If he did that now, would it have the same affect?

"I've gotta go," I said, and he nodded and kissed me on the forehead. This dazed me so much it took me three tries to get to my bedroom. Finally, I slipped back in bed with Harry. I stared at him for a long, long time.

"I want to break up with you," I tried out the words on my tongue. He didn't stir.

"I don't want to be together anymore," I tried a little louder, half of me hoping he heard, so the cruel deed would be done.

"I don't think I love you anymore," I said next.

"What, what was that?" Harry asked groggily.

"Nothing, go back to sleep," I said, petting his hair. He pulled me to him and snuggled up to me. Guilt ate away at me all night.