ALPHA || TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET

017

"I think you should stay."

The words are a release. A dam breaking, one which held back a violent river rush, water now crashing through shattered debris. Words which remind me that, come tomorrow, I may be angry. I may be regretful and hungover and kicking myself for the night's mistakes. But right now, I'm not any of those things. I am here. Timothée is here, his frame nearly enveloping me on the couch, his thumb gently grazing my bottom lip, his index resting just below my chin.

I notice that his eyes are waiting for an answer. Those caramel eyes. "Okay," I whisper, both my nervousness and exhilaration making their presence known.

And my gut wrenches.

"I, um. I need to use the bathroom," I say, taking his hand and intending to rest it on his chest so I can try to get up. Instead, his fingers capture mine for a moment, intertwining them. His eyes are fixed on my hand before shifting to my face. He sits up, his face having shifted as well, showing concern.

"Do you - do you wanna leave instead?" he asks, my fingers still loosely intertwined with his. He searches my face. "Is this okay?" The emotion, the concern. It reminds me of just how much he hasn't turned out to be a typical hookup. Not at all.

"I, um. I'll be right back," I try to play cool, failing. I get up, making my way down the short hallway to his bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I slide down to the floor and sit, my back resting against the door, and I stare at the ground. Wondering if I should be here at all. Wondering if I should go. Turning memories over in my head, a million question marks, exclamation points, coursing through my thoughts.

And I think of the boy whose apartment I'm in. The boy I met over a dating app and met at a bar not long ago. The movie star. The night we shared, and how I'd let emotion make its way into what I'd intended to limit to one time. Nothing more.

But it's becoming something. The beginning to something. The alpha. There came the missing. And the wanting. And the longing. The curiosity. The safeness. That damn curly hair. His damn smile. Him. Damn him.

Damn him.

I stand for a moment, leaning over the counter. Staring at my reflection. Knowing what I want.

My hand is still shaking as I turn the doorknob and fling it open. And I'm startled to see him standing there, his hand up like he was about to knock. The hand moves to his hair.

"Hey. Are you okay? I'm sorry. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. If you need to go, then-"

My hand goes to cover his mouth as I step closer, giggling.

"What?" he mumbles, letting a giggle out himself, a grin spreading. And I melt into the ground.

The hallway is dark, and I feel the universe's inevitable chemical reaction pulling the two of us together. My hand rests on his cheek, pulling at a curl that hangs in his face. "What?" he says again, even though he knows what. His hands begin running slowly up and down my back, then resting around my waist, and yes, I am most definitely now a puddle on the floor.

"Shhh." My hands rest on either side of his face, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. His mouth hangs open, his expression one of sultriness. I'm close enough to hear his heartbeat. I wonder if he can hear mine. His eyelids flutter as he looks from my lips to my eyes, and there is a sense of wonder and peace, the energy in the air enough to confirm our mutual intentions.

He begins stepping away from the wall, walking backwards, pulling me with him, arms around my waist. Our mouths just barely meeting. I'm pulled back into the living room. And my lips meet his at last, closing whatever space was left between us, as we both topple onto his couch.

My hands are in his hair. He's on top of me, our tongues dancing, a fire we knew would light again once more. I remember that he tastes like cherries. His hands run up and down my frame and I take the fabric of his shirt, fumbling with the collar, trying to tug it over his head, and he sits up, pulling it off himself.

I begin to pull at the bottom of my shirt, his hands immediately moving to pull it off on his own, his face buried in my neck, kissing around my jawline, collarbone, cheek, lips, then making their way down my chest, hungrily and tenderly all at once, planting kisses down to my stomach.

His hands creep back up my chest, and I'm gasping for breath from his energy, but I don't stop. He throws my sweater to the floor, staring at me up and down, foreheads touching, before collapsing into me again.

As we kiss, through the sensual atmosphere and desire, there is still a giggle between us, so light and sweet. I feel a smile on his lips as he kisses me, and I return it. Then he's helping me pull off my pants, and my legs wrap around his waist as he pulls me up, his hands on my ass, my lips exploring his cheeks, his jawline, his neck.

We collapse onto the bed in his room, and he is electrocuting. A powerful prowess. His lips make their way down my neck, down my stomach, between my thighs, holding them each as he kisses between my legs, and once again, I am lost in his room, on his bed, in his sheets.

He hovers over me, pausing. His mouth opens as his eyes run over my body, my face. His face sinks into my neck, lips next to my ear as he huffs, out of breath, "You have no idea how fucking badly I wanted this again."

He's magical. He's so magical. He's powerful.

"You're magical," I accidentally let out, a passionate whisper.

I feel a grin curl on his mouth, his lips on my neck. His breath when he says, "You're so fucking beautiful."

The dam has broken, and the violent rushing river is flooding the room, and I want to drown in all of it.

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a/n: excited for these next few chapters ❤️ i hope you all enjoy.