waking up in paris | Timothee Chalamet One-Shot
{ song suggestion: paris by chainsmokers }
My eyes open slowly, the milky light coming in from the hotel windows washing over me in a blanket, turning my creamy skin white, and casting a blonde glow onto my hair.
I shift slowly, careful not to wake him up.
Once I’m on my side, I allow myself to look at him—It’s never enough, oddly.
He’s beautiful.
Dark waves tousled from sleep and last nights events are casted against his pillow, and his face is turned up, the light touching every delicate feature.
A small smile turns the corners of my mouth up.
I will never get tired of mornings like this.
Deciding not to just stare at him for the next several minutes, I slip out of bed, letting the sheets fall off of me as I stand up.
The soreness between my legs will fade once I move around.
If I was anywhere but Paris, I would be horrified to stand in front of an uncovered window naked. France has a different aire, and I don’t feel the least bit of shame as I walk past the panes of glass to the bathroom.
The violet satin robe he bought me for my birthday last year is hung up next to the shower. I slip it on easily, and pull my hair up into a soft bun.
I do what I need to, brushing my teeth and using the bathroom and such, and finally finish waking up.
When I step out of the bathroom, I see him shifting, waking up gently.
“Good morning, mon amor,” I say, even though I feel a little silly.
French is definitely not my second language, but since it is my boyfriend’s, being in Paris with him has only increased my french vocabulary.
He opens his eyes, the vivid green catching hold of mine and making my heartbeat quicken a bit.
He always has this affect on me.
He mumbles something inaudible, before sitting up slowly, the light from the windows blending in with the smooth skin of his chest and shoulders.
“Mmmaksenke..” he repeats, and for the life of me, I still can’t understand him.
“What?” I ask, trying not to laugh, even though my confusion is getting the best of me.
He rolls his eyes playfully, before gesturing for me to walk over there, tilting his head to the side.
“Embrasse-moi,” is all he says, a phrase I’m familiar with now.
My cheeks warm as I approach the bed again.
“Hello to you too,” I giggle, and touch his face lightly, my nails tracing the skin of his jaw, his neck.
He gives me a dreamy look I’ll never get sick of, and his hands, though loving, and, at times, extremely dominate, grab onto the tie of my robe, and tug gently.
I roll my eyes half-heartedly and bring my mouth to his, our lips molding together perfectly, igniting the safest and most beautiful feeling I’ve ever felt inside me.
The robe slips off of my shoulders and onto the ground, and in half a moment, he’s pulling me back into bed, back under the white-wash duvet.
Our legs tangle together, skin against skin, and I’m glowing, suddenly not caring about how sensitive I am from last nights events, the urge to christen the sheets beneath us again growing inside me.
His eyes shine down onto mine as he smiles, the sight causing my heart to constrict. His hands run up and down my sides gently, slowly, and I’m blushing, everything about him affecting me greatly.
“I love you,” He whispers, as he presses another chaste kiss onto my lips.
“I love you too,” I reply.
It doesn’t take long until we’re one again, the Parisian light the only light in the room, the smell of espresso and rose petals and pastries and him intoxicating my senses.
I will never get tired of waking up in Paris.
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A/N
hello ok so this is my first one shot don’t attack me if it’s horrible but I’m gonna start tryna post a lot because I only write full out books on wattpad and never really do short stuff so hope u liked it hehe