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Title: The Promise of Milan
Author: [ profile] steinsgrrl
Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Pairing: Tom/Bill
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I in no way intend to insinuate that any of the below actually happened. It is simply a piece of written entertainment based on the public personas of real people.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Adult Content, Light Kink
Summary: In the moments before Bill hits the runway in Milan, Tom questions their future. Until he sees Bill.
Author's Note: For [ profile] traumheist, because she offered her first born. ;) Thank you to my lovely beta, [ profile] ma_chelle and banner maker, [ profile] lrigrl. Also, [ profile] fyredancer for the mutual cheerleading. :)

There were half naked men everywhere.

In one corner, a man with no pants on donned a bright pink button down shirt, manipulating the buttons through the eyelets with quick fingers. He caught Tom's eye as Tom tried to dodge yet another person frantically grabbing clothes from the large racks on the other side of the room and scurrying over to the models. Tom felt his face flush as the guy in pink winked at him and Tom bit at his lip ring, looking away. He mumbled under his breath about brothers who aren’t happy enough being international rock stars and think they have to be fashion models, too. Finally, off in the corner, Tom found Bill, just as his brother went through a door and it closed behind him.

Tom worried his lip as he fought his way through the models, assistants, cosmetologists and various go-fers. Dean and Dan had asked if Bill wanted to open the show today and of course Bill had jumped at the chance. He was beautiful and he knew he was beautiful, so why not? But Tom worried. What if Bill liked modeling more than being in the band? What if he did this and decided he was tired of the life they’d been leading? The life they’d wanted since they were little? The taste of new adventure might be too delicious and make their regular life seem bland and Tom tried to breathe deeply as his stomach churned in trepidation.

Facing the door, Tom's knock was gentle and he hoped his brother would hear it over the chaos that had to be going on around him. He’d seen several people go into the dressing room with Bill, the room Bill had specifically requested. There was no way his brother would take a chance that someone backstage might be hiding a camera somewhere. They definitely didn’t need to see Bill’s junk hanging out all over the pages of Bild, even pixilated.

Tom knocked again, not so sure this time that Bill had heard him, and just as he dropped his hand and stuffed it in his pocket, an assistant opened the door. She obviously wasn’t their assistant, since they hadn’t brought anyone but bodyguards and Nathalie with them, and Tom didn’t even know this girl’s name but it didn’t matter; he wasn’t focused on her anyway.

He could see his brother through the people weaving around him, straightening his clothes, fussing with his hair and touching up his makeup, and the sight took his breath away.

Bill looked up, as if feeling his brother’s presence and the room stopped. The fussing stopped, the straightening stopped and with a quiet word, just the bare movement of Bill’s lips, the assistants and dressers dropped what they were doing and began to file out. A few of them bumped Tom's shoulder as he blocked the door, blonde hair sliding across his black coat as they scooted by him. Tom barely noticed.

He didn’t know how but his feet seemed to work well enough to get him in the door, how his hands worked enough to close the door and lock it, but they did and then he was standing before his brother, awestruck.

“Jesus, Bill,” he breathed. “Have you seen yourself?” Tom couldn’t drag his eyes away from his brother if he wanted to, and God knew he didn’t want to.

Bill blushed and bit his lip, ducking his head but raising his eyes and looking hopeful. “Um. Yeah? Do you like it?”

It took everything Tom had not to scoff in Bill’s face. “Oh,” he paused, lifting a hand tentatively to barely touch one of the feathers on Bill’s outfit, petting it. “Yeah, I really like it.”

“Yeah?” Bill smiled and relief was light in his voice as he brushed down Tom's tee shirt with black, manicured fingertips, scratching at the fabric just enough to pull it taut in their wake.

“Fuck yeah.” Bill hadn’t styled his hawk up and that was good, as far as Tom was concerned; he liked it much better down and loose. Better to run his fingers through that way. His makeup was perfect, and he looked beautiful. The only vision more beautiful than Bill made up perfectly was Bill with no makeup, unraveled beneath him.

Bill sucked in a breath and Tom caught his eyes. They always said in interviews that they knew what the other was thinking and they weren’t lying. He figured Bill could read it on his face besides, and his brother’s eyes mirrored his, he was sure. They were dark, full of need and want and fuck me quick and Tom wasn’t one to disagree with his brother when he really wanted something.

“Tom,” Bill started, and that was it. Tom grabbed him by the chains and yanked him forward, snaking an arm around Bill’s waist while trying to avoid the spikes scattered amongst the rhinestones on Bill’s vest.

“Sorry, sorry.” Bill murmured, bending his head and Tom leaned up, cursing those damn high heels that Bill liked so much, but then he claimed Bill’s lips possessively, sucking on them roughly, laving his tongue across Bill’s until Bill whimpered around it. Tom turned them, backing Bill into the door with a thud, not even caring that there were people on the other side. The only thing he cared about was in this room, in his arms and Tom wound his arms tighter around Bill, not caring about the hard spikes of Bill’s costume digging into his chest, after all.

Tom pulled back, just far enough to run starving eyes down Bill’s body, taking in all the PVC, rhinestones, chains and laces that made up his outfit.

Laces. The front of Bill’s pants had laces.

Tom dropped slowly to his knees, running his fingers teasingly down Bill’s sides, over the chains of his jacket as his did and his brother’s eyes followed him down. Tom gave him his best naughty grin as he untied the laces on one side and then the other before pulling at them slowly, one by one. He slid each string through the holes torturously slowly, his tongue and lips open and wet, suckling at each new piece of soft skin revealed. When Bill’s laces were loosened enough, Tom reached inside and stopped breathing.

Bill wasn’t wearing underwear. Not a thong, not even a g-string. His brother was going to go up on that catwalk in these skin tight leather pants with no underwear. Tom's cock twitched in his jeans, hardening faster than he’d known possible and he groaned from deep in his chest, rubbing his face against the leather covering Bill’s dick. Bill answered his groan and scratched his fingers through the valleys between Tom's cornrows.

“As much as I’d really like that right now,” Bill started, his voice deep with need, “we don’t have time. Just…Jesus, Tom, just fuck me.” He trailed off, breathily and just this side of a whine.

With one last deep breath, inhaling Bill’s scent of leather and musk, Tom stood and spun Bill around, pushing him up against the door. Bill caught himself before he hit, and Tom ran his hands up Bill’s back, petting the feathers on his shoulders before skimming briskly over his arms, pressing Bill’s hands into the door on either side of his head.

“Keep ‘em there.” He grunted in Bill’s ear, as he fumbled with the back of Bill’s pants. There was a zipper there, Tom had felt it when he’d wrapped his arms around his brother before, and now he found the tab at the top. He pulled it slowly, wanting to get in there quickly but not wanting to catch any of Bill’s bare skin in sharp, metal teeth. When the zipper reached the bottom, Tom parted the material on either side before sucking on his finger, wetting it until it was slick and ran that finger down the crack of Bill’s ass. Quickly, Tom opened his jeans and freed his aching cock, pumping it a couple times.

“No.” Bill looked over his shoulder. “If we just use spit, I’ll look like I have a damn stick up my ass on the catwalk. Use that lotion.” He nodded his head toward the makeup table and Tom shuffled over to it, finding the bottle he meant right away.

He squirted some in his hand and rubbed it over his fingers, trying to warm it a little.

“C’mon, do it!” Bill whispered, sounding frantic. Tom knew they were running out of time and if he wanted to get in there—and he wanted to get in there—he needed to do it now.

“Okay, okay, fuck.” He slid one finger into Bill without warning and his brother keened against the wood of the door under his cheek. “Shhh, fuck, Bill.” Tom slid in another finger, scissoring carefully and Bill’s knees bent a little, his fingers turning white at the knuckles and his nails digging into the door. On the third finger, Bill reached back and grabbed Tom's wrist. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes smoldering and lips red and swollen from biting at them to quiet himself.

“Goddamn it, fuck me, Tom,” Bill ordered huskily, and who the hell was Tom to say no?

He grabbed the lotion and pumped it a couple times, squirting a generous amount in his palm and wincing as he slicked it cold around his cock. But then the head of his dick was against the tight hole of Bill’s ass. He could feel the heat inside there, just waiting for him, and Tom held his breath and pushed inside. In one long, slow thrust, he was deep inside his brother and he paused there while Bill’s hot walls clenched and pulsated around him, wanting to give Bill time to adjust. What he really wanted to do was just slam Bill against that door, fuck him hard and long until Bill screamed out his name and called to all sorts of deities neither of them believed in, but Tom didn’t want to hurt him, and so he paused. He breathed out a long breath and waited.

Bill didn’t seem to need the adjustment, though, because in the time it took for Tom to lose that breath, Bill pushed back. He thrust his ass back, spearing himself further onto Tom's dick and Tom grunted, grabbing Bill’s hips just to hang on. Tom pulled back sharply and shoved his hips forward again, slamming his cock up into Bill’s tight hole and they rutted there against the wood, in that little room, sweat running down the valley in the center of Tom's back and his braids swinging against his cheeks as he pistoned himself into his brother again and again.

Bill gasped and groaned and made all the pretty little noises that Tom had come to know and crave, and it only made Tom want to hear more. He wanted to hear his brother’s breath hitch and he wanted to hear Bill whine with the need to come hard around Tom's cock. Bill’s cheek, sweat slicked and flushed, slid against the door, bumping upward each time Tom thrust into him and moisture beaded on Bill’s forehead and lip. Tom watched, his heart pumping hard, his belly tightening as Bill licked at his lips and flashed the tongue stud that he used like a lethal weapon on Tom's self control. His makeup was smudged around his eyes, but no way in hell was Tom stopping now; not when he was so close.

He needed to finish; they needed to finish, and Tom reached for Bill’s neck, wrapping his hand in Bill’s chains again and pulled back just hard enough to command but not enough to leave a mark. Bill shot him a scorching look, his eyes flashing, and Tom planted the heel of his palm on Bill’s shoulder, pushing him down and making him slide down the door, changing the angle. Bill’s nails scratched into the wood as they scrabbled against it before his eyes clamped shut and Bill dropped an arm with a grunt, jamming a delicate hand down the front of his pants. Tom could see he was jacking himself fast and hard and then Bill was whimpering and suddenly it was as if Tom's cock was clamped in a hot, tight vice. Bill clenched down on him hard, his mouth open wide, baring his teeth in a silent scream as he shot his load.

And that was all it took. Tom reared his head back, gritted his teeth and pumped, long and smooth into his brother’s tight ass, his dick squeezed so hard that his orgasm was almost painful. The heat that had been coiling in his belly rushed in electric pulses through his veins and he found himself gripping his brother hips reflexively, trying not to fall down as his knees threatened to give way.

Tom petted down Bill’s back as they caught their breath, fully aware that someone would be knocking on the door any moment to find out what the hell was Bill’s hold up.

“Tom…” Bill reached back his hand, now covered in his own come and Tom looked at it in confusion for a moment before it dawned on him what Bill wanted.

“Right.” He held onto his pants and waddled to the vanity, grabbed the box of tissues and brought it back to Bill. They cleaned up in silence, discarding the evidence in the garbage and righting their clothing. Tom had just managed to get the last of Bill’s laces tied again before the inevitable knock on the door.

Before Bill could answer it, though, Tom caught his wrist and slid his fingers down, twining them with Bill’s. “You ready for this?” He asked, when his brother turned back to him, one glitter speckled eyebrow raised in question. “This could be huge, you know? Could change everything.”

Bill met his gaze boldly and cupped his palm against Tom's cheek. “It won’t change everything.” He kissed Tom firmly, tongue just dipping sweetly between Tom's lips. “It won’t change the most important thing. I promise.”

Tom nodded, never losing sight of Bill’s eyes or the truth of his words, and Bill smiled brightly and turned to open the door.

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