Revelation, Tom/Georg, NC17
Sep. 9th, 2009 08:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
steins_storiesTitle: Revelation
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
steinsgrrl
Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Pairing(s): Tom/Georg
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
Summary: Tom makes an unexpected discovery while cleaning up Georg's room, one that results in a revelation he could have lived without. Or so he thought.
FQF Prompt: Georg/Tom - Tom accidentally stumbles onto some relatively tame pictures of guys making out and it turns him on. He's confused and somewhat dismayed, so he goes to talk to Georg, because he knows Georg is bisexual. (submitted by lirren)
Author's notes: Thank you so much to my beta,ma_chelle!
“Why the hell can't he pick up his own shit?” Tom snatched the wadded up tee shirt off the floor and added it to the pile of clothes and cds he already had tucked under his arm. “I live with pigs,” he muttered.
Looking around the room, he decided that was good enough; he'd picked up the big items and Georg and Bill could manage the rest of it when they got home from shopping. He groaned a little, thinking about the mess they would make with their bags and purchases spread out all over the living room. It would look like a damn dressing room exploded everywhere and he'd be damned if he would clean that mess up.
Georg's room was nearly as bad as the living room had been and Tom wondered how the guy could find anything. The bed wasn't made, clothes littered the floor and a stack of magazines was haphazardly piled on the floor, most of them lying open. Tom's need for cleanliness didn't come close to Gustav's level of obsessiveness, but he still liked things to be orderly. This room was anything but.
He dropped the clothes from the living room into the dirty clothes hamper and stacked the cds with the ones that were already littering the top of Georg's dresser. Grabbing the sneakers from the floor and lining them up in the closet only took a moment, but once he'd done that, he was only left with the magazines to clean up.
Tom tried not to look at the magazines, still scarred from the time he'd been tidying up magazines and had happened upon a printed 'zine with a large picture of Pete Wentz and his infamous peen. But when two of the magazines stuck together (Tom didn't even want to know why) and he couldn't close them properly, he had to look in order to get them unstuck.
He looked at the cover of the first one; it was just a men's fashion magazine. Tom snorted and wondered what the hell Georg was doing with this when he obviously didn't learn anything from it. He stacked it with the others and looked at the next magazine. And then he stopped short, staring.
OUT. The cover said OUT, and Tom wondered how the hell Georg had gotten his hands on this one without fangirls everywhere finding out about it and slitting their wrists all over the internet. The band and the crew had known for some time that Georg was bisexual, but the fans didn't know. If he got caught with a magazine like this, they'd say he was gay and all the girls he'd been to bed with were just a cover.
And they were, of sorts. The more girls Georg fooled around with, the less anyone paid attention to him chatting up some gorgeous young man in the club. Tom thought that was a fine way to hide in plain sight.
He flipped through the magazine, wondering how bad the magazine could possibly be. Besides the name, it really could be about how to pick a couch that goes with your wallpaper and the best gay-themed restaurants. Tom wasn't terribly surprised by the articles he found inside. They really did cover the best gay cruises and the status of gay marriage in different states. No, that part didn't surprise Tom at all.
What got his attention were the advertisements. More gay cruises (Damn, don't they ever just go skiing or something?), something about a 'white party', whatever the hell that was, and lots and lots of ads for condoms and lubricants. And the guys in those ads--
Tom closed the magazine quickly, his breath catching at the way his groin responded to the pictures. They were…
He cautiously opened the magazine again, just barely peeling the glossy sheets back, one by one, as if the images inside would jump out and grab him by the wrist.
It wasn't as if he hadn't seen half naked guys before. Hell, he lived with the guys in the band for months at a time while they traveled on tour. Sleeping in buses, getting quick showers when they could, running in and out of each other's hotel rooms; he'd seen them all naked more than he cared to think about. But this…this was different.
These guys were half naked and were kissing. Just kissing, that was all, but according to the tense, swirling feeling in his belly and the response from his dick, the kissing was enough. Too much.
His fingers stopped turning pages somewhere in the middle of the magazine. The article was about gay bars or some damn thing; he didn't even know, his eyes were stuck on the half page picture accompanying the article. A man with long, dark hair had a shorter haired man pinned against a wall, their arms wrapped loosely around each other's waists, their lips connected so hotly that a flash of wet tongue was visible between their gleaming lips.
“Ngh.” The strangled noise left Tom's throat before he could stop it and, startled, he slammed the magazine closed, tossed it away from him and stood up, nearly tripping over his pants as he scrambled from the room. He made for his own room as quickly as his baggy jeans and his stiff cock inside of them would let him, slamming the door and leaning hard against it. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and he rubbed a damp palm over his erection, grimacing at how good it felt. He didn't want it to feel good!
The picture seemed to be burnt into his brain because, when he squeezed his eyes closed, he could still see those men, those lips, that pink flash of tongue and it suddenly seemed very hot in the room. Tom groaned and a bead of sweat rolled down the small of his back. He ripped his tee shirt over his head and tossed it on the bed on his way to the shower.
As cool water beat down on his feverish skin, Tom bent his head under the spray, sighing in relief as his erection finally softened. He caught the water in his mouth and spit it in a stream at the cold, black tiles, wondering what the hell had just happened.
***
Tom did everything he could to avoid being alone with Georg the next day, and the day after that. Despite the odd looks Georg was giving him, despite the fact that they had been friends for so many years and Tom had always been able to tell him anything, he just couldn't bring himself to be in the same room with him without someone else there.
His reaction to the magazines had shaken him so badly that he'd locked himself in his room with his ipod and a dazzling view of the ceiling from his bed. Occasionally, he'd drag himself stiffly over to the window to smoke, but for the most part, he sat and he paced and he mumbled and thought about those pictures. The pictures that were linked in his mind to Georg. Georg's room, Georg's pictures, Georg's fault.
He wanted to talk to Bill about this, he really did. However, while everyone took Bill for gay, the truth was that Bill was a bigger poon hound than all of them combined. He just had security that was better than the damn secret service at getting girls to his room and getting them out of there again when their little interlude was over. So while Tom might really want to, this was the one thing he couldn't talk to Bill about. Besides, he'd left the day before to do voice-overs for a new animated movie. Even if he felt like he could broach the subject with his brother, he certainly wasn't bringing it up over the phone.
So he stewed on his own, playing mechanically during practices, missing chord changes during recording, playing the same parts over and over until the producers sighed and told him to go take a break.
Tom set his guitar on its stand and shoved the pick in his pocket on his way out of the studio. He went out the back door, thankful that there was no way for those crazy stalker chicks to get back there, and dropped himself into one of the chairs near the patio table. Digging his cigarettes out of his pocket, he lit one quickly and inhaled the stinging smoke hard into his lungs.
He had to get a grip on himself. Okay, so what if the sight of guys kissing had turned him on? So what? What did that even mean? Was he gay now? And how could he possibly be gay when he'd been all up in Nicole Scherzinger's hot body at the EMAs? So no, he couldn't be gay. Tom scoffed aloud and laid his head back, breathing deeply and watching the clouds. No, he couldn't be gay.
But a tiny voice in the back of his head said that he wouldn't have been hard if he didn't like it.
“Ugh!” Tom grunted and scuffed his feet in frustration against the concrete.
He'd always known exactly who he was. Tom loved women. He loved everything about them. He loved their smell and their softness and their curves. He loved their heat and their sass. Men were so different. They were on the other end of the spectrum for him. They were hard and musky and strong, and when Tom would lie back in his bed, his eyes screwed up in pleasure while his hand stroked his cock to completion, it wasn't hardness and musk and strength that sent him over the edge.
But now that he thought about it, hardness and musk and strength had never entered his mind when he'd masturbated. Tom groaned under his breath, knowing where this was going and what he was going to do, but not liking the idea a bit.
What if he let himself think of a man while he masturbated? What if he allowed himself to think of being with a man when he masturbated? And if nothing happened, if his dick stayed limp no matter how much he tugged, if he found that there was no way he was able to come thinking of a man, then he would know, right? He would know that this was all just a mistake and he could laugh it off with no harm done. Right?
Tom shook his head, stubbed out his spent cigarette and sighed as he planted his palms on the arms of the chair and pushed himself up. He was going to go take care of this shit right now.
It didn't take long to get back to the studio, beg off for the afternoon and get to his room. Once there, he locked the door and stood with his forehead against the wood, holding on to the handle for a long moment, breathing harder than he should. He couldn't believe he was feeling nervous about masturbating. He hadn't felt weird about jerking off since he was fourteen and so damn horny that he had to pull himself off in the bathroom of his grandmother's house. Now that had been weird. He didn't even want to think about how his dick twitched slightly now when he smelled medicated ointment. This was nothing like that, so everything should be fine, right? He'd just have a nice, calm, stress-reducing wank and all would be good.
He nodded confidently and stretched out on the bed, propping himself up with the pillows and getting comfortable. Letting out a long, shaky sigh, he ran a palm from his chest, down his belly and across his groin. His cock didn't stir but he could feel warmth flowing to the area and he opened the snap of his jean and unzipped them, pulling the two sides apart and pushing the fabric hastily down his thighs.
Reaching into the headboard, he found the bottle of lube he had stashed there. He opened it and watched as a thin line of lube fell from the bottle to dribble on his dick. Clicking the cap closed, he tossed the bottle away from him and spread the lube lightly over his cock with one finger, sucking in a breath as he smeared it over the head.
Okay, now for the men, he thought, lying back and wrapping his hand fully around his awakening cock. But who? He stopped stroking and contemplated. He thought of the guys in the magazine and his dick twitched in his hand, growing longer and thicker. Tom hummed to himself and started a slow stroking again, starting at the base and slicking his hand up to the top, rolling his knuckles over the swelling head.
He pictured them, the one with long hair pressing the other into the wall, ravaging him with his mouth and Tom groaned under his breath. What would it feel like to be overpowered like that? To be dominated and to lose control like that? Certainly no girl had ever done that to him.
The men in the picture came to life in his head, moving against each other and kissing harder, the man with long hair grabbing the other man's wrists and holding them over his head with one hand. The other hand moved down the guy's side until he had a handful of ass and Tom grunted, his hand moving faster on his cock.
He closed his eyes tighter, capturing the vision and making it blur and move until the long-haired man turned his head as the other one licked long, wet stripes up his neck and Tom's panting breath caught in his throat--it was Georg. It was Georg pushing that guy into the wall and Tom wondered what it would be like to be that man and then he was that man and Georg was pressing against him, his lips latched at Tom's neck, his teeth scraping heated flesh, and Tom lost it.
His legs muscles tensed, his stomach was tight and hard and his cock swelled in his hand as he arched up hard and spilled in long, viscous shots across his new Miskeen shirt.
“Fuck,” he panted, his body relaxing down into the soft bed covers. That answered that question.
***
Georg had just barely come through the door of the studio when Tom looked up from the mixing board and felt his face heat up. Glancing down at the technician who was trying to show him how the autotune effect was done, his thoughts just scattered and he knew he wouldn't be able to get them back with Georg there. He had to leave; he couldn't just be there and look at Georg and remember the vision of him kissing Tom; he couldn't see his lips, and think of feeling them on his neck. He couldn't.
Tom muttered an excuse, just loud enough for the tech to hear, and he pushed his way out of the room, scuffling as quickly as he could down the hall and out the back door, his heart hammering in his chest and his breath coming hard. Jesus, how was he going to play with this guy around him? How could he look at him and remember what he'd thought about him? How could he look at him and want him and still pretend like everything was just fucking fine?
He threw himself into a deck chair, blessing the fact he had a whole pack of cigarettes in his pocket and didn't have to worry about messing the vocals up because he planned on smoking a whole lot of these babies.
Two more days of Tom not only avoiding him but turning a lovely shade of red and dashing out at the nearest opportunity every time he entered the room was apparently enough for Georg. Halfway through his second cigarette, Tom heard the door open behind him and he tensed. It felt like all his senses were tuned to the person that came out that door, and he knew it could only be Georg. He held his breath, heavy with cigarette smoke.
“Tom.” Georg sat casually in the seat across the table from him, both of them looking out toward the greenhouse behind the studio. “What's going on with you?
Tom heard a lighter wheel spin and looked over to see Georg lighting his own cigarette and he blew his own lungful of smoke out just as Georg did. “Nothing,” he said, shortly, “Why?”
He didn't answer and when Tom looked over, Georg was staring at him. “You're all tense. Why are you all tense?”
“I'm not tense,” Tom protested too quickly, sucking on his cigarette again and crossing his legs.
Georg chuckled under his breath. “Liar.” He flicked his ashes in the ashtray and sat back, waiting.
Tom scowled at him and stubbed his cigarette out. “I'm not lying.”
“Liar.”
“What the fuck is your problem, Listing?” Tom's voice carried steel now and all he could think about was how he didn't want to be having this conversation. This conversation could lead to nothing good, but he didn't have a clue as to how to get out of it gracefully. Peacefully. With his dignity and their friendship intact.
“What the fuck is my problem? The fuck is your problem, Kaulitz? You've been weird and twitchy for nearly a week. You haven't said two words to me and when I try to talk to you, suddenly you have somewhere else to be.” Georg leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, staring hard at Tom. “So I'll ask you again, what's going on with you?”
Tom ducked his head, thinking frantically. Bill. He wished Bill was here and he could talk to him about all of this. No, it wouldn't be a particularly comfortable conversation, but at least he'd get this shit out of his system. Bill would convince him that he was straight as can be. The whole thing; fantasizing about guys, fantasizing about making out with Georg and fucking coming while fantasizing about making out with Georg was just a fluke. It was just a one-time thing and nothing to worry about. But it wasn't a one-time thing. It was a more than one-time thing and Bill wasn't here and Bill couldn't help him.
Wait…Bill wasn't here.
“Bill's not here.” Tom mumbled and toyed with his cigarette package.
“Yeah, so? Bill's not here. He's been gone for nearly a week. What does that have to do with you running out of the damn room when I try to talk to you?”
“Bill's not here, Georg. It's just…” Tom tossed the package onto the table and sat back with a drawn out sigh. “I miss him. Twins shouldn't be separated like this. It's hard on us.” He scratched his neck and looked away, hating that he was lying but knowing there was no way in hell he could tell Georg what he'd been thinking about him. He couldn't risk their friendship by telling him that. No, Tom would have to figure this out on his own.
He could feel Georg's eyes on him, feel the intensity of his stare and he risked a look just in time to see Georg squint at him and stand up quickly, his chair skittering backward and almost tipping over. “Fine. You don't want to tell me, then fine.”
“Georg--“ Tom started to stand but Georg waved him away.
“No, don't worry about it. You used to really talk to me, but now you don't want to. Okay, I got it.” Georg grasped the door handle and turned it, opening the door a sliver. “Later.”
As Georg disappeared inside the building, letting the door fall closed behind him, Tom collapsed back into the chair with a groan.
He'd really screwed it all up now.
All he'd wanted to do was get out of there. To not let Georg see him all flustered, to not let Georg know that he'd been fantasizing about him, like it would somehow be written on his blushing face. All he'd wanted was to not ruin their friendship, and Tom had screwed it all up.
“Damnit!” Tom yelled to no one. Standing up, he quickly lit a cigarette before starting to pace in front of the patio set. He paced and thought and smoked while storm clouds rolled in overhead, and he paced and thought and smoked while it started to rain. He even paced and thought and smoked, his cigarette hissing out when cold drops hit it, when it began to rain harder. In the end, Tom was soaked to the bone by the time he'd talked himself into the solution to his problem with Georg.
He'd talked himself into telling the truth.
***
Tom stood in the hall in front of Georg's door, wet and shivering and scared. It wasn't a position he ever thought he'd find himself in and he cursed the day he found those damn magazines.
He'd have been happy going through his whole life without knowing what he knew about himself now. He'd have been happy to just be with girls and enjoy what he could get, what he had been getting so easily. He didn't want to want this. He didn't want to want Georg, but he did. And now he was scared that if he told the Georg the truth, told him what was going on and how he felt about him, Georg would laugh in his face. Or worse yet, maybe it would freak him out and he'd never feel comfortable with Tom again. Could he live with that?
Tom groaned and wiped the water off his face before ringing his braids out on the floor. He'd thought of all this outside; that's how he'd ended up in this condition. But no matter what risks there were to telling Georg, Tom knew he had to do it. He had to, because now he didn't know if he could ever be happy just messing around with groupies. Not when he knew this was here, not when he knew he felt like this about his friend and hadn't the twins always taken chances, anyway? Hadn't they always thrown caution to the wind?
Damnit, Kaulitz. Just fucking knock on the door, he thought, but even the door was intimidating. Knocking on the door meant it was going to open. The door opening meant he'd go inside, and him going inside meant that he'd have to--
“Are you going to stand out there all night, or what?” Georg swung the door open and walked away from it, leaving Tom gaping after him. After a moment, he collected his wits, grabbed the fronts of his pant legs and pulled them up so he could walk. He closed the door behind him and dripped his way into the room.
The flickering television was the only light in the darkening room and Tom's eyes had to adjust to find Georg sitting on the bed, looking at him expectantly. Tom felt like he'd swallowed his tongue and his rehearsed speech with it. What the hell was he supposed to say when the man he'd had fantasies about was sitting right in front of him, on the bed, no less.
“You're dripping on the floor. Didn't you come in when the rain started?” Georg stood up and headed for the bathroom.
“I…” Tom stammered, mechanically taking the proffered robe Georg held out. “I, uh, I didn't notice.”
Georg laughed at him then and Tom twitched. “You didn't notice? Dude. It was pouring outside!” He grabbed his water off the side table, took a long swig and put it down again before sitting back on the bed. “Are you going to change or just create Lake Kaulitz on my carpet?”
Tom finally broke his stare from Georg and looked down. Water was soaking into the carpet all around his sneakers and his tee shirts were dripping little spots all around him. He felt as if his brain was made of wool and his tongue made of cotton because he couldn't think of what he was supposed to be saying here and he couldn't say what little he was thinking. It seemed the best bet was escape, but his feet weren't moving and he wasn't getting anywhere fast.
“Tom?” Georg sounded concerned and Tom jerked his head up.
“Yeah?”
“Go change. Bathroom.” He picked up the remote for the television and settled back against the headboard. Tom nodded absently at him before shuffling into the bathroom and closing the door.
He flicked on the light and winced when it came on full force, blinding him. Squinting, he laid the robe on the vanity and began to undress, peeling the wet denim and cotton from damp skin and dropping it in a pile in the shower. Now he was naked and cold and shivering and scared, and he wondered how his situation was any better than before. He toweled himself off and wrapped up in the thick, blue terry robe. It smelled of Georg, and Tom breathed in deeply, his belly twisting inside. He was a little warmer; not much, but at least he wasn't dripping all over the floor anymore.
Holding on to the door handle, Tom thought that it might be easier just to stay in the bathroom the rest of his life. He could get Bill to come visit him and bring him food. They could even record in there; he'd heard bathrooms had great acoustics.
“Tom!” Georg hollered from the bed. “You alright in there?”
So much for his idea of living in the bathroom.
“Yeah,” he yelled into the door, “I'll be right out.”
Opening the door and coming out of the bathroom proved easier than he'd thought it would be. The trick now was deciding what to do with himself. Before his damn epiphany, he'd have kamikaze'd Georg and then, settled next to him on the bed to eat popcorn and watch whatever soft core porn they could find that night. Tonight though, he stood at the end of the bed and looked at his friend, hesitantly.
“Get up here, asshole.” Georg patted the spot next to him on the mattress. “We should find something to watch, but I think we have to talk first, don't you?”
Tom startled and his stomach jumped up to his throat and pulsed there. “Do we?”
Georg stared at him for a long moment. “Didn't you come to apologize?”
Tom's stomach slowly descended back to its regular spot in his belly and he stammered, “Uh, yeah.”
“Well, get up here, say you're sorry, and tell me what the hell is going on with you so we can watch this movie already.” Georg gestured toward the spot he'd patted before and Tom made his way shakily around the bed, scooting carefully to sit by his friend, trying to hold his robe together.
Georg glanced at him. “Jesus, you're shivering hard enough to shake the bed. Why don't you get under the covers?” He put the remote down and tried to pull the blanket out from under Tom.
“No, I'm good.” Tom shook his head. “I'm fine.” Sitting on the bed with Georg, with his scent all around him and the man right next to him, Tom realized there was a growing problem between the two of them. He tried to casually grab a pillow from behind him and jam it over his lap to hide his hardening erection, only to find out that the pillow had held him up more than he realized and he fell back, smacking his head against the headboard. “Fuck!”
As Tom rubbed his head, Georg got a pillow from the closet by the bathroom. Handing it to Tom, he sat back down, half turned to face his friend. “So?”
“So?” Tom stared at the pillow on his lap, still rubbing his head slowly. He knew this was it and he felt like throwing up.
“This is stupid. I'm your friend. Why have you been avoiding me?” Georg leaned down, trying to catch his eye until Tom finally looked up at him. “I don't even care about an apology, you know? Just tell me.”
Tom took a deep breath; he wanted to run and he wanted to throw up and he wanted to kiss Georg so badly that it hurt. What he didn't want to do was tell him, but he knew he had to. He had to, and let the pieces fall where they may.
He let the breath out in a long sigh and trained his eyes on his pillow again. “What if…” Tom groaned nervously. “I, um…” He looked at Georg from under thick lashes. “I think I like guys.”
Georg stared at him. Georg stared at him so long, Tom started to freak out. He should never have talked to him about this and now he had to get the fuck out of there. He started to scoot to the edge of the bed but Georg's hand gripping his upper arm stopped him.
“What do you mean, you like guys?” Georg pulled him back and Tom settled back in his spot. His hands were shaking and he wanted to laugh. This was so not the Tom Kaulitz the fangirls thought they knew. Hell, this was not the Tom Kaulitz that Tom Kaulitz thought he knew. “I've seen you with tons of girls, now you like guys?”
“Yeah…I mean, I think so.” Tom's neck was heating up and the warmth spread to his face. God, he so did not want to do this.
“You think so.”
Tom looked and scowled defensively. “Yeah, I think so. And it's your fault. You left those fucking magazines in your room and I picked your shit up for you and the magazines had guys in them--“
“Uh-uh, I didn't leave any porno mags down,” Georg protested, shaking his head.
“No, not porno magazines, you idiot; OUT magazines. There were guys kissing in there and I saw them and then my dick--“ He gestured to his cock, hidden under Georg's fluffy pillow.
Georg's eyes widened. “You…” He looked at the pillow in Tom's lap. “Your dick… you mean, you saw pictures of guys kissing and your dick got hard?”
Tom moaned with embarrassment.
“That could happen to anyone, even straight guys, Tom. How do you think you're gay, then?”
“Not gay; bisexual. Definitely not gay,” Tom protested.
“Okay, bi, whatever. I don't care what you are, but why would you think that?” Georg put his hand on Tom's arm, and although he knew Georg did it just for reassurance, he could swear that he felt Georg's heat through the robe and it tingled up his arm. He looked down at it, his eyes tracing the powerful fingers that played so well, and he pictured them on his skin; on his chest, on his--
“I thought about someone. A guy. I thought about a guy when I was…jerking off.” He squinted his eyes closed, not wanting to look at Georg.
“Tom.” He waited for Georg to continue, but he didn't. “Tom, look at me.”
He looked at Georg's face. In Georg's eyes he only saw friendship and caring, and he started to breathe again. “Why would I care if you were bisexual or if you thought about some guy while you jerked off? Or if you thought about ten guys when you jerked off?”
He knew it was coming before it even left his mouth but he still couldn't stop it. It rolled off his tongue, through his lips and out in the open air.
“You were the guy.”
Georg cocked his head and narrowed his eyes and Tom winced. “Say that again.”
“Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have said anything. I knew it. Fuck. FUCK.” Tom scrambled off the bed. “I knew I'd fuck things up. I'm so stupid,” he ranted as he made for the bathroom to collect his clothes. Now he really was getting out of there. He grabbed the pile of wet clothes in his arms but when he turned to leave, Georg blocked the bathroom door.
“Say that again.” Georg watched him and Tom sighed and raised his chin defiantly.
“It was you, okay? Fine, it was you.” Tom pushed forward, trying to get out, but Georg stood firm. “Let me out.”
“No.” Georg looked up at him curiously. “What did we do? In your fantasy, what did we do?”
“Damnit!” He groaned and leaned his head sideways against the door jam. “Everything. We did everything. Okay? Are you happy? Can I go?” A sickness in his stomach was rising and he was desperate to leave. He wanted to go back to his room, put on the Playboy channel and forget this whole fucking thing had every happened.
“No.” Georg whispered. “Not until I do this.”
Tom opened his eyes just as Georg's hand wrapped around the back of his neck, and opened them wider when Georg carefully pulled his head down, brushing his lips gently over Tom's. He sucked a breath in hard and his heart tried to beat its way right out of his chest, but he opened his lips slightly and Georg wasted no time in dipping his tongue inside.
Tom dropped the clothes and they landed on their feet but he wasn't picking them up now for anything. His hands were clutching at the door jam, needing something to hold on to when Georg solved the problem for him; he grasped them and held them down by his hips, his thumbs caressing the backs of Tom's hands as his tongue swept lightly, teasingly, over Tom's.
They were both breathing hard when they stopped, pulling back just far enough for Tom to look in Georg's sage green eyes, now hooded with want.
“It was just a kiss.” Georg's eyes kept flicking to his lips and Tom watched them.
“Just a kiss.” Tom echoed, his fingers entwining with Georg's.
Georg tugged on his hands until Tom leaned down, their lips meeting hotly, tongues just dipping in for more, only for a moment. Georg dropped his hands and grabbed Tom's hips, pulling him closer and Tom went, burying his fingers in Georg's long hair. He tilted his head, giving Georg access to his neck, and breathing out a moan when Georg nibbled on tender skin there.
“Damn.” Tom croaked.
“Good?” Georg's lips brushed the shell of his ear and the ache in Tom's groin grew hotter.
“Uh huh.” Tom's world had become about feeling; feeling Georg's hands on his hips, his lips on his neck, his teeth on his skin and words just weren't coming out right. He didn't mind.
“You, um…” Georg moved them a step toward the bed. “You want more?”
Tom stilled. Georg looked so confident and Tom was so unsure. Did he want more? His dick was throbbing, aching for release and if he was home, he'd be making for his room as quick as his baggy pants would let him, eager to whip it out and jerk off, fast and hard. Of course he wanted more. But how much more?
“Uh, like what?” Tom's indecisiveness must have shown on his face because Georg grabbing his hand again, squeezing it lightly.
“Whatever you want.” Georg pulled him another step toward the bed. “Maybe I can just touch you?” He grinned at Tom then, that lady-killer grin that left fangirls weak in the knees and Tom found it worked very well on guitarists, too.
“Just touch.” Tom agreed, taking a step on his own, pushing Georg against the bed until he kneeled up on it.
“Just touch.” Georg paused, dragging his shirt over his head and tossing it in the potted plant in the corner. “For now.”
Tom didn't question it when Georg took his shirt off, and he didn't object when he took the lapels of Tom's robe in his hands, pulling them apart until the belt loosened and the robe fell open. He certainly didn't resist when Georg laid him on his back, and warm, experienced fingers started touching him. They swept down his neck and over his chest and Georg looked into his eyes as he told Tom how beautiful he was. Much more beautiful than he'd imagined.
Tom groaned when Georg hovered over him and those fingers brushed his cock, hard and bouncing with each pulse of blood that poured into it. He looked down to see Georg's rough palm slide gently over his balls, his long, soft hair trailing after it, tickling him and making him ache harder than he ever knew he could.
“God, Georg…” he groaned. “Do something.”
Georg caught his eyes and held them on the next sweep of his hair over Tom's thighs. His face hovered over Tom's cock, his hot breath blowing right on the sensitive head before he opened his mouth and leisurely ran a hot, flat tongue from the base to the head, slurping at the tip like a lollipop. Tom threw his head back and it seemed that every muscle clenched as Georg sucked him down. He sucked him down hard and swirled his tongue around the head as he wrapped his fingers around the base of Tom's dick and jerked him off slowly, and Tom nearly forgot how to breathe.
It wasn't long at all before Tom's toes were curling and the heat was concentrating and tingling in his groin, and if he'd had the capacity to think about it, he might have been embarrassed by how very little time he lasted. As it was, Tom didn't have the capacity to think; only to feel Georg's wet, sucking mouth and strong, stroking fingers and he muttered a vague, “Nghh,” before the heat inside him exploded. Georg held on through the bucking of Tom's hips, sucking and swallowing, and Tom fell back to the bed, panting hard.
Georg milked him tenderly before crawling up to lie beside him, resting up on his elbow with his head in his hand. Tom gazed up at him and by Georg's chuckle, he assumed he looked well spent.
“So, did that fantasy of yours go anything like that?” Georg's eyes flashed as he leaned forward to catch Tom's lips in a quick kiss.
Tom could feel himself blush. “One of them.”
Georg's grin widened and he kissed Tom again, teasing his tongue over his bottom lip. “One of them? How long's this been going on, Kaulitz?”
“Long enough, Listing.” He grabbed the back of Georg's head and kissed him hard.
Georg broke the kiss and looked down on Tom for a long moment. “So is this going to be weird tomorrow?”
Tom snorted. “It's kinda weird now. Does it bother you?”
“Not gonna bother me if it doesn't bother you.” Georg looked at their hands, clasped on Tom's abs. “Does this mean we're dating or something?”
Tom tensed, his eyes wide. “Um. You want to?” He didn't know if he wanted to or not; hell, he never thought his fantasy would come true, let alone imagine what might happen afterward.
“Dunno. Maybe.” Georg shrugged and Tom felt the tension start to flow out of him again with those two simple words. “Maybe we should just see where this takes us.”
Tom nodded. “Yeah.” He grinned and pulled Georg down for another kiss. He could live with that.
Author:
steinsgrrlFandom: Tokio Hotel
Pairing(s): Tom/Georg
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
Summary: Tom makes an unexpected discovery while cleaning up Georg's room, one that results in a revelation he could have lived without. Or so he thought.
FQF Prompt: Georg/Tom - Tom accidentally stumbles onto some relatively tame pictures of guys making out and it turns him on. He's confused and somewhat dismayed, so he goes to talk to Georg, because he knows Georg is bisexual. (submitted by lirren)
Author's notes: Thank you so much to my beta,
ma_chelle!“Why the hell can't he pick up his own shit?” Tom snatched the wadded up tee shirt off the floor and added it to the pile of clothes and cds he already had tucked under his arm. “I live with pigs,” he muttered.
Looking around the room, he decided that was good enough; he'd picked up the big items and Georg and Bill could manage the rest of it when they got home from shopping. He groaned a little, thinking about the mess they would make with their bags and purchases spread out all over the living room. It would look like a damn dressing room exploded everywhere and he'd be damned if he would clean that mess up.
Georg's room was nearly as bad as the living room had been and Tom wondered how the guy could find anything. The bed wasn't made, clothes littered the floor and a stack of magazines was haphazardly piled on the floor, most of them lying open. Tom's need for cleanliness didn't come close to Gustav's level of obsessiveness, but he still liked things to be orderly. This room was anything but.
He dropped the clothes from the living room into the dirty clothes hamper and stacked the cds with the ones that were already littering the top of Georg's dresser. Grabbing the sneakers from the floor and lining them up in the closet only took a moment, but once he'd done that, he was only left with the magazines to clean up.
Tom tried not to look at the magazines, still scarred from the time he'd been tidying up magazines and had happened upon a printed 'zine with a large picture of Pete Wentz and his infamous peen. But when two of the magazines stuck together (Tom didn't even want to know why) and he couldn't close them properly, he had to look in order to get them unstuck.
He looked at the cover of the first one; it was just a men's fashion magazine. Tom snorted and wondered what the hell Georg was doing with this when he obviously didn't learn anything from it. He stacked it with the others and looked at the next magazine. And then he stopped short, staring.
OUT. The cover said OUT, and Tom wondered how the hell Georg had gotten his hands on this one without fangirls everywhere finding out about it and slitting their wrists all over the internet. The band and the crew had known for some time that Georg was bisexual, but the fans didn't know. If he got caught with a magazine like this, they'd say he was gay and all the girls he'd been to bed with were just a cover.
And they were, of sorts. The more girls Georg fooled around with, the less anyone paid attention to him chatting up some gorgeous young man in the club. Tom thought that was a fine way to hide in plain sight.
He flipped through the magazine, wondering how bad the magazine could possibly be. Besides the name, it really could be about how to pick a couch that goes with your wallpaper and the best gay-themed restaurants. Tom wasn't terribly surprised by the articles he found inside. They really did cover the best gay cruises and the status of gay marriage in different states. No, that part didn't surprise Tom at all.
What got his attention were the advertisements. More gay cruises (Damn, don't they ever just go skiing or something?), something about a 'white party', whatever the hell that was, and lots and lots of ads for condoms and lubricants. And the guys in those ads--
Tom closed the magazine quickly, his breath catching at the way his groin responded to the pictures. They were…
He cautiously opened the magazine again, just barely peeling the glossy sheets back, one by one, as if the images inside would jump out and grab him by the wrist.
It wasn't as if he hadn't seen half naked guys before. Hell, he lived with the guys in the band for months at a time while they traveled on tour. Sleeping in buses, getting quick showers when they could, running in and out of each other's hotel rooms; he'd seen them all naked more than he cared to think about. But this…this was different.
These guys were half naked and were kissing. Just kissing, that was all, but according to the tense, swirling feeling in his belly and the response from his dick, the kissing was enough. Too much.
His fingers stopped turning pages somewhere in the middle of the magazine. The article was about gay bars or some damn thing; he didn't even know, his eyes were stuck on the half page picture accompanying the article. A man with long, dark hair had a shorter haired man pinned against a wall, their arms wrapped loosely around each other's waists, their lips connected so hotly that a flash of wet tongue was visible between their gleaming lips.
“Ngh.” The strangled noise left Tom's throat before he could stop it and, startled, he slammed the magazine closed, tossed it away from him and stood up, nearly tripping over his pants as he scrambled from the room. He made for his own room as quickly as his baggy jeans and his stiff cock inside of them would let him, slamming the door and leaning hard against it. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and he rubbed a damp palm over his erection, grimacing at how good it felt. He didn't want it to feel good!
The picture seemed to be burnt into his brain because, when he squeezed his eyes closed, he could still see those men, those lips, that pink flash of tongue and it suddenly seemed very hot in the room. Tom groaned and a bead of sweat rolled down the small of his back. He ripped his tee shirt over his head and tossed it on the bed on his way to the shower.
As cool water beat down on his feverish skin, Tom bent his head under the spray, sighing in relief as his erection finally softened. He caught the water in his mouth and spit it in a stream at the cold, black tiles, wondering what the hell had just happened.
***
Tom did everything he could to avoid being alone with Georg the next day, and the day after that. Despite the odd looks Georg was giving him, despite the fact that they had been friends for so many years and Tom had always been able to tell him anything, he just couldn't bring himself to be in the same room with him without someone else there.
His reaction to the magazines had shaken him so badly that he'd locked himself in his room with his ipod and a dazzling view of the ceiling from his bed. Occasionally, he'd drag himself stiffly over to the window to smoke, but for the most part, he sat and he paced and he mumbled and thought about those pictures. The pictures that were linked in his mind to Georg. Georg's room, Georg's pictures, Georg's fault.
He wanted to talk to Bill about this, he really did. However, while everyone took Bill for gay, the truth was that Bill was a bigger poon hound than all of them combined. He just had security that was better than the damn secret service at getting girls to his room and getting them out of there again when their little interlude was over. So while Tom might really want to, this was the one thing he couldn't talk to Bill about. Besides, he'd left the day before to do voice-overs for a new animated movie. Even if he felt like he could broach the subject with his brother, he certainly wasn't bringing it up over the phone.
So he stewed on his own, playing mechanically during practices, missing chord changes during recording, playing the same parts over and over until the producers sighed and told him to go take a break.
Tom set his guitar on its stand and shoved the pick in his pocket on his way out of the studio. He went out the back door, thankful that there was no way for those crazy stalker chicks to get back there, and dropped himself into one of the chairs near the patio table. Digging his cigarettes out of his pocket, he lit one quickly and inhaled the stinging smoke hard into his lungs.
He had to get a grip on himself. Okay, so what if the sight of guys kissing had turned him on? So what? What did that even mean? Was he gay now? And how could he possibly be gay when he'd been all up in Nicole Scherzinger's hot body at the EMAs? So no, he couldn't be gay. Tom scoffed aloud and laid his head back, breathing deeply and watching the clouds. No, he couldn't be gay.
But a tiny voice in the back of his head said that he wouldn't have been hard if he didn't like it.
“Ugh!” Tom grunted and scuffed his feet in frustration against the concrete.
He'd always known exactly who he was. Tom loved women. He loved everything about them. He loved their smell and their softness and their curves. He loved their heat and their sass. Men were so different. They were on the other end of the spectrum for him. They were hard and musky and strong, and when Tom would lie back in his bed, his eyes screwed up in pleasure while his hand stroked his cock to completion, it wasn't hardness and musk and strength that sent him over the edge.
But now that he thought about it, hardness and musk and strength had never entered his mind when he'd masturbated. Tom groaned under his breath, knowing where this was going and what he was going to do, but not liking the idea a bit.
What if he let himself think of a man while he masturbated? What if he allowed himself to think of being with a man when he masturbated? And if nothing happened, if his dick stayed limp no matter how much he tugged, if he found that there was no way he was able to come thinking of a man, then he would know, right? He would know that this was all just a mistake and he could laugh it off with no harm done. Right?
Tom shook his head, stubbed out his spent cigarette and sighed as he planted his palms on the arms of the chair and pushed himself up. He was going to go take care of this shit right now.
It didn't take long to get back to the studio, beg off for the afternoon and get to his room. Once there, he locked the door and stood with his forehead against the wood, holding on to the handle for a long moment, breathing harder than he should. He couldn't believe he was feeling nervous about masturbating. He hadn't felt weird about jerking off since he was fourteen and so damn horny that he had to pull himself off in the bathroom of his grandmother's house. Now that had been weird. He didn't even want to think about how his dick twitched slightly now when he smelled medicated ointment. This was nothing like that, so everything should be fine, right? He'd just have a nice, calm, stress-reducing wank and all would be good.
He nodded confidently and stretched out on the bed, propping himself up with the pillows and getting comfortable. Letting out a long, shaky sigh, he ran a palm from his chest, down his belly and across his groin. His cock didn't stir but he could feel warmth flowing to the area and he opened the snap of his jean and unzipped them, pulling the two sides apart and pushing the fabric hastily down his thighs.
Reaching into the headboard, he found the bottle of lube he had stashed there. He opened it and watched as a thin line of lube fell from the bottle to dribble on his dick. Clicking the cap closed, he tossed the bottle away from him and spread the lube lightly over his cock with one finger, sucking in a breath as he smeared it over the head.
Okay, now for the men, he thought, lying back and wrapping his hand fully around his awakening cock. But who? He stopped stroking and contemplated. He thought of the guys in the magazine and his dick twitched in his hand, growing longer and thicker. Tom hummed to himself and started a slow stroking again, starting at the base and slicking his hand up to the top, rolling his knuckles over the swelling head.
He pictured them, the one with long hair pressing the other into the wall, ravaging him with his mouth and Tom groaned under his breath. What would it feel like to be overpowered like that? To be dominated and to lose control like that? Certainly no girl had ever done that to him.
The men in the picture came to life in his head, moving against each other and kissing harder, the man with long hair grabbing the other man's wrists and holding them over his head with one hand. The other hand moved down the guy's side until he had a handful of ass and Tom grunted, his hand moving faster on his cock.
He closed his eyes tighter, capturing the vision and making it blur and move until the long-haired man turned his head as the other one licked long, wet stripes up his neck and Tom's panting breath caught in his throat--it was Georg. It was Georg pushing that guy into the wall and Tom wondered what it would be like to be that man and then he was that man and Georg was pressing against him, his lips latched at Tom's neck, his teeth scraping heated flesh, and Tom lost it.
His legs muscles tensed, his stomach was tight and hard and his cock swelled in his hand as he arched up hard and spilled in long, viscous shots across his new Miskeen shirt.
“Fuck,” he panted, his body relaxing down into the soft bed covers. That answered that question.
***
Georg had just barely come through the door of the studio when Tom looked up from the mixing board and felt his face heat up. Glancing down at the technician who was trying to show him how the autotune effect was done, his thoughts just scattered and he knew he wouldn't be able to get them back with Georg there. He had to leave; he couldn't just be there and look at Georg and remember the vision of him kissing Tom; he couldn't see his lips, and think of feeling them on his neck. He couldn't.
Tom muttered an excuse, just loud enough for the tech to hear, and he pushed his way out of the room, scuffling as quickly as he could down the hall and out the back door, his heart hammering in his chest and his breath coming hard. Jesus, how was he going to play with this guy around him? How could he look at him and remember what he'd thought about him? How could he look at him and want him and still pretend like everything was just fucking fine?
He threw himself into a deck chair, blessing the fact he had a whole pack of cigarettes in his pocket and didn't have to worry about messing the vocals up because he planned on smoking a whole lot of these babies.
Two more days of Tom not only avoiding him but turning a lovely shade of red and dashing out at the nearest opportunity every time he entered the room was apparently enough for Georg. Halfway through his second cigarette, Tom heard the door open behind him and he tensed. It felt like all his senses were tuned to the person that came out that door, and he knew it could only be Georg. He held his breath, heavy with cigarette smoke.
“Tom.” Georg sat casually in the seat across the table from him, both of them looking out toward the greenhouse behind the studio. “What's going on with you?
Tom heard a lighter wheel spin and looked over to see Georg lighting his own cigarette and he blew his own lungful of smoke out just as Georg did. “Nothing,” he said, shortly, “Why?”
He didn't answer and when Tom looked over, Georg was staring at him. “You're all tense. Why are you all tense?”
“I'm not tense,” Tom protested too quickly, sucking on his cigarette again and crossing his legs.
Georg chuckled under his breath. “Liar.” He flicked his ashes in the ashtray and sat back, waiting.
Tom scowled at him and stubbed his cigarette out. “I'm not lying.”
“Liar.”
“What the fuck is your problem, Listing?” Tom's voice carried steel now and all he could think about was how he didn't want to be having this conversation. This conversation could lead to nothing good, but he didn't have a clue as to how to get out of it gracefully. Peacefully. With his dignity and their friendship intact.
“What the fuck is my problem? The fuck is your problem, Kaulitz? You've been weird and twitchy for nearly a week. You haven't said two words to me and when I try to talk to you, suddenly you have somewhere else to be.” Georg leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, staring hard at Tom. “So I'll ask you again, what's going on with you?”
Tom ducked his head, thinking frantically. Bill. He wished Bill was here and he could talk to him about all of this. No, it wouldn't be a particularly comfortable conversation, but at least he'd get this shit out of his system. Bill would convince him that he was straight as can be. The whole thing; fantasizing about guys, fantasizing about making out with Georg and fucking coming while fantasizing about making out with Georg was just a fluke. It was just a one-time thing and nothing to worry about. But it wasn't a one-time thing. It was a more than one-time thing and Bill wasn't here and Bill couldn't help him.
Wait…Bill wasn't here.
“Bill's not here.” Tom mumbled and toyed with his cigarette package.
“Yeah, so? Bill's not here. He's been gone for nearly a week. What does that have to do with you running out of the damn room when I try to talk to you?”
“Bill's not here, Georg. It's just…” Tom tossed the package onto the table and sat back with a drawn out sigh. “I miss him. Twins shouldn't be separated like this. It's hard on us.” He scratched his neck and looked away, hating that he was lying but knowing there was no way in hell he could tell Georg what he'd been thinking about him. He couldn't risk their friendship by telling him that. No, Tom would have to figure this out on his own.
He could feel Georg's eyes on him, feel the intensity of his stare and he risked a look just in time to see Georg squint at him and stand up quickly, his chair skittering backward and almost tipping over. “Fine. You don't want to tell me, then fine.”
“Georg--“ Tom started to stand but Georg waved him away.
“No, don't worry about it. You used to really talk to me, but now you don't want to. Okay, I got it.” Georg grasped the door handle and turned it, opening the door a sliver. “Later.”
As Georg disappeared inside the building, letting the door fall closed behind him, Tom collapsed back into the chair with a groan.
He'd really screwed it all up now.
All he'd wanted to do was get out of there. To not let Georg see him all flustered, to not let Georg know that he'd been fantasizing about him, like it would somehow be written on his blushing face. All he'd wanted was to not ruin their friendship, and Tom had screwed it all up.
“Damnit!” Tom yelled to no one. Standing up, he quickly lit a cigarette before starting to pace in front of the patio set. He paced and thought and smoked while storm clouds rolled in overhead, and he paced and thought and smoked while it started to rain. He even paced and thought and smoked, his cigarette hissing out when cold drops hit it, when it began to rain harder. In the end, Tom was soaked to the bone by the time he'd talked himself into the solution to his problem with Georg.
He'd talked himself into telling the truth.
***
Tom stood in the hall in front of Georg's door, wet and shivering and scared. It wasn't a position he ever thought he'd find himself in and he cursed the day he found those damn magazines.
He'd have been happy going through his whole life without knowing what he knew about himself now. He'd have been happy to just be with girls and enjoy what he could get, what he had been getting so easily. He didn't want to want this. He didn't want to want Georg, but he did. And now he was scared that if he told the Georg the truth, told him what was going on and how he felt about him, Georg would laugh in his face. Or worse yet, maybe it would freak him out and he'd never feel comfortable with Tom again. Could he live with that?
Tom groaned and wiped the water off his face before ringing his braids out on the floor. He'd thought of all this outside; that's how he'd ended up in this condition. But no matter what risks there were to telling Georg, Tom knew he had to do it. He had to, because now he didn't know if he could ever be happy just messing around with groupies. Not when he knew this was here, not when he knew he felt like this about his friend and hadn't the twins always taken chances, anyway? Hadn't they always thrown caution to the wind?
Damnit, Kaulitz. Just fucking knock on the door, he thought, but even the door was intimidating. Knocking on the door meant it was going to open. The door opening meant he'd go inside, and him going inside meant that he'd have to--
“Are you going to stand out there all night, or what?” Georg swung the door open and walked away from it, leaving Tom gaping after him. After a moment, he collected his wits, grabbed the fronts of his pant legs and pulled them up so he could walk. He closed the door behind him and dripped his way into the room.
The flickering television was the only light in the darkening room and Tom's eyes had to adjust to find Georg sitting on the bed, looking at him expectantly. Tom felt like he'd swallowed his tongue and his rehearsed speech with it. What the hell was he supposed to say when the man he'd had fantasies about was sitting right in front of him, on the bed, no less.
“You're dripping on the floor. Didn't you come in when the rain started?” Georg stood up and headed for the bathroom.
“I…” Tom stammered, mechanically taking the proffered robe Georg held out. “I, uh, I didn't notice.”
Georg laughed at him then and Tom twitched. “You didn't notice? Dude. It was pouring outside!” He grabbed his water off the side table, took a long swig and put it down again before sitting back on the bed. “Are you going to change or just create Lake Kaulitz on my carpet?”
Tom finally broke his stare from Georg and looked down. Water was soaking into the carpet all around his sneakers and his tee shirts were dripping little spots all around him. He felt as if his brain was made of wool and his tongue made of cotton because he couldn't think of what he was supposed to be saying here and he couldn't say what little he was thinking. It seemed the best bet was escape, but his feet weren't moving and he wasn't getting anywhere fast.
“Tom?” Georg sounded concerned and Tom jerked his head up.
“Yeah?”
“Go change. Bathroom.” He picked up the remote for the television and settled back against the headboard. Tom nodded absently at him before shuffling into the bathroom and closing the door.
He flicked on the light and winced when it came on full force, blinding him. Squinting, he laid the robe on the vanity and began to undress, peeling the wet denim and cotton from damp skin and dropping it in a pile in the shower. Now he was naked and cold and shivering and scared, and he wondered how his situation was any better than before. He toweled himself off and wrapped up in the thick, blue terry robe. It smelled of Georg, and Tom breathed in deeply, his belly twisting inside. He was a little warmer; not much, but at least he wasn't dripping all over the floor anymore.
Holding on to the door handle, Tom thought that it might be easier just to stay in the bathroom the rest of his life. He could get Bill to come visit him and bring him food. They could even record in there; he'd heard bathrooms had great acoustics.
“Tom!” Georg hollered from the bed. “You alright in there?”
So much for his idea of living in the bathroom.
“Yeah,” he yelled into the door, “I'll be right out.”
Opening the door and coming out of the bathroom proved easier than he'd thought it would be. The trick now was deciding what to do with himself. Before his damn epiphany, he'd have kamikaze'd Georg and then, settled next to him on the bed to eat popcorn and watch whatever soft core porn they could find that night. Tonight though, he stood at the end of the bed and looked at his friend, hesitantly.
“Get up here, asshole.” Georg patted the spot next to him on the mattress. “We should find something to watch, but I think we have to talk first, don't you?”
Tom startled and his stomach jumped up to his throat and pulsed there. “Do we?”
Georg stared at him for a long moment. “Didn't you come to apologize?”
Tom's stomach slowly descended back to its regular spot in his belly and he stammered, “Uh, yeah.”
“Well, get up here, say you're sorry, and tell me what the hell is going on with you so we can watch this movie already.” Georg gestured toward the spot he'd patted before and Tom made his way shakily around the bed, scooting carefully to sit by his friend, trying to hold his robe together.
Georg glanced at him. “Jesus, you're shivering hard enough to shake the bed. Why don't you get under the covers?” He put the remote down and tried to pull the blanket out from under Tom.
“No, I'm good.” Tom shook his head. “I'm fine.” Sitting on the bed with Georg, with his scent all around him and the man right next to him, Tom realized there was a growing problem between the two of them. He tried to casually grab a pillow from behind him and jam it over his lap to hide his hardening erection, only to find out that the pillow had held him up more than he realized and he fell back, smacking his head against the headboard. “Fuck!”
As Tom rubbed his head, Georg got a pillow from the closet by the bathroom. Handing it to Tom, he sat back down, half turned to face his friend. “So?”
“So?” Tom stared at the pillow on his lap, still rubbing his head slowly. He knew this was it and he felt like throwing up.
“This is stupid. I'm your friend. Why have you been avoiding me?” Georg leaned down, trying to catch his eye until Tom finally looked up at him. “I don't even care about an apology, you know? Just tell me.”
Tom took a deep breath; he wanted to run and he wanted to throw up and he wanted to kiss Georg so badly that it hurt. What he didn't want to do was tell him, but he knew he had to. He had to, and let the pieces fall where they may.
He let the breath out in a long sigh and trained his eyes on his pillow again. “What if…” Tom groaned nervously. “I, um…” He looked at Georg from under thick lashes. “I think I like guys.”
Georg stared at him. Georg stared at him so long, Tom started to freak out. He should never have talked to him about this and now he had to get the fuck out of there. He started to scoot to the edge of the bed but Georg's hand gripping his upper arm stopped him.
“What do you mean, you like guys?” Georg pulled him back and Tom settled back in his spot. His hands were shaking and he wanted to laugh. This was so not the Tom Kaulitz the fangirls thought they knew. Hell, this was not the Tom Kaulitz that Tom Kaulitz thought he knew. “I've seen you with tons of girls, now you like guys?”
“Yeah…I mean, I think so.” Tom's neck was heating up and the warmth spread to his face. God, he so did not want to do this.
“You think so.”
Tom looked and scowled defensively. “Yeah, I think so. And it's your fault. You left those fucking magazines in your room and I picked your shit up for you and the magazines had guys in them--“
“Uh-uh, I didn't leave any porno mags down,” Georg protested, shaking his head.
“No, not porno magazines, you idiot; OUT magazines. There were guys kissing in there and I saw them and then my dick--“ He gestured to his cock, hidden under Georg's fluffy pillow.
Georg's eyes widened. “You…” He looked at the pillow in Tom's lap. “Your dick… you mean, you saw pictures of guys kissing and your dick got hard?”
Tom moaned with embarrassment.
“That could happen to anyone, even straight guys, Tom. How do you think you're gay, then?”
“Not gay; bisexual. Definitely not gay,” Tom protested.
“Okay, bi, whatever. I don't care what you are, but why would you think that?” Georg put his hand on Tom's arm, and although he knew Georg did it just for reassurance, he could swear that he felt Georg's heat through the robe and it tingled up his arm. He looked down at it, his eyes tracing the powerful fingers that played so well, and he pictured them on his skin; on his chest, on his--
“I thought about someone. A guy. I thought about a guy when I was…jerking off.” He squinted his eyes closed, not wanting to look at Georg.
“Tom.” He waited for Georg to continue, but he didn't. “Tom, look at me.”
He looked at Georg's face. In Georg's eyes he only saw friendship and caring, and he started to breathe again. “Why would I care if you were bisexual or if you thought about some guy while you jerked off? Or if you thought about ten guys when you jerked off?”
He knew it was coming before it even left his mouth but he still couldn't stop it. It rolled off his tongue, through his lips and out in the open air.
“You were the guy.”
Georg cocked his head and narrowed his eyes and Tom winced. “Say that again.”
“Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have said anything. I knew it. Fuck. FUCK.” Tom scrambled off the bed. “I knew I'd fuck things up. I'm so stupid,” he ranted as he made for the bathroom to collect his clothes. Now he really was getting out of there. He grabbed the pile of wet clothes in his arms but when he turned to leave, Georg blocked the bathroom door.
“Say that again.” Georg watched him and Tom sighed and raised his chin defiantly.
“It was you, okay? Fine, it was you.” Tom pushed forward, trying to get out, but Georg stood firm. “Let me out.”
“No.” Georg looked up at him curiously. “What did we do? In your fantasy, what did we do?”
“Damnit!” He groaned and leaned his head sideways against the door jam. “Everything. We did everything. Okay? Are you happy? Can I go?” A sickness in his stomach was rising and he was desperate to leave. He wanted to go back to his room, put on the Playboy channel and forget this whole fucking thing had every happened.
“No.” Georg whispered. “Not until I do this.”
Tom opened his eyes just as Georg's hand wrapped around the back of his neck, and opened them wider when Georg carefully pulled his head down, brushing his lips gently over Tom's. He sucked a breath in hard and his heart tried to beat its way right out of his chest, but he opened his lips slightly and Georg wasted no time in dipping his tongue inside.
Tom dropped the clothes and they landed on their feet but he wasn't picking them up now for anything. His hands were clutching at the door jam, needing something to hold on to when Georg solved the problem for him; he grasped them and held them down by his hips, his thumbs caressing the backs of Tom's hands as his tongue swept lightly, teasingly, over Tom's.
They were both breathing hard when they stopped, pulling back just far enough for Tom to look in Georg's sage green eyes, now hooded with want.
“It was just a kiss.” Georg's eyes kept flicking to his lips and Tom watched them.
“Just a kiss.” Tom echoed, his fingers entwining with Georg's.
Georg tugged on his hands until Tom leaned down, their lips meeting hotly, tongues just dipping in for more, only for a moment. Georg dropped his hands and grabbed Tom's hips, pulling him closer and Tom went, burying his fingers in Georg's long hair. He tilted his head, giving Georg access to his neck, and breathing out a moan when Georg nibbled on tender skin there.
“Damn.” Tom croaked.
“Good?” Georg's lips brushed the shell of his ear and the ache in Tom's groin grew hotter.
“Uh huh.” Tom's world had become about feeling; feeling Georg's hands on his hips, his lips on his neck, his teeth on his skin and words just weren't coming out right. He didn't mind.
“You, um…” Georg moved them a step toward the bed. “You want more?”
Tom stilled. Georg looked so confident and Tom was so unsure. Did he want more? His dick was throbbing, aching for release and if he was home, he'd be making for his room as quick as his baggy pants would let him, eager to whip it out and jerk off, fast and hard. Of course he wanted more. But how much more?
“Uh, like what?” Tom's indecisiveness must have shown on his face because Georg grabbing his hand again, squeezing it lightly.
“Whatever you want.” Georg pulled him another step toward the bed. “Maybe I can just touch you?” He grinned at Tom then, that lady-killer grin that left fangirls weak in the knees and Tom found it worked very well on guitarists, too.
“Just touch.” Tom agreed, taking a step on his own, pushing Georg against the bed until he kneeled up on it.
“Just touch.” Georg paused, dragging his shirt over his head and tossing it in the potted plant in the corner. “For now.”
Tom didn't question it when Georg took his shirt off, and he didn't object when he took the lapels of Tom's robe in his hands, pulling them apart until the belt loosened and the robe fell open. He certainly didn't resist when Georg laid him on his back, and warm, experienced fingers started touching him. They swept down his neck and over his chest and Georg looked into his eyes as he told Tom how beautiful he was. Much more beautiful than he'd imagined.
Tom groaned when Georg hovered over him and those fingers brushed his cock, hard and bouncing with each pulse of blood that poured into it. He looked down to see Georg's rough palm slide gently over his balls, his long, soft hair trailing after it, tickling him and making him ache harder than he ever knew he could.
“God, Georg…” he groaned. “Do something.”
Georg caught his eyes and held them on the next sweep of his hair over Tom's thighs. His face hovered over Tom's cock, his hot breath blowing right on the sensitive head before he opened his mouth and leisurely ran a hot, flat tongue from the base to the head, slurping at the tip like a lollipop. Tom threw his head back and it seemed that every muscle clenched as Georg sucked him down. He sucked him down hard and swirled his tongue around the head as he wrapped his fingers around the base of Tom's dick and jerked him off slowly, and Tom nearly forgot how to breathe.
It wasn't long at all before Tom's toes were curling and the heat was concentrating and tingling in his groin, and if he'd had the capacity to think about it, he might have been embarrassed by how very little time he lasted. As it was, Tom didn't have the capacity to think; only to feel Georg's wet, sucking mouth and strong, stroking fingers and he muttered a vague, “Nghh,” before the heat inside him exploded. Georg held on through the bucking of Tom's hips, sucking and swallowing, and Tom fell back to the bed, panting hard.
Georg milked him tenderly before crawling up to lie beside him, resting up on his elbow with his head in his hand. Tom gazed up at him and by Georg's chuckle, he assumed he looked well spent.
“So, did that fantasy of yours go anything like that?” Georg's eyes flashed as he leaned forward to catch Tom's lips in a quick kiss.
Tom could feel himself blush. “One of them.”
Georg's grin widened and he kissed Tom again, teasing his tongue over his bottom lip. “One of them? How long's this been going on, Kaulitz?”
“Long enough, Listing.” He grabbed the back of Georg's head and kissed him hard.
Georg broke the kiss and looked down on Tom for a long moment. “So is this going to be weird tomorrow?”
Tom snorted. “It's kinda weird now. Does it bother you?”
“Not gonna bother me if it doesn't bother you.” Georg looked at their hands, clasped on Tom's abs. “Does this mean we're dating or something?”
Tom tensed, his eyes wide. “Um. You want to?” He didn't know if he wanted to or not; hell, he never thought his fantasy would come true, let alone imagine what might happen afterward.
“Dunno. Maybe.” Georg shrugged and Tom felt the tension start to flow out of him again with those two simple words. “Maybe we should just see where this takes us.”
Tom nodded. “Yeah.” He grinned and pulled Georg down for another kiss. He could live with that.
