Much More, NC17, Tom/Georg

[steins_stories]

Title: Much More
Author: steinsgrrl
Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Pairing: 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
Warnings: Adult Content
Summary: When Georg's girlfriend breaks up with him mid-tour, Tom is there to pick up the pieces.
FQF Prompt: In the middle of the big tour, Georg gets an email that his girlfriend wants to take a break. Naturally he's heartbroken, and the twins show their bassist that no matter what happens, friends are always there for you. (would love to see this as an adult/ NC-17 fic with some drunken, sorry for himself Georg and brash Tom and comforting Bill) - submitted by red_bansidhe
Author's notes: This strayed a bit from the prompt because Tom and Georg are extremely willful and stubborn men.


“Does this shirt make me look like I have boobs?” Bill stood sideways in front of the hotel room mirror, looking intently into it with his hands on his hips.

Tom snorted from the bed as he typed his password into his laptop. Waiting for it to load, he checked out his brother over the top of the screen.

“No more than any other shirt you wear,” he replied, with a smirk, and clicked open his email program, missing the dirty look Bill shot him.

“Well,” Bill huffed, checking his profile in the mirror again. “I’ll ask Nathalie. She won’t be a bitch about it.” He threw a look over his shoulder, just to see if his words hit home, but Tom wasn’t listening. He tapped away at his keyboard, focused on the laptop screen. “What are you doing?”

It was a moment or two before Tom answered. “Andi sent me something to put up on the blog. Did you know Porsche has a new model out?” His tongue worked his lip ring and Bill rolled his eyes at the sheer lust in Tom's as he ogled the car on the screen.

“Now why would I—“ Bill began, stopping when their hotel room door opened quietly and Georg shuffled in, his head tipped down and his hair hanging in front of his face as he turned to close it behind him with a faint click. “Well, hello, Moritz. Just come on in. It’s okay; don’t knock or anything.”

Georg ignored Bill’s sarcasm and made his way to the easy chair next to the bed, not looking at either Kaulitz as he did. He rubbed at his eyes, and Bill gave Tom a look. Tom shrugged.

“Georg, what’s going on?” Bill asked quietly, concern in his words. He sat on the bed in front of Georg, elbows planted on his knees. Tom closed his laptop and set it to the side, scooting down to the end of the bed, resting thigh to thigh with his brother.

Georg swiped a palm down his face and he watched it fall to his lap before shifting his eyes to the side, to the ceiling, to anywhere but the twins.

“Georg,” Bill prompted.

Tom waited impatiently, transfixed by the pain radiating from the man in front of him. Georg was pale, his breath shallow and careful, as if he would actually explode if he took a real breath. Tom's stomach dropped, seeing his best friend like this, seeing his—

“It’s Anja,” Georg whispered, his voice raw and gritty. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears when they met Tom's and Tom swallowed hard and blinked quickly.

“What about Anja?” Bill asked, grabbing at Georg's fidgeting hands and holding them tightly.

Georg's tears overflowed, dripping in a long, slow line down one cheek, then the other. “She broke up with me,” he croaked before clearing his throat. “I got an email, and she said she can’t…” He looked away again, as if it was just too much to take, saying this out loud. Bill’s soft fingers stroked over his palms and Georg finally took a deep breath, blowing it out hard. “She can’t be with a man who’s never home.”

“Shit,” Bill whispered. “But she knew, Georg. She knew what you did and that you’d be gone for months at a time. Didn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Georg sat up and mirrored Bill, elbows on knees, head hanging low. “Yeah, she knew. We talked about it. I guess she didn’t think it was…” He paused, shaking his head. “real, or something. I don’t know, but…fuck.”

Bill cooed his comfort in soft words and tender touches, wiping away Georg's tears while Tom's world reeled.

Anja had broken up with Georg.

Anja had broken up with Georg and Tom seethed, hating her for it. She knew how much Georg loved her. Hell, he took a huge chance with her and she threw it in his face. She hurt him and hurt him bad.

Which made him feel even worse for that tiny part of him that rejoiced at the news of their break up. His stomach roiled and he wrapped his arms around himself. He felt like an asshole.

“…play video games and order supper in. Better yet, to hell with the minibar; we’ll get a big ass bottle of vodka, some Red Bull, some beer. We’ll buy out half the bar, since we don’t have a performance tomorrow. We can stay in and get shitfaced.” Bill squeezed Georg's hands and shook them with emphasis at his words.

Georg shook his head again. “I don’t know, Bill—“

“C’mon, it’ll be good. You need the distraction and we all need the break. Just to relax. Look,” he continued, cajoling now, “You don’t have to get drunk. Really. Just let us help you; let us be here for you.”

Tom nodded, unnecessarily. Of course he would go along with whatever Bill wanted to do. It was a given. But the gesture seemed to help sway Georg, because as soon as Tom nodded, Georg followed with his own, curt tip of his head.

“Fine.” He pushed his hair from his face with shaking fingers and stood slowly. “Fine. I’m gonna be back in a couple hours, though. I, um.” Georg looked toward the door then back at the twins. “I have some things to take care of.”

“Later,” Bill agreed. “Definitely. And Georg?” Bill stopped him with a hand on Georg's shoulder as he headed for the door. “I was just being a shit. You really don’t have to knock, okay? Just come in,” Bill said, with a tentative smile.

Georg nodded again and his eyes met Tom's for a long moment before he turned and left.

Tom stared at the spot where Georg had stood and Bill turned toward him slowly.

“What,” he started, “was that?”

Tom looked up to find Bill’s arms crossed over his chest, curiosity in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tom sat back, pulling his laptop to him and opening it.

“You’re a liar, Tom Kaulitz. You know what I’m talking about.” Bill plopped on the bed and shoved at Tom's foot. “That look he gave you.”

Tom refused to meet his brother’s eyes. He knew damn well if he did, he’d end up telling Bill the truth. Telling Bill everything. And this was one thing he didn’t want to talk to his brother about. Not yet, anyway.

“Nope.” He could feel Bill staring at him, and he knew Bill always got his way. Eventually, Bill got what he wanted, but Tom needed to hold this secret close to him for a little longer.

Bill sighed loudly. “Fine!” He tipped the top of Tom's screen down and Tom looked up at him from beneath long lashes. “You may not tell me now, but you’ll tell me.”

Tom raised a brow, then his screen, and Bill rolled his eyes before taking up his abandoned spot in front of the mirror.

“Yeah, it does look like boobs, huh?” He murmured, running manicured fingertips down his chest.

***


Bill had ordered so much booze that room service had to bring it all up on a cart. With his mouth hanging open, Tom watched the waiter wheel it in.

“Are you serious? Did you buy out the whole bar or what? How much of that do you think we can drink, anyway?”

Bill picked out a crystal clear bottle of vodka and turned it over in his hands, shrugging at Tom's question. “I wanted variety.”

“Oh, you got variety,” Tom said, spying the charge slip in amongst the numerous bottles. He scanned it and looked at Bill with wide eyes. “Ben’s going to shit pickles when he sees this.”

Bill snorted a laugh and snagged the paper from Tom's fingers, turning it over for a look. “Shit,” he whispered, breathily. “Yeah, that’s a little more than I expected.”

“Uh, yeah—“

The door opened and Georg peeked his head around it before coming in. “Hi.”

Georg had cleaned up since he’d left. He’d obviously taken a shower, as his hair was still a little damp and wavy, and he’d slipped into a pair of thick, black sweat pants and a fitted, white tee shirt. It did nothing to disguise the built, toned body Georg had been working so hard to achieve, and Tom swallowed hard as he stared.

Bill coughed and Tom startled, flicking his eyes guiltily to his brother, who nodded slowly. “Aha,” He said, drawing the word out with a grin. “Now I get it.”

Tom shook his head. “Nothing to get, Bill.”

“Oh, but there is—“

Tom ignored him and turned to Georg. “Do you see all this shit Bill ordered?”

Georg took them both in, his brows drawn together in confusion, before he shook his head in resignation. They’d all been together long enough for Georg to know that there was no figuring out the twins. Better to just not get involved.

He looked over the numerous bottles on the cart and back at Bill. “Are you trying to make me feel better or kill me?”

“Whichever works best,” Bill replied, smirking. Georg grinned and flipped him off.

“Maybe dinner first?” He found the menu on the dresser and scanned it quickly before tossing it back where he got it. “Burger and fries it is.”

***


Three hours later, Tom found himself pouring another drink and grabbing another bottle of beer for Georg at the same time. He didn’t know how the man could switch back and forth from liquor to beer without waking up feeling like a circus trampled through his head overnight. He’d just always had been able to. It was just one of those things you know about a friend--someone you care enough for to notice things about.

“What?” Georg's voice boomed and he flung his arm in the air, fingers gripping the controller. “You can’t…it can’t…Oh, no fucking way!”

Bill laughed sadistically as his car crossed the finish line, leaving Georg's car in the dust.

“This game so cheats,” Georg grumped, tossing the controller aside and standing, stretching his legs.

“Or maybe you just suck, Hagen.” Bill pointed at him. “Can’t take that play better than you?”

Georg rolled his eyes. “Whatever you wanna believe, Bill. You got lucky.” Draining the last of his rum and coke, he rose to get a beer and nearly ran into Tom, who was just returning with it and stumbling a little over his pant legs as he handed the bottle over. Georg laughed, taking it from him without question, his fingers curling around Tom's and holding them there until Tom caught his eyes and slowly pulled his hand away. Condensation from the glass dripped from his fingers and he rubbed them on his shirt, trying not the think about how his belly was doing somersaults.

“I get drunk and I can’t play for shit; you get drunk, you can’t walk for shit.” Georg's eyes glinted dark green and he took a long swig of his beer before setting it on the table in front of the couch. “What a pair we make.”

“Next time you’re missing notes on stage, I should smell your breath?” Bill asked, playfully, weaving a little on the way to the cart. “And hey thanks, Tom, for making my drink, too.”

“M’not your damn bartender.” Tom's face felt good and hot, and whether it was from the alcohol or Georg's touch, or his brother pointing out that Tom had only been getting Georg's drinks for him all night, he didn’t know. He sat in the middle of the couch just as Georg plopped down on the end, their thighs brushing and their hips pumping. Tom held his drink high, as if that would stop it from spilling, but the Red Bull and vodka sloshed over the side, anyway, leaving a large, wet spot on Tom's shirt and jeans. He cursed and put his glass on the table, where, he realized too late, he should have just put it in the first place.

“Does Red Bull stain?” Bill asked, sipping primly from his own glass before placing it carefully on the table in front of them. He rooted through the cold fries on his plate from room service; delicate, black-tipped fingers selecting three long fries and he dipped them in the ketchup and mayo mixture they’d ordered. He eyed Tom's shirt while he chewed thoughtfully.

“Ugh, I don’t know, Bill. Does it matter? I’ll buy a different shirt.” Tom stood up and dug through his suitcase for another set of clothes while Bill came up behind him, pinched Tom's sleeve and pulled him toward the bathroom.

“But I like that shirt. Though,” Bill looked back at Tom's pants disdainfully, “I have nothing good to say about those pants.” Swinging Tom around in front of him, he nudged him into the bathroom, turning back to Georg. “We’ll be right back.”

Bill closed the door behind him.

“What the hell are you doing, Bill?” Tom crossed his arms over his chest, squinting suspiciously at his brother.

“Helping you. Now get changed.” Bill laid out Tom's sweats and tee shirt on the counter like their mother would lay the twins clothes out of school when they were little. Tom balled them up again, just to be contrary.

“I’m a big boy, now, you know. What would I need help with?” Tom asked, muffled by the shirt Bill pulled over his head.

“Getting Georg, of course.” Bill started on the buckle of Tom's belt and Tom smacked his brother’s hands away. “What happened to that twin connection we’re always waxing poetic about?”

“It drowned in Red Bull and vodka.” Tom turned and pulled off his jeans, dropping them in the corner where Bill had thrown his shirt. He held his hand back and Bill handed him his sweats. Tom slipped them on and the new tee shirt followed. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about, getting Georg. That’s—“

“Tom, don’t lie to me,” Bill huffed, hanging onto the door handle for support. “I saw how you look at him and I saw how he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me like anything, Bill!” Tom said, harshly. “He has a girlfriend…had a girlfriend. He has no interest in me, even if I…” Tom winced and ran his palm over his face. Even in the chilly bathroom, he was sweating under Bill’s knowing gaze. He glanced at the door, wishing to just be out of this room and pretend that they never had this conversation. But because he couldn’t, because this was Bill and Bill would find out anyways and he might as well get this the hell over with, he groaned and gave in. “Even if I’m interested in him.”

Bill leaned back against the door with a drunken thump and hummed, nodding. “As more than friends.”

“Much more.” Tom winced. “That fucking obvious?”

“The signs have been there for a while, but I finally got it when I saw that look tonight.” Bill stood up, checking his face in the mirror. “But now there is no Anja and the way is free and clear.”

Tom frowned. “But he just got dumped. The timing is shit, Bill.”

“The timing is perfect, Tom. He needs comfort. He needs arms around him and a shoulder to cry on. You’re his best friend, so why not you? Only maybe it becomes something more.”

“And if it doesn’t? What if he freaks?” Tom caught his brother’s eyes in the mirror, looking so like his, except not scared, not vulnerable.

Bill turned and ran his fingers through the cornrows on the side of Tom's head, stroking lightly. “He’s not going to freak. I saw the same look in his eyes when he looked at you, Tom, remember? Girlfriend or no girlfriend, Georg is interested.”

Tom closed his eyes, swaying slightly at Bill’s touch. “I don’t know.”

“I do.” Bill’s hand dropped and he moved to the door. “Since Gustav's already in bed, I’m gonna go hang out with Nathalie. And you know, if I end up falling asleep there, you’ll know where I am, right?” Bill winked and pulled open the door. Tom heard him say goodbye to Georg and then the door of the hotel room snick closed behind him.

Tom took a deep breath and turned off the light, throwing the whole suite into darkness. While he and Bill where in the bathroom, Georg had turned out the light out there, too, and put on a movie, setting the sound low. Cautiously, Tom made his way to the couch.

Georg watched silently as Tom grabbed his glass and downed what was left in it before returning to the cart for another.

“You’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Tom replied, opening another Red Bull and pouring. “But man, it feels good tonight, doesn’t it?” Tom blushed in the darkness, his words taking his mind to places he didn’t often allow himself to go. Especially not with Georg right there, actually in the room. It just felt weird before, thinking of his best friend splayed out beneath him while Georg was sitting right next to him; seemed disrespectful, somehow. And although Tom was interested in much more than that with Georg, right now he was having a hard time getting the image out of his head. He stuttered, plucking another beer off the cart and bringing it to his friend. “Relaxing, I mean. We needed this.”

“I’m good.” Georg tipped the bottle in his hand toward Tom and sipped from it as Tom shrugged, placed the full beer on the table in front of Georg and settled himself on the other side of the couch.

Minutes passed and Tom squirmed inside. The silence was awkward and heavy between them and Tom's nerves were starting to cut through the heavy layer of alcohol. He couldn’t think of anything he should say and everything he wanted to say was nothing he could. But he knew if he didn’t say something, do something soon, he might never get the nerve up to try again.

But what if Bill was wrong? What if Tom wasn’t what Georg wanted or what he needed? What if he completely rejected Tom and went storming out the door?

That was not how he wanted this night to end. So maybe it would be better just to not say anything. He didn’t want to lose his friend, after all, and Tom wasn’t sure he wanted to take the chance that he might. Even for love.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Georg bow his head and rub at his eyes. He was obviously still upset and Tom's chest clenched. He cringed with the pain of it and set his drink back down on the table. He had to stop thinking of what he wanted and think about what was best for his friend. Georg had really felt something for Anja and Tom couldn’t ignore that; he just wanted Georg to not hurt anymore.

“Did you call her?” Tom asked, breaking the silence in the room, trying to control the slight slur of his tongue.

“Huh?” Georg's head whipped around. “Oh. Anja. No.”

“Why not? I’d have called her,” Tom said, happy to be talking again, to have something to say. “Breaking up with you in email is a cheap ass move, man.”

Georg gulped half his beer and clunked the brown bottle down hard enough on the table that beer fizzed up into the neck. “And what the hell would I say, Tom? Remind her how she told me she loved me and this was forever and then she breaks up with me before we’re even two months into the tour? How is that going to do either of us any good?”

Tom tried to focus on Georg's eyes cutting over him in irritation, but all he could seem to see were his lips. They were beautiful and plush, no matter how harsh the words coming from them. How could Anja turn this down? How could she push Georg away?

“Fuck it!” Tom shook himself. “I’ll call her.” He didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to, but if being with Anja made Georg happy, he would.

Georg sat back against the corner of the couch. “No, you won’t.”

“Yes,” Tom replied, determined. “I will.”

“No, you won’t. You don’t have her number.”

That could be a problem.

Tom scrunched his brows together before a solution came to him. He lifted his finger with a grin, making a point. “No, but you do. Gimme your phone, Hagen.”

“No.” Georg stood, swaying and holding his hand over the pocket Tom assumed held Georg's cell phone. Tom scrabbled clumsily to his feet, and half stumbling, he reached for Georg's pocket.

Georg deflected the grab, knocking Tom's hand away, but Tom countered with a lunge from his other hand. He was going to get that phone, even if he had to tackle Georg to do it! There was no need for that yet, though, because his fingers found their mark and dipped into Georg's pocket. Georg grabbed his wrist and squeezed just the tiniest bit. It should have been a warning but Tom wasn’t listening; he shoved his fingers harder, wiggling them in Georg's tight pocket, feeling for the hard plastic of the phone. Just as his fingertips skimmed the edge of it, he realized he was pressed right into Georg, pushing against him as some sort of leverage against Georg's restricting hand on his wrist.

Georg's grunted in Tom's ear, a deep, raw sound, and Tom froze.

“Dammit, Tom,” Georg rumbled, his breath wafting across Tom's neck and goosebumps followed the stream. His fingers paused and he forgot to breathe. He was bent so the neckline of Georg's tee shirt was just under his face, his lips hovering over the smooth skin of Georg's neck. “She doesn’t want me.”

Tom didn’t even think, he just spoke.

“Then she’s stupid,” he rasped. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. He waited.

Georg paused a beat before responding. “What?”

“She’s stupid if she doesn’t want you.” And Tom opened his lips, so slightly, and pressed them to Georg's warm skin.

Georg's grip on Tom's wrist relaxed but Tom didn’t. He closed his eyes tight and remained stiff against his friend, not daring to move anything other than the brush of his lips against skin he’d craved for years, and he waited for the ax to fall—the ax that would sever their friendship.

But no ax fell.

Georg groaned and let go of Tom's wrist entirely. He snaked his arms around Tom's waist, instead, and tilted his head into Tom's, his face pressing against Tom's cornrows. Tom's tension deflated and he brought his arms up and around Georg's shoulders, fingers weaving into the long, brown and copper hair that skimmed them. He kissed his way up Georg's neck, reveling in the way Georg’s breath hitched in his ear.

“Tom,” Georg interrupted, as Tom's lips nibbled at his jaw. “Hey.”

Tom stopped, his stomach jumping in fear. Had he misinterpreted his friend?

“I’m sorry,” he said, starting to pull back while he tried desperately to come up with an explanation, something witty that would make Georg laugh and not run.

“No, don’t be sorry,” Georg said, his voice thick and heavy. “Tell me you’re not sorry.”

Georg's face was flushed, his eyes dark and pinned on Tom's. Georg licked his lips nervously, pink tongue just peeking out and Tom zeroed in on the movement. He hardened against Georg's belly and dragged his palm to the back of Georg's neck.

“I’m not,” he replied, pausing while he searched Georg's eyes and tongued his lip ring, waiting for Georg's move. “I’m not if you don’t want me to be.”

Georg didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t want you to be, because I’m not sorry, either.” And he reached for the front of Tom's tee shirt, grabbing the neck of it and pulling Tom down.

Their lips met and they kissed roughly, brutally, as if trying to concentrate into one kiss all their aches and desires, and Tom's head spun. He licked at Georg's lips, tickling at the junction between them for only a moment before Georg opened and let him in. Hot tongues slid against each other frantically and Tom wanted to taste everything. He wanted Georg's mouth, Georg's skin; he wanted to know how the heavy weight of Georg's cock would taste on his tongue.

The visual alone had Tom moaning into Georg's mouth and he broke their kiss with a wet noise. Panting, he rested his forehead against Georg's, watching him as he swallowed hard and tried to catch his own breath.

“This is a little awkward,” Georg breathed.

“What is?” His fingers stroked the back of Georg's neck.

“You’re a fucking giant, Tom.” Georg's eyes wrinkled with laughter as Tom scoffed.

“Not my fault you’re a hobbit, Georg.” Tom grinned, grabbing Georg's hair in a loose fist and moving in for another shorter, more tender kiss. “Couch?”

“Hm,” Georg hummed and flicked his tongue against Tom's lips, dipping it inside with gentle sweeps. “No, I don’t think so.” He shook his head and Tom raised his own, in question.

“What then?”

“Bed,” Georg answered, and Tom was almost too surprised to notice how vulnerably Georg was looking at him. How the look in his friend’s eyes was so similar to the one he’s seen in his own in the bathroom mirror earlier. He almost didn’t notice, but he did.

He brushed the hair away from Georg's face, searching it. “Are you sure? I mean, what about Anja? Don’t do something you’ll regret, Georg.”

Georg captured Tom's hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing soft lips to each calloused fingertip. “I’m sure.” He held Tom's hand in his, rubbing his thumb over sharp knuckles. “Anja’s over. She was…I do love her, Tom. But...I wasn’t fair to her. I was with her, but she wasn’t who I wanted.”

Tom waited for more. Georg couldn’t be saying what Tom thought he was saying. He was drunk and probably reading much more into this than what Georg really meant. Still, that didn’t stop his belly from flipping.

“She isn’t who I wanted. I just never thought I could have who I wanted.” Georg sucked Tom's index finger into his mouth and ran his tongue around the pad and over the nail, and Tom felt it in his cock. He stared at his finger buried between Georg's lips and his head swam. “I couldn’t even let myself try.”

“C’mon,” Tom threaded his fingers with Georg's and tugged him toward the bed, stumbling against furniture in the alcoholic haze that surrounded him. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Wait.” Georg found the remote control and turned off the television, plunging the suite into blackness. Tom jumped when a warm hand closed around his arm, then let out a sigh of relief at Georg's comforting squeeze. Fingers fumbled at the hem of his shirt. “Let me.”

Tom did. He lifted his arms as Georg raised the tee shirt over his head and Tom helped, pulling it off and flinging it to the side, uncaring of where it landed. He did the same with Georg's shirt, and then Tom was touching him. Finally, really touching him.

He trailed his fingers softly down Georg's chest, over his hard abdomen down to the waistband of his sweats. Tom traced the line of cotton and elastic around Georg's hips and Georg's skin twitched with his gasp of breath.

“What about this? Do you want this?” Tom dipped his fingers under the waistband, pulling it down, pulling it out, his cock heavy and aching inside his own sweats.

Georg's answer was to hook his thumbs inside the cloth and slide the sweats down his legs, kicking them off when they pooled at his feet. Tom quickly did the same, too eager to wait for Georg to do it for him. He pulled the sheets back on the already rumpled bed and climbed between them, nervously waiting as Georg followed.

Georg's skin was hot against Toms everywhere they touched; knees bumping together, thighs sliding against each other, tightly coiled bellies rubbing straining, wet cocks between them. Tom licked at Georg's neck, tasting him, loving the taste of him more with each swipe of his tongue across flesh growing salty and damp.

They moved together, slowly, tentatively, rolling their hips against one another. Tom tucked an arm under Georg, pulling him tighter against his chest and wrapped long fingers over his hip, guiding their rhythm and Georg followed without pause.

This was what Tom had been waiting for; not just being so close to Georg, not just feeling him intimately against his skin, feeling Georg's heart thumping against his chest and hearing the deep rumble of pleasure from his throat. But this was what he’d been waiting for and needing and craving; being in Georg's arms and being who Georg wanted.

Teeth scraped over his shoulder, digging into his flesh as they thrust against each other, the pain pulling Tom from the brink of embarrassment. Their erections slid together, slipping in sweat and precome until they could only breathe in harsh pants and words whispered so low that they felt them rather than heard them.

But the friction wasn’t enough like this. Sweat was beading on Tom's forehead, dripping down the back of his neck and he needed more. With a growl, he pushed Georg back, climbing over the top of him, hovering there and entwining their legs until he’d have been hard pressed to determine which were his and which were Georg's and whether it even mattered anymore. He held himself over Georg and thrust his hips, harder than before, their cocks rolling over each other while Georg squirmed beneath him, clutching Tom's hips with a bruising grip.

Tom's eyes were clenched shut, the world no longer spinning from the alcohol he’d imbibed but from sheer physical pleasure, and he ducked his head, dropping it to Georg's shoulder. Georg slipped a hand between them and Tom pushed himself up on his hands, giving him room. And as soon as Georg's strong hand wrapped its fingers around their cocks, holding them together and jerking them with quick, sure strokes, Tom could swear he saw stars.

His knees shook, his toes curled and a whimpering sound he never knew he could make came from his throat. Georg's mouth was wet and open, and Tom took the invitation, nibbling at his lips and sucking on Georg's tongue like a hardened cock. He licked around it and over the tip, flicking the end until he sucked it in hard and Georg bucked beneath him. Georg completely unraveled, groaning loudly into Tom's mouth, stiffening and releasing, coming hot and wet over their skin.

Tom couldn’t hold back any longer and he didn’t try. He rolled his hips in flickering stutters, Georg fisting only Tom's dick now, squeezing at the tip and rubbing his thumb under the head until Tom came hard in his hand, thighs tense and muscles clenched. He breathed out a sigh, slowing his hips down as Georg drew out the last of his orgasm.

When he finally lay down next to his old friend and his new lover, Tom's muscles felt like jelly. As their breathing returned to normal and their skin cooled, Tom slid a hand across the sheet and over Georg's leg.

The last thing he knew before he drifted off was something wiping at his belly and then a warm body pressed against him. Tom lifted his arm and pulled Georg against his side with a low murmur against the top of Georg's head and a pleased hum in his throat.

***


Tom awoke as he fell asleep, a low, happy sound coming from the back of his throat, this time because something wet and tight was sliding up and down his cock. Before his eyes were even open, Tom was grabbing at the sheets, his belly tensing in pleasure. The pressure on his dick stopped and Tom whined.

“You’re awake.” Tom looked down his chest at Georg on his knees between his legs, plump, wet lips hovering over the head of Tom's erection. His dick twitched in Georg's stroking fingers at the sight and, with a sly smile, Georg lapped at the tip as he jacked it slowly.

“God, yes, I’m awake. Who could sleep through that tongue?” Tom asked, and was rewarded with that same tongue swirling under the lip of his foreskin while Tom whimpered. No girl had ever done that before; they usually acted like the sensitive sleeve of skin just wasn’t there. “Why did you stop?” Tom let his head flop back on the pillow and reached down for Georg, running his fingers through the long, messy strands.

“Still nervous, I guess?” Georg rubbed his cheek against Tom's balls, nuzzling them and running his hair over the delicate skin. His fingers didn’t falter in their rhythm and Tom's belly tightened further.

“Oh god, don’t pick now to be nervous,” Tom said, biting at his lip and looking down again in time to see Georg push his hair back from his face, lock eyes with Tom, and suck Tom's dick toward the back of this throat. Tom keened and struggled to keep his hips on the bed as Georg licked down his shaft. His balls tightened dangerously and he knew he wouldn’t hold out. “Georg!” he warned—

The hotel room door flung open wide and Bill struggled through the entry, carrying several shopping bags on each arm and looking back over his shoulder, “Nat, I don’t care how cute that guy was, I’m not giving him my—Oh!“ Bill’s bags hit the floor.

“Fuck, Bill!” Tom yelled.

As Bill stood staring from the hall, Georg groped for the blankets, bunched up at the foot of the bed, and Tom rolled away from him, cupping his painfully swollen erection against his stomach.

“Bill. Out!” Georg ordered, and Bill startled. His cheeks flushed crimson and he grabbed for the handles of his bags, picking them up all at once and dropping a couple as he did.

“Shit. Shit, I’m sorry,” Bill said. “I’ll just—“He snagged the bags that fell and started to back toward the door, stumbling over his feet as he reached it. He came back in few steps, eyes wide. “Tom, you…already? I didn’t think you would really…Did he have his--?”

“Bill, get out!” Tom buried his face in the pillow and pointed at the door. At least with all the blood rushing to his face, he didn’t have to worry anymore about sporting an erection in front of his brother.

“Okay, okay!” Shopping bags rustling around his knees, Bill spun and threw open the door.

As soon as the door clicked closed behind his brother, Tom groaned into the pillow and Georg spooned behind him, pressing his hot face into Tom's back.

After a moment, Georg's lips moved against his skin. “My first blowjob wasn’t such a success, was it?”

Tom grunted and rolled onto his back, eyebrows raised. “Are you serious?”

Georg propped himself up on his elbow, his hair falling over Tom's chest and tickling him as he shrugged.

“It was good. Jesus, it was damn good.” He watched Georg blush and he grinned lasciviously. “You’d have had a mouthful of come in another minute, if not for my idiot brother.”

Georg flicked a look at Tom's eyes and he smiled. “Yeah, you were getting close, weren’t you?”

“So close.” Tom nodded. He leaned up to capture Georg's lips with his own but Georg pulled just out of his reach.

“Maybe it’s a good thing he busted in.” Georg offered and Tom raised his brows in disbelief. “No, really. You said we’d talk in the morning.”

Tom glanced at the sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains. “Looks like afternoon. I think we missed talking time.” He chuckled and nipped at Georg's jaw, tonguing the morning stubble. Sliding his arm over a slim hip, he nudged Georg toward him.

“Okay.” Georg pulled back again, just far enough to get Tom to look in his eyes. “Okay, but look, we were drunk last night and I don’t know…I want to make sure that this is really what you want. That being with me can be it for you.” Georg closed his eyes, as if waiting for the second major blow to his heart in two days.

“Georg.” He twirled a lock of Georg's hair around his finger and tugged on it. “I’ve wanted you since before you started straightening your hair.” Tom grinned, leading Georg in closer by his hair until their lips met and they kissed for the first time that day; for the first time sober. “Now that I know how you feel, you’re not getting rid of me so easy.”

Georg nodded, his limbs melting against Tom as he kissed him firmly, possessively. “So...” he started, trailing a hand down Tom's abdomen and sneaking it under the covers. “Want me to try again?”

Tom didn’t even have time to answer before Georg was moving slowly down his body, ducking his head under the covers and taking Tom's lengthening cock into his mouth, suckling on it. Tom weaved his fingers through Georg's hair, and was making encouraging sounds when his cell phone went off across the room, playing Bill’s ringtone. Georg stilled.

Georg's groan was muffled by the blankets and he mumbled around Tom's dick in his mouth, “Boundaries, Tom. Your brother needs boundaries.”

Tom laughed and threw the covers over his head.