Working For Tips, Tom/Bill/Georg, NC17

[steins_stories]

Title: Working for Tips
Author: steinsgrrl
Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Pairing: Tom/Bill/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: Twincest-not related, light kink
Summary: Georg thought they were giving him the opportunity to earn a little extra money.

Money isn’t everything.

Author's Note:Written for the 2010 FQF on th_fanfic on LJ, from a prompt by maria_d_edwards. Lovely banner by mariesen. Beta by ma_chelle and fyredancer. Thank you, ladies! ♥



Georg groaned as he slid into the driver’s seat of his beat up car. He hadn’t been gone three minutes but the damn thing had died again. He turned off the radio and the heater and turned the key. The car chugged and groaned, threatening to die for good, and Georg desperately pumped the gas pedal, his head falling forward to touch the steering wheel.

“Come on, you dying sack of…” he murmured, before deciding maybe sweet talking the old machine might be the better way to go. “Aw, come on, old girl! You know you’re a good car, just start up for me one more time. One more time, that’s all I ask.”

The engine sputtered to life, and Georg fed it a little more gas, hoping to tease it into a steady whir. Finally, when it sounded good to go, Georg leaned back against the headrest with a relieved sigh.

This had to stop. There had to be something else out there for him, because he just wasn’t making it delivering pizza. Having to use his own car didn’t help at all, considering he’d had to up his insurance and pay extra because of it. This gig just wasn’t paying the bills.

When he’d first started, he thought he’d make plenty of money to cover his bills. He didn’t spend much, so he figured his base wage plus tips equaled enough to pay rent, utilities, gas and food, and maybe a little left over for a beer with the guys every once in a while. What Georg didn’t count on was the fact that the tips for a pizza guy really aren’t that great. Lots of people don’t even tip, and the ones who do, don’t tip enough to cover for the ones who don’t.

Now Georg was getting behind on bills, his car was a piece of shit, and he really…really could use a beer.

But it wasn’t happening right now. Now he had one more pizza to deliver before he could go back to the pizzeria to pick up the next set of deliveries. He huffed and put the car in gear.

*****

That one last pizza was getting cold, even though it was tucked safely inside the warming bag. Georg had been driving around this suburb for the last fifteen minutes, squinting at the house numbers. It was fully dark and the streets here had streetlights, which was great for safety but still crap for seeing house numbers. He was cursing quietly about people’s too small fucking house numbers when he noticed the house he’d been looking for.

It was small and tucked away in the alley behind a larger Victorian in the middle of the block. Lights were blazing from what he thought must be the living room and he nearly smacked himself in the forehead. Why on earth hadn’t he seen that before?

He set his jaw as he carefully negotiated the gravel covered alley, driving around the deeper potholes and very slowly through the more shallow ones. He didn’t need to throw a tie rod right now. Just a few more feet brought him to the front of the house and he stopped, throwing the car in park and snatching up the pizza as he looked at the clock on the dash. He was late.

Muttering more curses under his breath, Georg made his way through the gate, up the steps and to the front door. His initial knock went unanswered, and he pursed his lips as he tried to peek in the window set into the door. He saw nothing.

He rang the bell, poking it hard and just a couple seconds too long with a stiff index finger before turning to scope the neighborhood. He hoped this wasn’t a set up, because he was definitely not in the mood to be dealing with that. Once, he had tried to deliver to a house and while counting out the bills from a smirking college boy, a group of young punks had swarmed his running car, opened the doors and locked them all before running off, laughing hysterically. It had taken an hour to get the damn locksmith out to open it for him and all the other pizzas in the car had to be remade. His boss had been pissed.

The door opened quickly behind him and Georg spun around.

The guy who answered the door looked like such a baby thug wannabe, all decked out in cornrows and oversized pants that hung half off his ass, and Georg had a hard time stifling his snort. He didn’t need to offend this customer. Georg was already late, and the guy could—

“You’re late,” the man said, shortly, digging into the back pocket of his baggy jeans and pulling out a wallet.

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” Georg stammered, looking back at his crappy car and juggling the pizza in his hands nervously. “I couldn’t find the house. It’s kinda hiding back here.” He laughed nervously, hoping the guy would agree and chuckle with him in sympathy. It didn’t work.

“You know, I could call in and get this pizza for free. Tell them their pizza boy was late.” The guy looked at him with a raised, black brow. He crossed his arms, cash dangling in his hand under one armpit as he looked down on Georg.

Georg's stomach dropped. He’d hoped they wouldn’t do this. Now he was gonna get his ass chewed when he got back to the store. “Look, I’m really sorry. I tried to get here faster but there was nothing I could do. Please don’t—“

“Tom, are you tormenting that poor pizza boy?” A slim hand with manicured black tips slid around Tom's belly and caressed him through his tee shirt as a gorgeous, black haired girl looked over Tom's shoulder.

Tom scoffed. “Not tormenting. He was late, so why shouldn’t we get our pizza for free?” He covered the hand on his belly with his own, weaving his own bare fingers in with her delicate ones.

“That’s a good question.” The girl turned her attention to Georg, who swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. “Why shouldn’t we get our pizza for free, pizza boy?”

Suddenly, it didn’t seem quite so cold outside. Georg's face burned hot as he shuffled his feet. “I tried to get here one time, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t my fault. My car wouldn’t start, no matter how much I turned the key or pumped the gas. Nothing. Then I couldn’t find your house. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Huh,” the girl replied, looking him up and down before her thickly lined, brown eyes turned distant. “So your car wouldn’t start. You need to fix it, I guess.”

“Yeah, I need to fix it, but first I have to get the money to fix it. That, I don’t have. And I won’t have it if you get my ass fired for being late. Please, just do me a favor? Cut me a break?” Georg didn’t like to have to plead but really, what choice did he have left?

Tom smirked at him as the girl hummed and playfully kissed the junction of Tom's neck and shoulder. “I don’t know, Tom, what do you think?” She licked the spot she’d just kissed, her wet tongue stud twinkling its presence in the low streetlamp light. Georg's groin tightened and he caught half a breath. “Think we might have a ‘break’ for this nice, young…” She reached her hand from Tom's belly and ran her fingers softly, teasingly over Georg's forearm as he held the pizza before them. “…man?” Her eyes glittered as they held his and Georg found himself leaning just the slightest bit toward her as she pulled her hand away.

Tom looked him up and down, as the girl had done before, his eyes appraising him as they traveled his body. “Hm, I don’t know if he’s interested in what we have to offer, Bill. Even if we offer him a nice tip for it.” Tom winked at him. “What do you think, pizza boy?”

Georg didn’t know what he thought. He couldn’t actually think at all, since right after Tom's offer of a nice tip for his services, his brain had finally caught on that Tom had called that hot girl behind him ‘Bill’.

Now, as far as Georg knew, girls weren’t named Bill. Because what kind of horrible parent would name their daughter Bill, anyway? So that could only mean…

That could only mean that Bill was a boy. Bill was a man, and Tom was a man, and these two gorgeous fucking creatures in this doorway wanted to pay him to have gay sex with them.

He recoiled a step as his ears buzzed. He wasn’t gay. Hadn’t ever had the slightest thought of fucking a man. However, his dick was a fucking traitor and was hard as a rock in his jeans.

He wanted to answer them as they stood in their doorway, looking at him expectantly as the warmth of the room behind them wafted around them and curled around Georg. He wanted to answer them, but his tongue felt thick, his head was screaming ‘NO!’, the hard cock in his pants was screaming ‘OH HELL YES!’, and he panicked. He thrust the pizza at Tom's hands, letting go just as Tom grasped the edge of it, and he ran.

He turned there on the doorstep without another word and he ran for his car. Throwing it in gear, he sped down the alley as quickly as he could, potholes be damned, and he didn’t stop until his heartbeat slowed and his breath evened out.

*****

As Georg slipped the key into the lock on his front door, he fought every urge to slump against the dirty wood. He was dead tired. He’d been either making or delivering pizzas for fourteen hours straight and he felt it in every bone and muscle in his body.

He let himself in and toed off his shoes, nudging them toward the wall, and tossed his jacket on top of them. He just couldn’t be bothered to hang it up. Not when the couch was across the room, looking so inviting and horizontal. He so needed a piece of that.

Smirking to himself—because a real smile would have taken muscles and effort—Georg shuffled across the thin carpet of his living room and belly flopped face first into the cracked, fake leather. He’d sweated enough during his shift that his face was immediately glued to the cushion but he didn’t even care.

The day had been too long and too hard and he groaned as he relaxed his aching muscles. This was ridiculous. He didn’t mind delivering pizza. Sure, it seemed like a shit job, but it really wasn’t. The only problem was that it didn’t pay the bills and there didn’t seem to be any other jobs available. Otherwise, he was happy. He got to be outside a lot, got to meet a lot of people, some of them very interesting. Like the guy with the cornrows and his boyfriend. Or whatever he was. Georg grunted and peeled his face off the couch, only to turn it and press his forehead into the olive green fabric.

They were something else, those two. He’d had some seriously homely girls meet him at the door wearing sexy negligees, he’d had older women flirt outrageously with him. He’d even had a couple come to the door naked and covered in sweat when he’d delivered just a little bit faster than they’d expected. And while he’d taken his stories back to the store, he’d never really thought about them much after that. His encounter with Tom and Bill, though, had stuck with him all night.

One of the drawbacks of his job was the time he had to do nothing but think. When he was driving, when he was waiting for someone to open the door, even if he was stuck at the store making pizzas, he had too much time to think. After that delivery, for which he’d caught maximum hell and received a verbal warning from his asshole shift supervisor, he’d done nothing but think.

He thought about Bill, the fucking fine girl who wasn’t a girl. He couldn’t really blame his dick for getting all interested in that. That was a serious bait ‘n switch operation she had going there. He had going…he had going, he reminded himself. The man just looked so soft, so soft, everywhere from his hands to his lips.

Oh god, his lips. Georg's breath puffed against the couch, his breath rebounding hot in his face. His hips twitched, brushing his hardening dick against the cushion, and stifling a groan, he flipped over to lie on his back, dragging that damn traitorous dick away from anything to push against. He should get up and take a shower, he thought. When you work in a pizza place for eight, ten, twelve hours a day, the smell of grease and meat and cheese gets in your pores. After a while, you can’t smell it, but everyone else can.

Not like he had anyone to impress anyway. He hadn’t had a girlfriend in over a year. Hell, he couldn’t afford one. Girls like to be treated right and he liked to treat them right, but he couldn’t do that on what he made. He really needed more money, he thought, tucking one arm behind his head. He wondered if he was friendlier, chattier, with the customers, would they tip him better. What could he do to earn more and not give up his job?

It all really came down to tips. He closed his eyes tight. Tom and Bill had offered him a tip for his services.

His dick twitched in his jeans at the thought and Georg stifled the urge to rub his palm against it. He curled the fingers that rested on his belly, gripping his work shirt to keep them safely above his waist. He wasn’t going to touch himself. No, he wasn’t. Not thinking of those two, he wasn’t.

And yet, his fingers released the fabric under them, inching down toward the button of his jeans. He really wasn’t going to do this, he thought, glaring at the hand that seemed to obey his dick and ignore everything else.

But they were men, he thought, as his fingers fumbled with the button. He wasn’t attracted to men.

But they were beautiful men, his dick seemed to be telling him, as it only got harder. He could see them in his head, standing in front of him, Bill’s arms wrapped around Tom's belly, his manicured nails glinting in the lamplight as they stroked over Tom's chest, moving slowly lower…lower…

Georg grunted and pulled his arm from behind his head to undo his jeans with both hands. His head thumped to the cushion and he stared with slitted, heavy eyes at the water stained ceiling above him. As soon as his jeans were open, he pulled them halfway down his thighs and rubbed a sweaty palm over his erection, his mouth falling open as pleasure began to trickle through his veins. He clenched his eyelids shut and immediately saw Bill licking his lips behind them.

Fuck it, he thought, ripping his briefs down and taking himself firmly in hand.

“Ngggh! Fine, I’d fuck it,” he admitted with a groan through gritted teeth as he jerked himself hard and fast.

It didn’t take long, not with the way his thumb flicked over the slit of his cock, dragging the moisture from the tip down his shaft and making his toes curl. He wanted that man. He wanted this load inside that man, and with that thought, that phantom feeling of Bill’s ass squeezing his cock so hard and so right, Georg came. His teeth clenched, his thighs tensed, his toes pointed and curled and he shot hard.

After his body relaxed and his breath slowed, he looked down to where his spent and used cock lay squeezed in his come covered hand. There was come everywhere, including all over his work shirt. He grunted and dropped his head back to the couch. This had been his last clean shirt.

Fuck, he thought, refusing to let himself think yet about what he’d just done. Now he’d have to do laundry again. He wiped his hand on his shirt, since it needed cleaning anyway, and stood up. Now he really needed that shower.

*****

Georg drove around the next day feeling like an army of hyperactive butterflies had taken up residence in his belly. His hands had started shaking when he’d clocked in at work and they hadn’t stopped yet. Even as he gripped the steering wheel too tightly, he could feel the tremble in his shoulders, and it only got worse as the evening wore on.

He’d made up his mind, though; he was going to do it. It would have been against his principals, had he actually had many, but for the most part, he didn’t really care about getting paid for sex. He was getting paid and having sex; what could be wrong with that?

No, he was nervous because he really had no idea what to do with men. Sure, he could figure out what to do with a dick; Georg had been the proud owner of one for quite a few years now. It was the other stuff that he didn’t know how to handle.

He turned another corner, his eyes stinging from lack of sleep, as he searched for his delivery. Maybe they wouldn’t even want that, he thought, trying to keep his hopes up. Maybe they just wanted him to blow them or something. Maybe they wanted to blow him, he thought, raising a brow and quirking his lips. He wasn’t gonna hold his breath on that one.

Georg spotted the house he was delivering to and pulled into the driveway. Throwing the car in park and reaching for the warmer, he glanced at the clock. Three hours and he would be done with work. Three hours and fifteen minutes and he would be at their house.

As Georg opened the door and stepped out, taking the hot pizza box with him, the butterflies in his belly took flight again.

*****

The house looked no different from the first time he was there. The front window glowed with orange light, filtered through sheer curtains and Georg could see shadows moving behind it. They would meet and move together in a big dark blob, before parting and going separate directions. Could he do this now that he could actually see them?

He squared his shoulders and steeled his resolve. He had to do this. Hell, he needed to do this. He needed to pay his bills and eat and he couldn’t seem to find a better job, so he needed to. Besides, if his dick had anything to say about it, he’d already be in that house, doing whatever it was they wanted of him. And his dick could be pretty persuasive.

Georg took a deep breath and turned the key, shutting off his car engine. He fumbled with the door handle, his eyes still focused on the house. The walk to the front door was a blur behind him and before he knew it, his hand reached out and rang the bell.

He heard nothing from the inside, no indication that they’d heard him, just the same murmuring behind the door that he’d heard when he crested the top step. He waited a moment…two…three, and had just touched the white plastic dome of the bell again when the door opened slowly in front of him, and there was Bill.

He stood in the narrow gap of the door, open just far enough that Georg could finally see all of Bill’s slim form. He was dressed in jeans that hung low on his hips and a tee shirt that should have seen the donation box years ago, it was so tiny. His hair was long and loose, his face made up and when he licked his lips, Georg almost forgot his English.

“Hey, Tom!” Bill called over his shoulder. “It’s the pizza boy!” He turned his attention back to Georg, his eyes flashing at him mischievously. “Well, hello there, pizza boy.” Bill cocked a hip out and leaned his shoulder against the door jam.

“Um. Hi.” Georg praised the gods that he didn’t stutter, after the look that Bill gave him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted his balance, his gaze falling to the wood slats of the front porch.

“We didn’t order any pizza, pizza boy,” Bill said softly, letting go of the door and hooking his thumb through a belt loop. “Whatcha doing here?”

“I, um.” Georg flicked his eyes back up to Bill as he heard a noise just beyond the door.

“So it is the pizza boy,” Tom said, coming up behind Bill and wrapping possessive fingers around his bare hip.

“Mhm,” Bill hummed with delight. “It’s that pizza boy. And look, baby, he’s all nervous and shy. I think he came here for the tip he didn’t get last night.” Bill threaded his fingers through Tom's and drifted their hands sensually over his belly, trailing goosebumps over the smooth, exposed flesh.

Georg could feel the blush creep up his face and his hoodie felt stiflingly hot. He shuffled his feet and bit the inside of his lip as he met Tom's inquiring eyes. He paused for a moment, but then blew out the breath he’d been holding and nodded. “Yeah. I mean. I don’t know how—“

“You know, I think we can work the details out inside, don’t you?” Bill asked, his thin, cool fingers sliding around Georg's wrist as he tugged him into the house. “Right, Tom?”

As he stepped over the threshold, Georg caught the look Bill gave Tom with that question. It was seeking and begging and lustful all at once and Georg found himself hoping Tom said yes, too. Maybe not yet as much as Bill was hoping Tom said yes, but that was the moment Georg knew he really wanted this.

He needn’t have worried; Tom snaked an arm around Bill’s waist and pulled him hard against his chest, kissing him thoroughly enough that it made Georg squirm where he stood. Tom's eyes were full of fire and something else, something intimate, when he pulled back and whispered against Bill’s lips, just loud enough for Georg to hear.

“Anything you want, baby. Anything for you.”

Bill grinned and flicked his tongue at Tom's bottom lip, sucking it in quickly and letting it go before he turned back to Georg.

“Come on, what are you waiting for?” Bill eyed him wickedly, his hot gaze sliding over him as he broke away from Tom and closed the door behind him. “After you, pizza boy.”

“Georg,” he said, stepping into the living room and turning back to Bill. “My name is Georg.”

“Huh. Good to know,” Bill replied, nonchalantly. He grasped Georg's wrist again and pulled at him, aiming them for the stairs on the other side of the living room. “Upstairs.”

“Hey!” Georg stopped and Bill looked back with a quick look of irritation that he quickly smoothed off his face. “But I don’t know anything about you. Shouldn’t we get to know each other at least a little?”

Tom chuckled behind him from where he stood, writing something as he bent over a pristine, black desk. He stuffed it in an envelope and Georg watched him, unsure and uncomfortable, until he felt Bill nuzzling into his neck, his lips brushing over the soft skin under his ear.

“Silly Georg. We don’t need to know you to fuck you,” Bill breathed hotly against the shell of his ear before running just the tip of his tongue across the bottom of his lobe. “Now do you wanna fuck me, or what?”

Georg nearly choked on his own saliva and he swallowed hard to cover it. Bill felt electric before him, making his skin tingle, and his dick was so hard in his pants that it hurt. Did he want to fuck Bill? God, he’d never wanted anything more in his life.

“God, yes,” Georg said, his voice husky and dark.

“Then let’s go.” He felt a hand on his shoulder, strong fingers kneading the hard muscle there as Tom helped guide him toward the first step.

At the top of the stairs was a little landing that led to three closed doors. Bill opened the one on the left and brought Georg into a bedroom that looked as if it had been professionally designed in muted blues and brown, the focal point being the large bed right in the center of the room. Bill stopped next to it and turned to Georg. For a moment, he looked quite serious, and Georg's brows furrowed.

“We have one rule. No kissing on the lips. Okay? You’re good with that?” Bill ducked his head and raised his brows, eyes pinned on Georg, and Georg nodded quickly.

“Yeah, oh yeah,” he stammered. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” Bill sighed, almost as if in relief, and nodded to Tom, still standing behind Georg.

Georg felt fingers toying with the edges of his hoodie and he lifted his arms so Tom could pull the garment over his head. He stood waiting, not knowing what to do, not knowing what they wanted him to do, as Bill eyed him hungrily.

“Ohh,” Bill breathed, running a fingertip from Georg's collarbone down his pecs and over his tight abs to the waistband of his jeans. “You take good care of yourself, don’t you, Georg?”

Stronger hands, just as thin but not as delicate, stole around his chest and Tom's palms rubbed lightly over the hardening nipples he found there. Georg's knees began to feel awfully weak as he tried to remember how to breathe.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

Bill hummed and took a step closer, so close that Georg could feel his heat. “Take my shirt off.”

Georg grasped the hem of Bill’s shirt before he’d even finished his request, lifting it over his head and tossing it to where his own shirt had been thrown. The rustle of fabric behind him told him that Tom had followed suit, and Georg twitched when Tom's arms wrapped around him, bringing their bodies flush as his warm, hard chest pressed against Georg's back.

Georg could fuck Bill. His dick said he could fuck Bill, and fuck him yet again, because even though Bill was a man, Bill looked an awful lot like a woman. Tom, however; Tom was all male. He was toned and masculine and gorgeous, his mind supplied, and Georg shook his head, willing that voice away.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Bill closed the space between them, his own body pressing nicely against Georg's, smelling so good that Georg just wanted to taste him and forget about the man with his groin tucked against the top of his ass.

A noise escaped his throat at the question. What had he gotten himself into? Could he even do this?

Bill must have recognized the look of trepidation on his face, no matter how much Georg tried to hide it. He took Georg's chin in his fingers, turning his face toward him.

“It’s me and him, Georg,” Bill said quietly. “We don’t do this separately. You want me, you get him, too. And trust me,” he continued, jutting his hardening cock into Georg's belly as Tom's hands wandered up, fingers circling the nipples Tom had teased before. “You won’t be sorry.”

It didn’t seem right, it wasn’t his thing, but if how he felt with Tom's hands over his cock and balls was anything to go by, the way he touched and teased and ran blunt fingernails across his bulge, Georg had to admit that it didn’t feel like anything to be sorry about.

With a groan, Georg stretched his arms behind him and touched his fingers to the tops of Tom's thighs, just skimming lightly over the denim encasing them. It was acceptance; it was willingness beyond lip service, and Tom's lips grazed hotly against his neck in reply.

Bill grinned, obviously pleased, and he smoothly slipped open the button on Georg's jeans, before leaving the rest to Georg and quickly shimmying out of his own pants. The rest of their clothes followed in a rush of flying limbs and newly bared skin. In a moment, they were naked and standing before him, and Georg's nerves came rushing back tenfold.

It wasn’t his fault, he thought. There was no way he could help being nervous; as pleased as Georg was with the way his body looked, Bill and Tom were tall and beautiful. Bill was slim and slinky, his skin a little lighter than Tom's, with intricate black tattoos etched into it. Tom, on the other hand, was built and toned. Not quite as much as Georg, but what he had looked good on him. More than good on him, if Georg listened to his dick.

As if sensing his nervousness, all at once they each grabbed one of Georg's hands and pulled him easily toward the bed, climbing on it as they did. He followed, trying to remind himself why he was doing this, but finding in his head that the reason now seemed less and less important. They lay on either side of the bed and he settled between them on his back, looking from one to the other as they propped themselves on their elbows to look down at him. He watched their eyes take him in, watched Bill’s gaze dance down his body as his pink tongue darted from between his lips, slicking over the plush bottom lip, and Georg's belly tightened. He looked over just in time to see Tom suck his lip ring into his mouth, his dark eyes firmly on Bill. He was watching Bill want, and out the corner of his eye, Georg could see Tom palm his own cock lightly.

“Uh uh, none of that,” Bill reprimanded, batting Tom’s hand away from the grip he had on his dick. “We have a guest and we should make him feel comfortable. Right, Georg?” Bill grazed tickling nails up Georg's arm and across his chest. “What can we do to make you more comfortable?”

Georg's mind immediately went blank. Put on the spot, he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say, no witty comebacks would be falling from his lips. Especially not with the visions in his head of himself clasped firmly between Bill’s legs, thrusting into him hard as they sweated and moaned. Not with the unexpected vision of Tom sucking his dick, looking up at him from beneath his bare, sinfully thick lashes. That one brought with it a noise somewhere between a grunt and a strangled moan, and he stared back at Bill with wide eyes.

Bill smirked down at him and flattened his palm on Georg's belly. “Well, if you don’t have any ideas, I imagine I can think of something. How about we start here?” Bill dipped his head, captured Georg's pert nipple between his lips and laved a flat tongue over it. Georg sucked in a breath so hard it caught in his throat, his chest arching sharply toward that mouth as Bill tried to hold him down with his palm.

Watching Bill’s dark head moving with the flicking of his tongue, Georg missed Tom's smirk and the dip of the other man’s head as he claimed Georg's other nipple, scraping his teeth over the peak until Georg's belly was tight and aching and he found himself clawing at the comforter beneath them. Someone’s hand tightened on this thigh and lightly scratched its way up and Georg's head started to spin.

Both nipples were abandoned in an instant and Georg blew out the breath he’d been holding. “Jesus…” He could only manage a whisper, still coming down from being overwhelmed with sensation and feeling like the room was suddenly much hotter than it had been when they’d come in.

“Hm, or maybe we could…” Georg blinked hard and focused on Bill as he looked at Tom with a gleam in his eye. He caught the head gesture, caught Tom's knowing grin but didn’t have a clue what they were planning until they moved together down his body, kissing and sucking and leaving little, purple marks on his feverishly hot skin.

Georg's eyes widened as he gripped the comforter. The flash of Bill’s tongue stud over his skin, the cool of Tom's lip ring dragging over his hip; everything was magnified, every feeling enhanced, until his hips were straining up, straining toward the heat of their mouths. His dick was so hard, aching so much, and he was starting to fear that they wouldn’t even get their mouths on him before he blew his load all over like a nervous teenager receiving his first handjob.

And then Bill’s lips were suckling at the head of his cock, his tongue flicking over the sensitive underside as it bounced against his belly, and he almost came undone. Tom licked a wide stripe over his balls and took one into his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue as Bill lapped at the tip of his dick. A thin line of clear precome stretched from Bill’s tongue to the end of Georg's cock and he lost control over his hips. He thrust up, pushing toward Bill’s mouth, toward Tom's tongue, his knees coming up for leverage, and Bill grinned, pushing him firmly back down to the mattress. He licked his lips slowly as he shook his head.

“Be nice, pizza boy,” he said, huskily. “Maybe you want a turn?”

Georg furrowed his brows in confusion. He could barely form a thought anymore, with the feel of Bill’s mouth still on his cock and Tom's tongue separating and rolling his balls until his thighs tingled.

Bill crawled up his body, resting for a moment on his knees near Georg's shoulder. He tucked Georg's hair to the side and, lifting one long thigh, he straddled Georg's chest. Suddenly, Georg had a hard, dripping cock tapping against his chin. He took a deep breath and locked eyes with Bill, the soft musk of Bill’s sex filling his lungs.

“Suck me,” Bill demanded, and Georg opened his lips before he had time to think twice. Bill slid the tip of his dick over them, wetting them, slicking them, and Georg dared to flick his tongue against the slit. Bill watched his mouth with dark eyes as his own lips fell open, slack.

Georg had tasted his own precome before, just an experimental drop or two on his fingertip when he’d jacked off as a teenager. This was different. This was straight from the source, and Bill tasted different than Georg remembered himself tasting. Bill’s was thinner and sweeter, and Georg's belly tightened hard as he groaned, giving in to his want for more. He opened his mouth wider, took Bill’s cock firmly in hand, and sucked it down.

Bill groaned deeply and leaned back to brace his palms on Georg's thighs, his hips stuttering with the rhythm of Georg's hand as he suckled at the head of Bill’s dick. It had gone purple, it was so engorged, so hard, and Georg tightened his grip, swirling his tongue around it.

Concentrating as he was on sucking Bill off, Tom between his legs had faded into the background until he heard a soft, plastic click. His legs were nudged further open, his knees propped up as Bill thrust lightly into his mouth, moving his hands to Georg's hips, and Georg’s stomach twisted as something cold touched his ass.

His eyes widened and he couldn’t help but jump, not going far, pinned to the bed as he was by Bill. He garbled around Bill’s dick, hoping Bill would read the question in his eyes.

Bill leaned forward, changing the angle, and slid his cock deeper into Georg's mouth. “Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.” He petted a slim finger down Georg's sucked in cheek. “We just got you; we wouldn’t want to break you, right?” he asked with a delicious smile, and Georg blew out through his nose.

He tried to relax, tried to open up, though his stomach was roiling and his thighs were tense. This wasn’t what he came for, was it? He’d come here to fuck Bill and hadn’t let himself think about someone putting something—anything—in there. Not really.

Then, before he could think about it further or even decide whether or not he wanted to protest, what he thought was Tom's finger stopped circling his hole and slipped inside. Georg groaned around the cock in his mouth as Bill slowly fucked his face. It wasn’t a groan of protest or even excitement, but a groan of surprise as a spark of pleasure lit below his balls. He tried not to tighten, tried not to tense up and push Tom's finger out, and as he breathed in on Bill’s out-stroke, he let his knees fall open.

Tom stroked his thigh as he worked his finger slowly in and out of Georg and he actually felt himself opening up to more, opening up to Tom adding another finger. He swallowed hard and found his hips tilting, his body seeking more, and Bill groaned above him.

Bill’s hips broke rhythm, his cock pushing sloppily between Georg's lips as his balls tightened on Georg's chin. Georg's eyes flew up to meet Bill’s, only to see that his eyes were shut tight, teeth biting his lip, and just as Bill’s face began to screw up in a pleasured grimace, just as Georg was bracing himself for a load down his throat, Bill pulled off.

He pulled his cock out of Georg's mouth with a slick pop and leaned back, leaning away from the swollen lips that had been sucking him off so good. His cock was red and hard and gleaming with Georg's saliva and his own precome and it bobbed over Georg's chin like a tempting sweet, just out of reach of the tongue that Georg thrust out and strained toward it.

“No,” Bill panted, breathy and low. “Not yet. Don’t touch.” And he pushed Georg's head back down on the pillow with two fingers to his forehead. Georg grunted but relented, now suddenly more aware of the stretching that was going on between his legs.

Tom had worked up to three fingers and Georg closed his eyes, pushing his hips up into it, feeling the stretch and the slight burn of Tom's gentle slide inside him, opening him up. He’d thought this would hurt more, he’d thought it was supposed to be something horrible, but as the fingers inside of him went deeper and moved just right, Georg couldn’t help but moan out his pleasure. Those fingers had touched something in there. He didn’t know what it was and he really didn’t care what it was, so long as Tom did that again.

He grunted and thrust his hips hard, wanting more, wanting that hint of the explosion that could come from this. He almost didn’t care how needy he was acting.

“Ah, hit something good, huh?” Tom teased from between his legs as Bill dismounted from his chest. Tom was smirking up at him, his eyes just as dark as Bill’s had been. He was on his knees and bent over in a position that couldn’t have felt good to his back or any other place, really, but Georg could see that his cock was hard and leaking between his legs, even so. He eyed it, knowing where it was going—actually hoping that’s where it was going, and he let his head fall back on the bed, his eyes screwing shut as his own cock twitched and tapped against his belly with a wet smack.

He groaned, almost painfully, wanting it but not wanting to ask for it. His fingers gripped the comforter as Tom twisted his fingers inside him and he couldn’t hold back. He needed this and he needed it now.

“Please…” he gritted, his teeth clenched, his thighs trembling. He felt himself starting to sweat, cool beads popping up on his forehead as he pushed his head further back into the pillow.

“You wanna fuck him?” Tom asked, and Georg tightened hard around his fingers. “Do you want your cock in him?”

And behind his eyes, Bill was spread out before him, Georg thrusting into his tight, wet heat, and it just about threw him over the edge. His mouth fell open, panting, and then Tom's fingers slowly slid out of him and Georg found himself whimpering for their return.

“Georg, switch with me,” Bill said, from where he sat on his knees at Georg's side. “Let me lie down.”

It took a moment to register what Bill had said, but then he sat up and rolled to the side, watching as Bill pulled the pillow from the headboard and propped it under his groin as he settled on his stomach. Bill was ass up on the bed and Georg stroked himself at the sight. The man was beautiful, provocative, and Georg wanted to be inside him so bad.

The room seemed to go still, every breath held, as Tom reached for Bill, lying there before him. Georg thought for a moment that Tom would prepare Bill, just as he’d prepared Georg, but Tom’s hand stopped short. His fingers stopped, hovering mere millimeters above Bill’s flesh, trembling as hard as Bill’s voice as he watched over his shoulder.

“Tom,” he sighed, and Tom jerked his head up to meet Bill’s eyes. Something passed between them, then, something Georg wasn’t privy to, but before he could think more of it, Tom said his name roughly, holding out the bottle of lube.

“You need to get him ready. Just like it did for you, okay?” Tom handed him the bottle and Georg took it, nervously. “Hey,” he said. “Just be careful. Don’t hurt him. Be…” Tom swallowed and clamped his lips shut, moving to Bill’s hip and letting Georg between his legs.

Georg was good at following directions; it’s one thing that working a menial job makes you good at. He could make a pizza to order, he could bring along all the extras the customer wanted, and he could certainly put his fingers in this beautiful man and get him ready for his dick.

Bill was tighter than he expected, though he hadn’t really known what to expect. Hotter, too. It was like an inferno in there, hotter even than sticking his fingers in a girl, though he hadn’t actually done so much of that, either. Now, as he worked one finger, then two, then three carefully in and out of Bill’s body, his hole stretching around them so nicely, he thought about how it would feel to get his cock in there and found himself a little light-headed from lack of oxygen to the brain.

“Ready?” Tom asked softly, leaning into Bill and pushing his own hardness against the cheek of his butt, kissing his way across his shoulder. Bill nodded and Georg just had time to pull his fingers from him as Bill turned over, mashing his lips to Tom's, his hands fluttering across Tom's flushed skin, the whine from the back of his throat audible even to Georg. They kissed there in front of him, Tom stroking himself firmly until he stopped with a groan and sat back on his haunches. He grabbed the condom packets that Georg hadn’t seen lying at the corner of the bed and tossed one to him, with the instructions to put it on and slick it up, gesturing to the bottle of lube.

Georg ripped the packet open on the first try, which he considered a near miracle, since his hands were visibly shaking with nerves and anticipation. Once he’d smoothed the condom over his cock and stroked a thick layer of lube over it, he nudged Bill’s knees up further and kneeled between them.

He paused there, his cock resting right at Bill’s entrance as Bill watched him with black eyes and red, swollen lips. “I don’t…” He looked back at Tom, suddenly very unsure. “I’ve never done it this way before. I mean,” he continued, his face burning, “with a guy.”

Tom raised a brow, looking so much like Bill that Georg's stomach leapt. “You just have to start slow. You…” Tom's eyes flicked down to Bill, lying spread open, glistening, waiting, and his tongue stole from his mouth and licked at his bottom lip before he met Georg's eyes again. “You want some help?”

Georg looked down at the sweet, pink pucker that waited for him. He didn’t know these guys, he didn’t know Bill from anyone, and Bill should be ready now, but he didn’t know that, and he would never want to hurt him. It seemed like a pussy thing to do, have some guy have to help you fuck another one, but Georg didn’t think he cared. He wanted in there, but he wanted to do it right.

“Yeah,” Georg breathed, bracing himself over Bill again.

Bill clenched his eyes closed and he licked his lips, letting them fall open to pant, “Do it, Tom. Put him in me.”

Tom moved next to Georg without another word. He took Georg's cock in hand, stroking it a few times, and although he knew it was coming, Georg grunted at the contact. Then Tom nudged his hips forward and, still holding tightly to Georg's cock, he pushed the head against Bill’s entrance.

Georg could feel the heat of it radiating against him, hotter than the strong hand that held him and stroked him, and Georg knew before he even got in Bill that this couldn’t last long. But, he thought, he was going to enjoy the hell out of this before he did.

Tom nudged him forward and Georg sank himself slowly inside Bill, just a little bit at a time, watching as Tom's fingers caressed the junction where they met, stroking around Bill’s stretching skin. The gesture was so gentle, so tender, and Georg could feel so much want coming from Tom that he had to look away. He could see Tom in the position Georg was in now, poised over Bill, sinking into him slowly, and he thought for a short moment that he shouldn’t be here. This place, this moment, shouldn’t belong to him.

But then he was all the way inside Bill, the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock brushing against the trembling skin beneath him. Bill clenched and loosened around him, adjusting to his girth, and it was everything Georg could do to suck in enough air to live and let it out on a shuddering breath. After a long moment, Bill whined beneath him and lifted up, grinding up on him and Georg pushed into him on instinct. Bill grunted softly with the movement and hoarsely whispered for more, but Tom laid a stilling hand on Georg's arm. He leaned down by Bill’s cheek and whispered something so softly that Georg couldn’t hear it.

Georg could see Bill’s eyes flutter open, solemnly meeting Tom’s on a nod. His arms were starting to ache from holding himself up and he wanted to move, especially when they kissed, flashes of tongue slicking wetly between their lips as they connected again and again. Especially when Bill pushed up into him, opening needily around him as Tom's tongue plunged into his mouth.

Georg dropped his head, then, closing his eyes and letting his hair trail over Bill’s skin. They were obviously in love; he could see it in every hot look they gave each other, in every gentle touch. He didn’t even know what he was doing here, and he started to soften with a heaviness in his gut that felt a lot like guilt.

“Tomi,” Bill breathed, as he pushed desperately into Georg's cock. “C’mon. Do it.”

Georg felt them break apart before Tom shuffled down the bed on his knees, moving behind him. He should have known it was coming, but he still flinched at the soft touch of Tom's fingers against the cleft of his ass. Just a couple tips breached him again and Georg could feel Tom's dick prod wetly at the space between his stretched hole and his balls.

“You ready? Can you take this?” Tom asked, and Georg heard another foil packet being ripped open before the plastic snap of the lube cap.

Georg would have loved to say he took a moment to consider, but it would have been a lie. No matter what he’d thought his sexuality was before this little encounter, he could definitely say it was much more fluid now. Or maybe it was just because his need to get off had worked its way to monumental, and if Tom's fingers had felt that good in there before, Georg could barely breathe, thinking about how Tom's cock would feel. So instead of thinking, he answered quickly, his voice too loud in the quiet of the bedroom.

“Yeah. Fuck, just…” he pushed himself up, shoving harder into Bill with the movement as he tried to spread his legs for Tom. “Yeah, put it in me.”

As with Tom's fingers before, the burn wasn’t what he thought it would be. So yeah, Tom's dick was harder, bigger around, but Tom knew what he was doing and Georg knew what to expect. He breathed out and willed himself open, no matter the squeezing that was going on around his dick. If he could get Tom in, then he could move, and with just the slide of Tom's cock inside him, grazing over that spot that made his thighs tremble, he knew that it would be worth it to hold still for just a minute. Just hold still.

And then Tom was in him, fully seated, holding himself up with one arm on the bed and tightly grasping Georg's hip with the other as he slowly started to move. Georg couldn’t even think about stopping the groan that escaped his throat and he dropped his forehead to the side of Bill’s neck, his teeth scraping at one sharp collar bone as Tom thrust into him. He felt so good in there, filling Georg up like he never knew he wanted to be filled, and starting a momentum that carried Georg forward, making him push deep into Bill all at once.

Bill tightened beneath him, grinding up to meet each thrust, keening and frantic, and within moments, that spark of pleasure below Georg's balls was back. His belly tightened as he passed on the hard thrust he’d been given, Bill’s fingers clutching at his arms, fingernails digging in and doubtlessly leaving little crescent dents there as his black, heavy-lidded gaze lingered over Georg’s shoulder.

Georg didn’t know how, but they managed to fall into a rhythm, flesh slapping against eager flesh, damp with sweat and precome, and Georg couldn’t even bother with trying to make it last anymore. Tom thrust into him like a piston, slamming into him like the man meant business, and Georg, in turn, fucked Bill with short, hard strokes. Bill was so tight around him, squeezing him so good that it would have taken Georg's breath away, if his breath wasn’t already coming hard and fast, moist against Bill’s chest.

He wanted to come—no, fuck that—he needed to come, and he wanted to do it inside Bill’s hot hole. He wanted to come with Bill sprawled beneath him and Tom shoving his cock deep inside of him and that was all he could think, all he could see behind his eyelids as he drove deep into Bill’s body.

And then Bill cried out, his whimpers solidifying and lengthening until he screamed out his pleasure in one, long moan with only one name on it. “Tom,” Bill wailed and squeezed Georg harder than he recalled ever being squeezed before. The slick and tender flesh around his cock pulsated, spasming as Bill came, hot between his belly and Georg's. The beginning of Georg's orgasm flashed through him, electric tendrils of pleasure shooting through his veins, and he lifted up as his hips stuttered.

He lifted up, wanting to see Bill’s face, wanting to see the ecstasy in his eyes, the ecstasy that Georg was giving him, because while Bill was beautiful, Georg knew he’d be even more breathtaking in the throes of orgasm. And as his eyes flicked over Bill’s face, over Bill’s lips, plump and wet and open, over Bill’s eyes, intently focused over Georg's shoulder as he spasmed around the cock inside him, Tom thrust into him, deep and hard and his hand snaked around Georg's neck. He came inside him with a shout, his palm cupping Bill’s face, his blunt thumb sucked wetly between Bill’s lips as Bill watched him with needy, wanting eyes, and Georg lost it.

He gritted his teeth, his eyes squeezing closed as he grabbed Bill’s hips and drove himself into him harder, his orgasm so intense that his legs straightened, his ass clenched and pulsed and Tom grunted over him, his thrusts slowing to a stop.

They lay there for a moment, tangled and sweaty, until Bill pushed at Georg's shoulders in protest.

“Heavy,” was all he said, and Georg agreed, Tom stuck to his back as he was. They disentangled, Georg moving to one side of Bill, Tom moving to the other, and he settled on his back, trying to remember how to breathe, trying to remember when he’d done anything that felt so good. Getting paid to have sex that good seemed like highway robbery.

He twisted his lips as he thought about getting paid. That was what they meant, he was sure, but he didn’t really know how to bring it up. Now seemed like the wrong moment, but when would be the right one? He casted his eyes to the side, opening his mouth to just fucking ask already, when he caught his bottom lip in his teeth.

Bill was cuddled into Tom's side, his face buried in his neck, his shoulders quaking with tiny sobs as Tom petted his hair and dropped tiny kisses on his forehead. Tom's eyes met his as Georg leaned up on his elbow, concerned.

“Is he--?” He started, just wanting to know if Bill was okay. Had he hurt him? Did he do something wrong? His stomach started to feel sick until Tom shook his head minutely.

“He’ll be fine. It’s okay.”

Georg searched his face for any sign of deception and found none. He found weariness and a lingering sort of sadness around damp, brown eyes, and he nodded shortly. Sitting up, he removed the used condom and wrapped it in a tissue from the box by the bed.

“I’m just gonna go,” he said, gathering up his clothes and throwing them on as quickly as he could manage with trembling, fumbling fingers. Whatever was going on here, whatever thing these two had going, Georg thought it would be better to just let them be. Tom would take care of Bill, he had no doubt.

He slipped on his last shoe, and as he reached the door, Tom called his name from the bed. Georg looked back, waiting as his fingers closed tightly around the door handle.

“Thank you,” Tom said, his voice not much more than a harsh whisper. Georg nodded, before Tom added, “Check the desk before you leave.”

He nodded again, and was out the door, closing it softly behind him. He walked carefully down the steps, his muscles sore and his ass tender, and when he made it to the desk he’d seen Tom at, he sat gingerly in front of it.

There, on the polished wood surface, was an envelope with ‘Pizza Boy’ scrawled across the front. He picked it up and slid his finger under the flap, tearing it open.

His breath caught at the dollar amount of the check inside, numbers and letters written in the same heavy hand as on the front of the envelope. It was enough money to get his car fixed, for sure, and definitely enough to have some left over to play with. The check wasn’t made out to anyone, that field having been left blank, but it was signed by ‘Tom Kaulitz’.

Georg read the two names in the upper left-hand corner. Tom Kaulitz or Bill Kaulitz.

Same last name, joint checking account.

He frowned and his head tilted as he stared at the slip of paper between his fingers. Gay marriage wasn’t legal in this state. How could they have the same last name and a joint account?

And it was then that he looked up, then that his eyes fell on the collection of knick knacks and picture frames displayed neatly on the back of the desk. Then that he noticed one, small picture that answered as many questions as it spawned.

It was a picture of a young woman, her hair vibrant red, curls blowing in the breeze. It was a picture of two boys holding her hands, dressed up as if they were on their way to their first day of school. Two identical boys, wearing sweatshirts identical in color, identical in every way, except for the names embroidered onto them.

Bill and Tom. Identical.

He tossed the check on the desk, his breath whooshing out of him as Georg numbly sat back in the chair with a thump. They were twins. He’d just…with twins…

Twins who had kissed like lovers. Twins who had each called the other’s name in their passion. Twins in love with each other.

And then he understood. His chest ached with the heaviness of the realization of who they were to each other and what he’d been to them.

He looked again at the check on the desk and suddenly it felt wrong. It felt wrong to have this; this money they’d paid him in order to really feel each other, to be inside each other and yet not at all. Yes, he could fix his car with it; yes, he could buy beer with it, but it felt wrong to take it.

Georg poked a finger at the check, twirling it around on the smooth desk, before plucking it up with a sigh. He closed his eyes tightly, and before he could change his mind, quickly ripped the check into tiny pieces before letting them flutter to the wood below.

He grabbed a pen from the center drawer and scribbled his name on the envelope he’d tossed aside. Below it, he wrote his phone number and two words.

No charge

*****

Georg pumped the pedal twice more, hoping he’d finally given the damn car enough gas to start without flooding the engine. Muttering prayers and curses under his breath, he turned the key and pumped his fist as the engine turned over, coughing to life.

Looking at the list of delivery addresses for this run, he mentally mapped out his route, trying to figure out how to make the run in the shortest time possible. He didn’t need to get his ass chewed again for delivering late, but he thought he could do these with time to spare, and since that last address was closest to the store, he’d hit that one last.

Then he paused, his eyes narrowing as he read off that last address again.

It had been a month since he’d seen it; a month since his visit. He’d left his phone number but no one had called.

He quickly pulled out his phone, catching the antennae of the cheap model on the edge of his pocket. When he flipped it open, the screen stayed black, and Georg rolled his eyes. The damn thing had died.

Rooting around on the passenger side floor, he came up with the charger cord and once it was connected, he thumbed the power button. He tapped his fingers impatiently on his knee, waiting while it cycled on, just to still them and suck in a breath. He had a missed call.

Georg glanced back to the delivery list on his lap, his fingernail settling under the last number listed. The same number that had called him.

After a month, the twins had called him.

He blew out a breath, swallowed hard, and with his stomach in this throat, Georg pushed ‘send’.