It Happens to Everyone, R, Tom/Bill
May. 5th, 2009 12:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
steins_storiesTitle: It Happens to Everyone
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
steinsgrrl
Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Pairing: Tom/Bill
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I in no way intend to insinuate that any of the below actually happened. It is simply a piece of written entertainment based on the public personas of real people.
Rating: R
Warnings: twincest
Summary: Tom has a little problem. How the hell is he going to tell Bill?
Author's Note: Of the series: Through the Years
The first thing Tom knew that morning was the feel of Bill’s hand on his thigh, his fingertips moving in light, slow circles.
The second thing Tom knew was that Bill was cuddled up against his side, his brother’s head on his shoulder, warm breath ghosting across his nipple.
The third thing tom knew was that his belly swirled and he wanted so much to twist to the side so that Bill would just take hold of his dick.
And then Bill did. His fingers skimmed over Tom’s skin, taut around his groin, and wrapped around Tom’s cock. They felt so good on him, all over him, and Tom’s breath sped up.
The next thing Tom knew was that his dick was not hard, and several moments of Bill’s extremely experienced, fondling fingers did not make it any harder.
Nausea built up in his stomach before he could even contemplate what this all meant, because he didn‘t have to think about it. He already knew what this meant. He knew this could happen to guys his age, and now it was his turn. It had been happening more and more, but now Bill was touching him and his belly just ached with realization.
He blinked his eyes open and turned to face toward the wall, toward the window the let the bright morning light into their room.
He was impotent.
Tom winced and covered Bill’s hand with his own, halting its movements and bringing it up to his lips. He kissed his brother’s palm before kissing the top of his head and scooting out from beneath him.
“Sorry, bathroom.” He grunted, shivering as the cold air hit the parts of his body that had been under the covers and so very warm.
As he sat down on the toilet, he groaned inwardly. He never thought this would happen to him. Never in all the time they were in the band, never since. Hell, he’d been able to grab a groupie whenever he wanted and fuck her senseless for five, maybe six hours if he chose. Then when he and Bill had finally wised the hell up and figured out what they meant to each other, Tom had spent endless hours hard and dripping, experimenting with Bill.
In the forty-plus years they had been together, he never considered that this might happen to him.
Tom was confused, and if he was being honest with himself, he was rather pissed off.
~~~
“Bill, what happened to the eggs? They don’t taste right.” Tom poked at the scrambled eggs on his plate with his fork, his brows furrowed.
Bill turned off the burner and brought his plate of eggs and sausage to the table.
“Nothing happened to them. I thought I would try a little garlic on them. I saw it on one of those cooking shows on the-”
“I liked the way you made eggs before, I didn’t want anything different. Why’d you want to go changing something that was already good?” Tom grabbed the toast from his plate and pushed the rest away from him, sliding the plate into the middle of the table.
Bill looked at his brother and cocked his head, not speaking for several moments.
“I’m sorry, I thought I’d try something new.” He slid a forkful of fluffy eggs into his mouth, chewing slowly and swallowing before continuing. “If you don’t like them, I’m sure Alex would be happy to have them.”
“I’m sure he would.” Tom replied, a pout in his voice. He whistled shrilly and Alex came running to the table, sitting down quickly next to Tom when he got there.
“You’re actually gonna feed the eggs to the dog?” Bill squinted at his brother.
“Yes, I’m gonna feed it to the dog. I certainly can’t eat it.” Tom snorted and put the plate on the floor in front of the dog, who snuffled right into the food and started to gobble it up quickly, as if afraid his human would change his mind.
Bill looked down at his own plate for a moment before shrugging.
“Okay.” He took another bite of egg and washed it down with a long drink of milk.
“Fine.” Tom got up and pushed his chair close to the table.
“Good.” Bill reached for the newspaper that lay folded on the other side of the table.
Tom huffed at getting no good reaction from his twin and went to go find something on television. He’d been watching a lot of old reruns of “Scrubs” lately. They made him think of when he and Bill and the band were on tour and they took the box sets with them to watch on the bus.
They’d had lots of good times on that bus, rolling all over Europe. Sometimes it had been cramped and it sucked living so close to everyone, but just when he’d thought he couldn’t take it any more, something would happen that would make it all worthwhile. And who would have guessed that you could fit two skinny, horny teenaged boys in one bunk?
Tom lowered himself carefully into his easy chair, hanging onto the arm so he wouldn‘t fall down too quickly. He smirked to himself as he thought about the bus. Oh yes, Tom knew all too well how two teenaged boys would fit in one bunk, and all the things they could do in there. There was this one time when the concert had just gotten over, the G’s had gone to their own bus and Bill decided to climb in with Tom. It was cold on the bus that night, the heater having gone out, and Tom was wrapped in multiple blankets, so many blankets that there was hardly room for them, and Tom and Bill, all squished together in that tiny space.
But oh, the things Bill could do with his mouth, and how eager he was when they were first exploring each other, had made Tom throw those blankets right out of the bunk and onto the galley below. Bill had hovered over him, and …
Tom felt a stirring in his loins, a licking of fire up his insides at the memory of Bill and his mouth and his…
Tom was breathing heavier, his heart was beating faster, and he wanted so much for Bill to come sink to his knees in front of him now. He wanted Bill to make him feel like they felt all those many years ago.
He rubbed his palm over his cock, just wanting to feel it, just aching to feel a little more of that sharp need that he felt when he thought of Bill.
What met his palm, though, was flaccid penis covered by faded denims.
Tom growled and pushed harder, finally wrapping his own fingers around himself, as best as he could, still in his jeans. Nothing. It felt good, but it wouldn’t make him hard and it wouldn’t make him come.
His fucking dick was broken.
Tom swore and threw the remote at the couch. The cat boinged from where she’d been sprawled across the back of the couch and dashed, all claws and flying fur, into the kitchen, far away from Tom.
~~~
There was no way Tom could concentrate on “Scrubs” today, but he also knew he couldn’t just sit and think about his broken dick all day. First, he was terrified of his dick never getting hard again, and second, he couldn’t fathom how he was going to tell Bill. Just picturing the look on Bill’s face made Tom’s stomach drop.
He had to find a way to occupy himself.
Tom realized he hadn’t played his guitar in a while, and once he thought of having that sleek wood beneath his fingers, the sharp strings pressing into the calluses that had never left his fingertips, his hands began to itch to hold the instrument again, to strum the chords and pick out a beautiful melody. Yeah, maybe that would calm his nerves.
A lovely, mahogany acoustic sat propped in the corner of their bedroom, a little dust gathered on the top. Tom didn’t play nearly as much as he did when he was younger; holding the pick and strumming for too long aggravated his arthritis. He would come away from the guitar, hissing at the way his swollen knuckles ached until Bill clucked his tongue at him and sat down with him on the couch to massage the pain away.
Tom needed this right now, though, and he picked the instrument up, throwing the strap over his shoulder and loving the way it bumped against his hip as it had year after year.
He looked in the little cup on top of his dresser for his pick. Nope, no pick there. He looked inside the bedside table, thinking maybe he’d thrown one into the drawer. Nope, no pick there, either. Finally, he looked on top of Bill’s dresser and then on the floor around his. Nothing. Nothing out of place, no pick, nothing.
“Bill!” Tom pulled the strap back over his head and lay the guitar on their bed.
“Bill!” He yelled again, making his way to the art room.
He found Bill standing before his easel, bright red paint splashed thickly across what had been a pristine white canvas. His brush full of paint, Bill was applying none of it at the moment.
Instead, Bill’s ass was shaking and twitching in what passed for dancing, according to Bill. His brother wailed out a chorus, a little off key, but otherwise damn good. Except Tom wasn’t interested in hearing Bill sing at the moment.
He grabbed the back of his brother’s shirt and tugged sharply.
Bill spun around, his eyes wide with surprise, and yanked the ipod earbuds out of his ears.
“Tom! You scared the hell out of me.” The tension left Bill’s body and his spine sagged as he released a deep breath. He turned to wipe the paintbrush on the rag he’d draped over a bar on the easel.
“Where are my picks?” Tom ground out.
“Your picks?” Bill pursed his lips, his face taking on a look of complete innocence and confusion.
“Yes, Bill, my picks. Where are my picks?” Tom switched tactics now and was so saccharine sweet that Bill finally picked up that Tom was being an ass. It’s not something he normally expected from his brother.
“I have no idea where your picks are.” Bill wiped his hands on another towel. “Your. Picks. Not mine. So I don’t know.”
“That’s really fucking great. When I want to play, I can’t even play because I can’t find my damn picks. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?” Tom ranted, gesturing broadly with his hands, his lips in a sneer.
“You know what I think?” Bill whispered, and Tom whipped his head around to stare at his brother.
“What?”
“I think you need to call Georg and get out of here for a while.” Tom could tell Bill was trying to be kind, but he could also tell that Bill was pissed off.
And Tom deserved it, he really did. Bill didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that; he hadn’t done anything wrong. But Tom couldn’t bring himself to apologize.
Bill’s proposal seemed like a damn good idea, and he stalked out of the art room to find his cell phone.
~~~
“You what? You can’t get it up?” His eyes wide, Georg grinned stupidly at Tom. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not kidding you, idiot. Wanna say it a little louder?” Tom shielded the side of his face with his hand and turned his head away from the rest of the pub, his cheeks going ruddy with embarrassment.
They liked to meet down here because the pub was relatively quiet; the clientele were pretty much regulars and there were never any fights to speak of. That, and the bartender was hot. Blonde chick, neckline cut down to there, skirt cut up to here, and the guys didn’t mind doing a little ogling while they sipped.
“God, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to-” Georg took a quick sip of his beer.
“I told you because I thought you might have an idea what the hell is wrong.” Tom grabbed then handle of his mug and sucked down half the beer sloshing inside before slamming it back down on the table. “If you don’t, then forget I ever said anything.”
Georg laughed, his eyes crinkling hard.
“Oh no, that could definitely be blackmail material, right there.” He gasped, holding his sides. “You know I can’t pass that up!”
Tom kicked his friend under the table. Their relationship never changed, and it’s one of the things Tom cherishes most in this world. Georg is also one of the only men that can rile him up so quickly.
Georg reached under the table to rub his wounded knee, and grimaced at Tom.
“Fine, fine. I heard that erectile dysfunction can come from heart issues. You know, you can’t get the blood there, you can’t get hard.”
“Anatomy lesson 101? Yeah, I think I got that part, Georg.”
“Whatever. I think you should pay a little visit to your family quack.” Satisfied that his knee wound wasn‘t fatal, Georg grabbed a peanut out of the bowl on the table and shucked the shell.
“You think I should see the doctor for my broken dick. Are you serious?” Tom snorted and took another healthy gulp of beer, draining the dregs and grimacing at the flat, bitter ale. “You think I should pull it out for some guy I don’t even know?”
“Your doctor, Tom, not just ‘some guy’.” Georg threw a peanut shell and it landed in Tom’s empty mug. “Besides, maybe it’s important, you know? Maybe this is the first sign of something bad.”
That brought Tom up short. He hadn’t thought of that. What if this was a sign of something much worse? What if he was sick? What if it really was his heart?
Suddenly, having a saggy dick didn’t seem like the biggest problem in the world.
Tom stood quickly, knocking his mug over in the process and scattering peanut shells across the table.
“I gotta go.” He held his hand out for Georg to shake, but Georg smiled and pulled him into a tight hug.
“Let me know.” Georg’s voice was quiet and serious in his ear.
“I will. I gotta talk to Bill.” Tom grasped Georg’s shoulders and squeezed.
~~~
The house was quiet when Tom got home, and all the lights were off but the little hood light over the stove. Alex greeted him at the door, his tail wagging and his feet tapping on the linoleum.
“Hey, Alex.” Tom cooed at the pup. “Where’s Daddy?”
Alex bounced on his back feet, pawing at the air with his front feet. Tom reached down to scratch Alex’s ears and the pup finally sat at Tom’s feet.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Tom toed his shoes off and hung up his jacket, and Alex followed him into the kitchen. Bill had cleaned, probably out of irritation with Tom’s attitude, and the kitchen was spotless. Tom filled a glass with water to take his vitamin, and gulped the whole thing down in one long drink before putting the glass in the dishwasher.
Josie rushed up the stairs before him, barely avoiding Tom’s feet as she raced to the top step. Tom had long since stopped tripping over Bill’s damn cat but he held tightly to the railing, just in case.
As Tom entered the bedroom, he realized that talking to Bill about his problem was going to have to wait until morning. The lights were off and Bill was snuggled down into the comforter. He had one pillow under his head, and he’d pulled Tom’s pillow to his chest and was hugging it to him.
Tom slipped out of his clothes and tossed them into the hamper before climbing carefully onto the bed. Bill looked so peaceful, and after the crap Tom had given him today, he certainly didn’t want to disturb his brother’s rest.
He did, however, want his pillow. He grasped a corner and tugged on it a little until Bill finally grunted and let go, pulling his arms into his chest and tipping his head back. Tucking his pillow under his head, Tom lay facing Bill. The light spilled over their bed from the street lamp outside, and normally would have annoyed Tom. Bill had asked him time and again to fix the shades because Bill had only succeeded in mangling them further when he’d tried. However, come morning, Tom would always forget.
Tonight, Tom was glad he’d forgotten. The light fell across Bill’s face, and Tom watched his lover as he slept. He would never get over how beautiful Bill was and he could stare at his brother for hours. Tom watched as Bill’s eyes moved under blue eyelids, darkened by stress, maybe, and he felt a pang of guilt. Why would he think Bill wouldn’t know something was wrong? They knew everything about each other; they knew what the other was feeling. But if Bill knew, why hadn’t he said anything?
Tom sighed and gently touched his knuckles to Bill’s cheek, rubbing them softly across the thin skin there. His fingers grazed over a rough spot, and when he leaned over to have a look, he could only smile.
Bill had gone to bed with a smattering of red paint across his cheek.
~~~
“Hey.” Tom looked down at the slim arms that had just wound around his waist and felt his brother’s cheek pressed against his shoulder blade. He stopped whipping the eggs for their omelets and closed his eyes, letting himself relax into Bill’s hold.
“Hey,” he replied quietly. It seemed early to be too loud, even if it was half past twelve. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thanks.” Bill’s warm breath puffed against his shoulder as his brother dropped a kiss there before skimming his hands up and down Tom’s bare torso and pulling away to get himself some coffee.
Tom resumed whipping the eggs, his stomach churning as he considered his next words.
“Bill?”
“Hm?” Tom glanced behind him to see Bill adding spoonfuls of sugar to his coffee. The dark circles were still there, blue around Bill’s eyes, and Tom wished he didn’t have to have this conversation with his brother.
“I think we need to talk.” Bill stopped stirring his coffee, his fingers gripping the spoon tight enough to turn his fingertips white. Still looking down into the cup, he paused before answering softly.
“You know that no good conversation starts off with ‘We need to talk’.” He looked at Tom with wide eyes, his voice shaky. “What’s going on?”
Tom abandoned the egg bowl on the counter and pulled Bill to him, wrapping his arms around his brother’s shoulders.
“I knew I’d do this wrong.” He smoothed his palm down the back of Bill’s head and brought it down to his shoulder. “Look, it’s not that big of a deal anyway.”
Bill’s breath puffed moist onto his neck, and Tom knew Bill wasn’t buying it.
“If it isn’t a big deal, why this? And why have you been so crabby with me?” Bill pressed his forehead against Tom’s shoulder and whispered, “You haven’t even wanted to be with me lately.”
“God, Bill.” Tom breathed and pulled back to look at Bill. His brother’s face was flushed and he refused to meet Tom’s eyes. “I want to. Don’t you know I want to?”
Bill shook his head, and Tom thought his heart would break at the confusion and fear on his lover’s face.
“That’s what this is about. I want to but I can’t. No matter how hard I try, I can’t.” Bill’s eyes flew up to Tom’s.
“What? Why?”
It was Tom’s turn to look embarrassed. His face went crimson and he had to look away from Bill’s searching gaze.
“Um, well. My…um.” Tom stammered, and it only made him more self-conscious. He decided he had to just say it, just get it out.
“Bill, my dick won’t get hard.” Tom nearly moaned with the confession, and he tried to pull away from Bill, terrified to look at him and see the disappointment that must be in Bill’s eyes.
“What?” Bill pulled Tom back to him, his voice was thick with concern. “What do you mean, your dick won’t get hard?”
Tom finally met Bill’s eyes, and his stomach clenched. It wasn’t disappointment he found there, but worry, and somehow that was worse.
“I don’t know, it just won’t get hard, no matter what I do. Georg said it might be a heart problem.” He cringed as Bill’s expression went from worry to fear. This was turning out exactly as wrong as he’d been afraid it might.
“Have you called the doctor? Made an appointment?” Bill’s words were tense and quick.
“No. I haven’t had a chance, I wanted to talk to you first.” Tom reached forward to tuck Bill’s hair behind his ear, but his hand met with empty space. Bill had pulled quickly out of his arms and was nearly out of the kitchen. “Where are you going?”
Bill tossed his answer over his shoulder on his way out.
“I’m calling our doctor. Now.”
Tom braced his hands on the counter and let out a long breath.
~~~
Bill whimpered one last time and collapsed onto Tom’s chest, trapping sweat and come between them. Tom wanted to hold on, wanted to cuddle Bill but he didn’t think he had enough energy to even put his arms around his brother. He lay sprawled beneath him, a contented smile on his face, one that he didn’t think would leave his face any time soon.
Bill nuzzled into his neck, humming in delight. Tom wasn’t expecting the tickle there and it took everything he had not to giggle like a little girl. He nudged Bill with his chin.
“Been a long time since you were on top like that.” He rubbed his lips against Bill‘s hair, as beautiful silver as it ever had been black, and kissed his head. “How’re your knees?”
“It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to have me on top like that.” Bill bit softly on Tom’s shoulder, scraping his teeth across tender flesh. “And my knees are fine. I think.”
Bill sat up and lifted his leg to climb off Tom, but he only got it up a few centimeters before he grimaced and let it fall back where it was before.
“Maybe in a minute.” Bill sighed.
“Not as fine as you thought, huh?” Tom chuckled sympathetically, stroking Bill’s thighs. He kneaded his fingers gently around Bill’s knees, hoping to relieve some of the pain. “I think I forgot to thank you for making that appointment with the doctor.”
“I don’t think I could take much more thanking, Tomi.“ Bill ducked his head and looked at Tom through long lashes. If Tom didn’t know better, he’d say Bill’s smile was the slightest bit bashful.
“I mean it, Bill.” He smiled at the pink glow on his brother’s cheeks and plucked Bill’s palm from his chest, wrapping long, slim fingers in his own. “I’m glad it wasn’t anything really serious-”
“As long as you take your medication and keep it under control, high blood pressure isn’t serious.” Bill frowned at him.
“Okay, as long as I take my medication, it’s not serious.” Tom kissed his brother’s knuckles. “But if you hadn’t made me go to the doctor, it might have been very serious.”
“But it’s okay now; you’re good, you’re healthy.“ Bill squirmed on top of him and Tom felt his cock begin to harden again. “Um, maybe a little too healthy. Help me down from here?”
“C’mere. Lie down and stretch your legs out.” Tom pulled him back down on his belly and Bill grunted. “What? It’s the same come you were laying on before.”
Bill gave him a look of disgust. “Yeah, but now it’s cold come. And sticky. It’s just…ugh.”
Tom looked at his brother for a moment, one eyebrow cocked. He shook his head and started to laugh, Bill bouncing up and down with his belly. The harder Tom laughed, the more Bill bounced, until Bill was laughing just as hard as Tom.
Bill forgot all about his sore knees.
And so long as Tom took his medication, he forgot all about his broken dick.
Author:
steinsgrrlFandom: Tokio Hotel
Pairing: Tom/Bill
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I in no way intend to insinuate that any of the below actually happened. It is simply a piece of written entertainment based on the public personas of real people.
Rating: R
Warnings: twincest
Summary: Tom has a little problem. How the hell is he going to tell Bill?
Author's Note: Of the series: Through the Years
The first thing Tom knew that morning was the feel of Bill’s hand on his thigh, his fingertips moving in light, slow circles.
The second thing Tom knew was that Bill was cuddled up against his side, his brother’s head on his shoulder, warm breath ghosting across his nipple.
The third thing tom knew was that his belly swirled and he wanted so much to twist to the side so that Bill would just take hold of his dick.
And then Bill did. His fingers skimmed over Tom’s skin, taut around his groin, and wrapped around Tom’s cock. They felt so good on him, all over him, and Tom’s breath sped up.
The next thing Tom knew was that his dick was not hard, and several moments of Bill’s extremely experienced, fondling fingers did not make it any harder.
Nausea built up in his stomach before he could even contemplate what this all meant, because he didn‘t have to think about it. He already knew what this meant. He knew this could happen to guys his age, and now it was his turn. It had been happening more and more, but now Bill was touching him and his belly just ached with realization.
He blinked his eyes open and turned to face toward the wall, toward the window the let the bright morning light into their room.
He was impotent.
Tom winced and covered Bill’s hand with his own, halting its movements and bringing it up to his lips. He kissed his brother’s palm before kissing the top of his head and scooting out from beneath him.
“Sorry, bathroom.” He grunted, shivering as the cold air hit the parts of his body that had been under the covers and so very warm.
As he sat down on the toilet, he groaned inwardly. He never thought this would happen to him. Never in all the time they were in the band, never since. Hell, he’d been able to grab a groupie whenever he wanted and fuck her senseless for five, maybe six hours if he chose. Then when he and Bill had finally wised the hell up and figured out what they meant to each other, Tom had spent endless hours hard and dripping, experimenting with Bill.
In the forty-plus years they had been together, he never considered that this might happen to him.
Tom was confused, and if he was being honest with himself, he was rather pissed off.
“Bill, what happened to the eggs? They don’t taste right.” Tom poked at the scrambled eggs on his plate with his fork, his brows furrowed.
Bill turned off the burner and brought his plate of eggs and sausage to the table.
“Nothing happened to them. I thought I would try a little garlic on them. I saw it on one of those cooking shows on the-”
“I liked the way you made eggs before, I didn’t want anything different. Why’d you want to go changing something that was already good?” Tom grabbed the toast from his plate and pushed the rest away from him, sliding the plate into the middle of the table.
Bill looked at his brother and cocked his head, not speaking for several moments.
“I’m sorry, I thought I’d try something new.” He slid a forkful of fluffy eggs into his mouth, chewing slowly and swallowing before continuing. “If you don’t like them, I’m sure Alex would be happy to have them.”
“I’m sure he would.” Tom replied, a pout in his voice. He whistled shrilly and Alex came running to the table, sitting down quickly next to Tom when he got there.
“You’re actually gonna feed the eggs to the dog?” Bill squinted at his brother.
“Yes, I’m gonna feed it to the dog. I certainly can’t eat it.” Tom snorted and put the plate on the floor in front of the dog, who snuffled right into the food and started to gobble it up quickly, as if afraid his human would change his mind.
Bill looked down at his own plate for a moment before shrugging.
“Okay.” He took another bite of egg and washed it down with a long drink of milk.
“Fine.” Tom got up and pushed his chair close to the table.
“Good.” Bill reached for the newspaper that lay folded on the other side of the table.
Tom huffed at getting no good reaction from his twin and went to go find something on television. He’d been watching a lot of old reruns of “Scrubs” lately. They made him think of when he and Bill and the band were on tour and they took the box sets with them to watch on the bus.
They’d had lots of good times on that bus, rolling all over Europe. Sometimes it had been cramped and it sucked living so close to everyone, but just when he’d thought he couldn’t take it any more, something would happen that would make it all worthwhile. And who would have guessed that you could fit two skinny, horny teenaged boys in one bunk?
Tom lowered himself carefully into his easy chair, hanging onto the arm so he wouldn‘t fall down too quickly. He smirked to himself as he thought about the bus. Oh yes, Tom knew all too well how two teenaged boys would fit in one bunk, and all the things they could do in there. There was this one time when the concert had just gotten over, the G’s had gone to their own bus and Bill decided to climb in with Tom. It was cold on the bus that night, the heater having gone out, and Tom was wrapped in multiple blankets, so many blankets that there was hardly room for them, and Tom and Bill, all squished together in that tiny space.
But oh, the things Bill could do with his mouth, and how eager he was when they were first exploring each other, had made Tom throw those blankets right out of the bunk and onto the galley below. Bill had hovered over him, and …
Tom felt a stirring in his loins, a licking of fire up his insides at the memory of Bill and his mouth and his…
Tom was breathing heavier, his heart was beating faster, and he wanted so much for Bill to come sink to his knees in front of him now. He wanted Bill to make him feel like they felt all those many years ago.
He rubbed his palm over his cock, just wanting to feel it, just aching to feel a little more of that sharp need that he felt when he thought of Bill.
What met his palm, though, was flaccid penis covered by faded denims.
Tom growled and pushed harder, finally wrapping his own fingers around himself, as best as he could, still in his jeans. Nothing. It felt good, but it wouldn’t make him hard and it wouldn’t make him come.
His fucking dick was broken.
Tom swore and threw the remote at the couch. The cat boinged from where she’d been sprawled across the back of the couch and dashed, all claws and flying fur, into the kitchen, far away from Tom.
There was no way Tom could concentrate on “Scrubs” today, but he also knew he couldn’t just sit and think about his broken dick all day. First, he was terrified of his dick never getting hard again, and second, he couldn’t fathom how he was going to tell Bill. Just picturing the look on Bill’s face made Tom’s stomach drop.
He had to find a way to occupy himself.
Tom realized he hadn’t played his guitar in a while, and once he thought of having that sleek wood beneath his fingers, the sharp strings pressing into the calluses that had never left his fingertips, his hands began to itch to hold the instrument again, to strum the chords and pick out a beautiful melody. Yeah, maybe that would calm his nerves.
A lovely, mahogany acoustic sat propped in the corner of their bedroom, a little dust gathered on the top. Tom didn’t play nearly as much as he did when he was younger; holding the pick and strumming for too long aggravated his arthritis. He would come away from the guitar, hissing at the way his swollen knuckles ached until Bill clucked his tongue at him and sat down with him on the couch to massage the pain away.
Tom needed this right now, though, and he picked the instrument up, throwing the strap over his shoulder and loving the way it bumped against his hip as it had year after year.
He looked in the little cup on top of his dresser for his pick. Nope, no pick there. He looked inside the bedside table, thinking maybe he’d thrown one into the drawer. Nope, no pick there, either. Finally, he looked on top of Bill’s dresser and then on the floor around his. Nothing. Nothing out of place, no pick, nothing.
“Bill!” Tom pulled the strap back over his head and lay the guitar on their bed.
“Bill!” He yelled again, making his way to the art room.
He found Bill standing before his easel, bright red paint splashed thickly across what had been a pristine white canvas. His brush full of paint, Bill was applying none of it at the moment.
Instead, Bill’s ass was shaking and twitching in what passed for dancing, according to Bill. His brother wailed out a chorus, a little off key, but otherwise damn good. Except Tom wasn’t interested in hearing Bill sing at the moment.
He grabbed the back of his brother’s shirt and tugged sharply.
Bill spun around, his eyes wide with surprise, and yanked the ipod earbuds out of his ears.
“Tom! You scared the hell out of me.” The tension left Bill’s body and his spine sagged as he released a deep breath. He turned to wipe the paintbrush on the rag he’d draped over a bar on the easel.
“Where are my picks?” Tom ground out.
“Your picks?” Bill pursed his lips, his face taking on a look of complete innocence and confusion.
“Yes, Bill, my picks. Where are my picks?” Tom switched tactics now and was so saccharine sweet that Bill finally picked up that Tom was being an ass. It’s not something he normally expected from his brother.
“I have no idea where your picks are.” Bill wiped his hands on another towel. “Your. Picks. Not mine. So I don’t know.”
“That’s really fucking great. When I want to play, I can’t even play because I can’t find my damn picks. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?” Tom ranted, gesturing broadly with his hands, his lips in a sneer.
“You know what I think?” Bill whispered, and Tom whipped his head around to stare at his brother.
“What?”
“I think you need to call Georg and get out of here for a while.” Tom could tell Bill was trying to be kind, but he could also tell that Bill was pissed off.
And Tom deserved it, he really did. Bill didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that; he hadn’t done anything wrong. But Tom couldn’t bring himself to apologize.
Bill’s proposal seemed like a damn good idea, and he stalked out of the art room to find his cell phone.
“You what? You can’t get it up?” His eyes wide, Georg grinned stupidly at Tom. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not kidding you, idiot. Wanna say it a little louder?” Tom shielded the side of his face with his hand and turned his head away from the rest of the pub, his cheeks going ruddy with embarrassment.
They liked to meet down here because the pub was relatively quiet; the clientele were pretty much regulars and there were never any fights to speak of. That, and the bartender was hot. Blonde chick, neckline cut down to there, skirt cut up to here, and the guys didn’t mind doing a little ogling while they sipped.
“God, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to-” Georg took a quick sip of his beer.
“I told you because I thought you might have an idea what the hell is wrong.” Tom grabbed then handle of his mug and sucked down half the beer sloshing inside before slamming it back down on the table. “If you don’t, then forget I ever said anything.”
Georg laughed, his eyes crinkling hard.
“Oh no, that could definitely be blackmail material, right there.” He gasped, holding his sides. “You know I can’t pass that up!”
Tom kicked his friend under the table. Their relationship never changed, and it’s one of the things Tom cherishes most in this world. Georg is also one of the only men that can rile him up so quickly.
Georg reached under the table to rub his wounded knee, and grimaced at Tom.
“Fine, fine. I heard that erectile dysfunction can come from heart issues. You know, you can’t get the blood there, you can’t get hard.”
“Anatomy lesson 101? Yeah, I think I got that part, Georg.”
“Whatever. I think you should pay a little visit to your family quack.” Satisfied that his knee wound wasn‘t fatal, Georg grabbed a peanut out of the bowl on the table and shucked the shell.
“You think I should see the doctor for my broken dick. Are you serious?” Tom snorted and took another healthy gulp of beer, draining the dregs and grimacing at the flat, bitter ale. “You think I should pull it out for some guy I don’t even know?”
“Your doctor, Tom, not just ‘some guy’.” Georg threw a peanut shell and it landed in Tom’s empty mug. “Besides, maybe it’s important, you know? Maybe this is the first sign of something bad.”
That brought Tom up short. He hadn’t thought of that. What if this was a sign of something much worse? What if he was sick? What if it really was his heart?
Suddenly, having a saggy dick didn’t seem like the biggest problem in the world.
Tom stood quickly, knocking his mug over in the process and scattering peanut shells across the table.
“I gotta go.” He held his hand out for Georg to shake, but Georg smiled and pulled him into a tight hug.
“Let me know.” Georg’s voice was quiet and serious in his ear.
“I will. I gotta talk to Bill.” Tom grasped Georg’s shoulders and squeezed.
The house was quiet when Tom got home, and all the lights were off but the little hood light over the stove. Alex greeted him at the door, his tail wagging and his feet tapping on the linoleum.
“Hey, Alex.” Tom cooed at the pup. “Where’s Daddy?”
Alex bounced on his back feet, pawing at the air with his front feet. Tom reached down to scratch Alex’s ears and the pup finally sat at Tom’s feet.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Tom toed his shoes off and hung up his jacket, and Alex followed him into the kitchen. Bill had cleaned, probably out of irritation with Tom’s attitude, and the kitchen was spotless. Tom filled a glass with water to take his vitamin, and gulped the whole thing down in one long drink before putting the glass in the dishwasher.
Josie rushed up the stairs before him, barely avoiding Tom’s feet as she raced to the top step. Tom had long since stopped tripping over Bill’s damn cat but he held tightly to the railing, just in case.
As Tom entered the bedroom, he realized that talking to Bill about his problem was going to have to wait until morning. The lights were off and Bill was snuggled down into the comforter. He had one pillow under his head, and he’d pulled Tom’s pillow to his chest and was hugging it to him.
Tom slipped out of his clothes and tossed them into the hamper before climbing carefully onto the bed. Bill looked so peaceful, and after the crap Tom had given him today, he certainly didn’t want to disturb his brother’s rest.
He did, however, want his pillow. He grasped a corner and tugged on it a little until Bill finally grunted and let go, pulling his arms into his chest and tipping his head back. Tucking his pillow under his head, Tom lay facing Bill. The light spilled over their bed from the street lamp outside, and normally would have annoyed Tom. Bill had asked him time and again to fix the shades because Bill had only succeeded in mangling them further when he’d tried. However, come morning, Tom would always forget.
Tonight, Tom was glad he’d forgotten. The light fell across Bill’s face, and Tom watched his lover as he slept. He would never get over how beautiful Bill was and he could stare at his brother for hours. Tom watched as Bill’s eyes moved under blue eyelids, darkened by stress, maybe, and he felt a pang of guilt. Why would he think Bill wouldn’t know something was wrong? They knew everything about each other; they knew what the other was feeling. But if Bill knew, why hadn’t he said anything?
Tom sighed and gently touched his knuckles to Bill’s cheek, rubbing them softly across the thin skin there. His fingers grazed over a rough spot, and when he leaned over to have a look, he could only smile.
Bill had gone to bed with a smattering of red paint across his cheek.
“Hey.” Tom looked down at the slim arms that had just wound around his waist and felt his brother’s cheek pressed against his shoulder blade. He stopped whipping the eggs for their omelets and closed his eyes, letting himself relax into Bill’s hold.
“Hey,” he replied quietly. It seemed early to be too loud, even if it was half past twelve. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thanks.” Bill’s warm breath puffed against his shoulder as his brother dropped a kiss there before skimming his hands up and down Tom’s bare torso and pulling away to get himself some coffee.
Tom resumed whipping the eggs, his stomach churning as he considered his next words.
“Bill?”
“Hm?” Tom glanced behind him to see Bill adding spoonfuls of sugar to his coffee. The dark circles were still there, blue around Bill’s eyes, and Tom wished he didn’t have to have this conversation with his brother.
“I think we need to talk.” Bill stopped stirring his coffee, his fingers gripping the spoon tight enough to turn his fingertips white. Still looking down into the cup, he paused before answering softly.
“You know that no good conversation starts off with ‘We need to talk’.” He looked at Tom with wide eyes, his voice shaky. “What’s going on?”
Tom abandoned the egg bowl on the counter and pulled Bill to him, wrapping his arms around his brother’s shoulders.
“I knew I’d do this wrong.” He smoothed his palm down the back of Bill’s head and brought it down to his shoulder. “Look, it’s not that big of a deal anyway.”
Bill’s breath puffed moist onto his neck, and Tom knew Bill wasn’t buying it.
“If it isn’t a big deal, why this? And why have you been so crabby with me?” Bill pressed his forehead against Tom’s shoulder and whispered, “You haven’t even wanted to be with me lately.”
“God, Bill.” Tom breathed and pulled back to look at Bill. His brother’s face was flushed and he refused to meet Tom’s eyes. “I want to. Don’t you know I want to?”
Bill shook his head, and Tom thought his heart would break at the confusion and fear on his lover’s face.
“That’s what this is about. I want to but I can’t. No matter how hard I try, I can’t.” Bill’s eyes flew up to Tom’s.
“What? Why?”
It was Tom’s turn to look embarrassed. His face went crimson and he had to look away from Bill’s searching gaze.
“Um, well. My…um.” Tom stammered, and it only made him more self-conscious. He decided he had to just say it, just get it out.
“Bill, my dick won’t get hard.” Tom nearly moaned with the confession, and he tried to pull away from Bill, terrified to look at him and see the disappointment that must be in Bill’s eyes.
“What?” Bill pulled Tom back to him, his voice was thick with concern. “What do you mean, your dick won’t get hard?”
Tom finally met Bill’s eyes, and his stomach clenched. It wasn’t disappointment he found there, but worry, and somehow that was worse.
“I don’t know, it just won’t get hard, no matter what I do. Georg said it might be a heart problem.” He cringed as Bill’s expression went from worry to fear. This was turning out exactly as wrong as he’d been afraid it might.
“Have you called the doctor? Made an appointment?” Bill’s words were tense and quick.
“No. I haven’t had a chance, I wanted to talk to you first.” Tom reached forward to tuck Bill’s hair behind his ear, but his hand met with empty space. Bill had pulled quickly out of his arms and was nearly out of the kitchen. “Where are you going?”
Bill tossed his answer over his shoulder on his way out.
“I’m calling our doctor. Now.”
Tom braced his hands on the counter and let out a long breath.
Bill whimpered one last time and collapsed onto Tom’s chest, trapping sweat and come between them. Tom wanted to hold on, wanted to cuddle Bill but he didn’t think he had enough energy to even put his arms around his brother. He lay sprawled beneath him, a contented smile on his face, one that he didn’t think would leave his face any time soon.
Bill nuzzled into his neck, humming in delight. Tom wasn’t expecting the tickle there and it took everything he had not to giggle like a little girl. He nudged Bill with his chin.
“Been a long time since you were on top like that.” He rubbed his lips against Bill‘s hair, as beautiful silver as it ever had been black, and kissed his head. “How’re your knees?”
“It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to have me on top like that.” Bill bit softly on Tom’s shoulder, scraping his teeth across tender flesh. “And my knees are fine. I think.”
Bill sat up and lifted his leg to climb off Tom, but he only got it up a few centimeters before he grimaced and let it fall back where it was before.
“Maybe in a minute.” Bill sighed.
“Not as fine as you thought, huh?” Tom chuckled sympathetically, stroking Bill’s thighs. He kneaded his fingers gently around Bill’s knees, hoping to relieve some of the pain. “I think I forgot to thank you for making that appointment with the doctor.”
“I don’t think I could take much more thanking, Tomi.“ Bill ducked his head and looked at Tom through long lashes. If Tom didn’t know better, he’d say Bill’s smile was the slightest bit bashful.
“I mean it, Bill.” He smiled at the pink glow on his brother’s cheeks and plucked Bill’s palm from his chest, wrapping long, slim fingers in his own. “I’m glad it wasn’t anything really serious-”
“As long as you take your medication and keep it under control, high blood pressure isn’t serious.” Bill frowned at him.
“Okay, as long as I take my medication, it’s not serious.” Tom kissed his brother’s knuckles. “But if you hadn’t made me go to the doctor, it might have been very serious.”
“But it’s okay now; you’re good, you’re healthy.“ Bill squirmed on top of him and Tom felt his cock begin to harden again. “Um, maybe a little too healthy. Help me down from here?”
“C’mere. Lie down and stretch your legs out.” Tom pulled him back down on his belly and Bill grunted. “What? It’s the same come you were laying on before.”
Bill gave him a look of disgust. “Yeah, but now it’s cold come. And sticky. It’s just…ugh.”
Tom looked at his brother for a moment, one eyebrow cocked. He shook his head and started to laugh, Bill bouncing up and down with his belly. The harder Tom laughed, the more Bill bounced, until Bill was laughing just as hard as Tom.
Bill forgot all about his sore knees.
And so long as Tom took his medication, he forgot all about his broken dick.
