Treat Me Right, NC17, Tom/Georg
May. 5th, 2009 12:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
steins_storiesTitle: Treat Me Right
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
steinsgrrl
Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I in no way intend to insinuate that any of the below actually happened. It is simply a piece of written entertainment based on the public personas of real people.
Rating: NC17,
Warnings: Adult Content
Summary: You always bring me down in public,
When nobody's around,
you say that you love me. - Backstreet Boys
Author Note: Written forfayelafee , beta by naruke_chan ...thank you, sweetheart. You are so good to me. ♥
The glass in the peephole was dirty and distorted the image on the other side of the thick, white door, but Georg would have known the silhouette of the man anywhere. His chest clenched and he dragged a breath in, deep and hard. He held it in his lungs, desperate for the oxygen that he knew the man would suck from the room the moment he set foot inside the door.
He’d just forced himself to relax, just begun to blow that held breath out slowly from between pursed lips, when his visitor rapped hard on the door again, making Georg jump. His eyes narrowed briefly in irritation and he wrenched the door open with more force than he’d meant to.
And that’s when time stopped. Breathing stopped. The air grew thin and all he could feel and hear was his frantic heart beating, as if it were flailing against his ribcage. And all he could see was Tom.
Tom, looking at his feet, his lashes shadowing the paleness in his cheeks; Tom, with his fingers twining together, wringing and pulling until the skin was pink. Tom, looking more handsome, more chiseled, more breath-taking than ever.
Georg’s fingers held tightly to the door, knuckles turning white, to keep his knees from buckling at his sudden light-headedness. He held on and waited.
Four more slow breaths and a hundred heart-beats later, Tom finally looked Georg in the eye.
“Hi.” The whisper was so soft, Georg wouldn’t have been sure it had existed if it weren’t for seeing Tom’s lips move. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. Not yet.
The paleness of Tom’s face looked sick against the backdrop of tan that he’d gained the last three weeks on vacation with his brother. He cleared his throat and glanced down the hall.
“Can I come in?” Tom’s voice was hesitant and small, and Georg’s vision shimmered at the sound of it. Blinking quickly, he opened the door wider, stepping back to let Tom in.
He followed Tom into the room and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard.
There was no way he was starting this. Georg had ended it, and he’d listen if Tom wanted to talk, but Georg wasn’t starting it. The move was up to Tom.
Tom stood by the window and fidgeted, looking around the room, looking anywhere but at Georg. He picked at the sides of his shirt before sighing and digging his fingers into his pockets.
Georg rolled his eyes. He’d be standing there all damn night if he didn’t say something.
“What?” Georg crossed his legs in front of him and folded his hands in his lap. Maybe if he looked like he was calm, he would actually be calm. But as Tom looked at him for a long moment, he started to sweat, and he wiped his palms on his jeans. “What do you want?”
“I’ve had some time to… think.” Tom glanced out the window and back at Georg, his face long and serious. He looked so nervous, maybe even scared, and Georg had never seen Tom scared. He almost felt sorry for the man, but he squashed that feeling down before it had time to settle in his chest.
“…and?”
“And I fucked up.” Georg snorted at that and reached for his cigarettes. His fingers were shaky and fumbled the lighter, dropping it. When he sat up from picking it up off the floor, Tom was rounding the end of the bed slowly.
Georg watched him, pulling two cigarettes out of the pack, lighting them both at the same time. The double hit of acrid smoke stung his tongue, and he blew a stream of blue smoke out to the side. As soon as Tom was close enough, Georg held a cigarette out to him.
It didn’t mean anything, he thought. He only gave it to Tom because he knew Tom would need it, tense as he was. It didn’t mean he cared anymore.
But Tom smiled as he accepted the cigarette, and Georg knew that the voice inside his head was a fucking liar.
Tom sat at Georg’s feet and they smoked in silence, the shadows of late afternoon falling around them. As the ash grew at the tips of their addiction, Georg centralized an ashtray between them.
“I told you that before you left.”
“I know.” Tom’s response came quick and short. “I know you did.” He turned to face Georg, folding his leg in front of him on the bed and leaning forward.
“I know you did, but now I’ve had time to think. You know, we never have time to think anymore.” Tom’s voice was low, husky from the smoke and the stress, and maybe something else.
Georg nodded, waiting. It seemed like he was always waiting. He picked at the frayed edge of his jeans pocket and was just bringing his cigarette up for another drag when he heard a soft-
“I’m sorry.”
He stared hard at Tom, trying desperately to read him, wanting so much to believe him. Leaning forward, and without looking, he slid his hand to the ashtray and stubbed his cigarette out.
“It’s gonna take more than saying you’re sorry, Tom. It hurt. It still hurts.” He sat back, folding his arms over his chest.
Two little words weren’t going to wipe away all the pain of the things Tom had said, the things he’d done over the years. But he felt himself weakening, the threads of his resolve slowly snapping, the fabric unraveling, and Georg trained his eyes on the scuffed toes of his sneakers.
“They’re just words.” Tom nodded and tapped a couple fingers on the tip of Georg’s shoe before squeezing the toe. “Words hurt. I guess I was hoping they would help, too.”
“It was more than what you said. You know that.” Georg scoffed and sat up, folding his legs in front of him. “You weren’t even sorry.”
He reached for his cigarettes again. Georg knew he’d pay for it later; he knew his lungs were going to hurt like hell, but right now, his chest hurt anyway, and he was okay with the trade-off if smoking again meant he’d just stop shaking inside.
Long, slender fingers wrapped around his wrist.
“I am sorry.”
Georg’s eyes traveled up to meet Tom’s, and his breath caught in his throat at the look on the man’s face. Tom’s gaze flicked down to where he held Georg’s wrist, but not before Georg had gotten a good, devastating look at the pain in Tom’s eyes.
Maybe Tom really was sorry.
He tried to push the thought away, tried to pretend it had never echoed in his head, because he couldn’t let himself think that. If he started to think that, he might start to fall again. And if he fell again, he was afraid he would fall right on his face.
“It was stupid. The whole thing was stupid.” Tom’s fingers began slow circles over the soft, white skin on the inside of Georg’s wrist. He trailed them lazily, like he wasn’t aware of what his fingers were doing, but Georg knew that Tom never did anything accidentally.
He also knew that if he stayed here, if he let Tom touch him like this, his resolve would finally be ripped and burned, leaving him bare and open. Goosebumps started to break out up his arm and he swore he’d move, he’d stop this, in just a moment.
He’d missed this so much.
Georg watched Tom’s fingers, how the fleshy pads skimmed over Georg’s damp palm, and he felt the lump that had found a permanent place in his throat.
Georg already knew it was too late. He could smell the smoldering remnants of his resolve before Tom’s next words had even left his lips.
“Fuck, Georg. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Tom cradled Georg’s hand in his, still touching, his fingers never stopping, as if the touching would somehow smooth out the uncertainty and pain he’d caused. “You know nothing I said was true. I had to say that shit; it’s my image.”
“Your image sucks.” As serious as he was, a small smile played at the edges of Georg’s lips, and he let his fingers twine with Tom’s, stilling them.
Tom smirked before he seemed to catch himself being the man he’d pretended to be, and he ducked his head, bringing Georg’s hand to his lips. They were dry, chapped, but they felt like a whisper of hope as they grazed Georg’s palm, and the air in Georg’s lungs suddenly seemed quite scarce.
“You didn’t fuck anyone.” His voice was strangled, wanting to know the truth, needing to know the truth, but terrified to hear it.
Tom brought his head back up sharply, his liquid, brown eyes intense in his gaze.
“No. Hell no. I told you it was all bullshit.”
His relief was palpable and covered him like a fleece blanket, warm and soft. Still, he had another wound, this one more serious, and a mere bandage wasn’t going to heal it.
“All the things you said, Tom.” Georg sighed and brushed his hair back from his face. “You said some pretty shitty things about me in public. Then you would tell me…”
He looked away, remembering, before bringing watery eyes back to Tom. Georg wasn’t going to cry, at least not in front of Tom; it was such a fucking girly thing to do. And hadn’t he done all that? Hadn’t he gotten this all out? He took a breath, just the smallest sucking gasp, desperate for the oxygen.
“…you would tell me the most amazing things when we were alone. When we were in bed.”
Tom blushed then, a beautiful rose that started in his neck and bled sweetly over his cheeks.
“I meant every word I said to you, Georg, every single word.”
Georg watched him for a long moment, watched the guilt and hope play across his love’s face. He wanted this so much, wanted to believe Tom. He needed this.
He reached out with trembling fingers and fisted them into the front of Tom’s polo, pulling him forward until their faces were centimeters apart. Tom’s breath was warm on his lips, moist and sweetly smoky, and Georg’s belly caught fire inside.
“Prove it. Prove you can treat me right.”
Their lips brushed, so slowly, just barely more than one man breathing the other. The smallest of noises came from Tom’s throat, and his hand wrapped around the back of Georg’s neck, pulling him closer.
It had been a month since the last time he’d felt Tom’s lips and tasted his breath, and for a man who could live on it, this first taste again of this man that he’d ached for, that he’d loved for so many years, was like explosion of color against a black, night sky. Georg moaned deep in his chest and crushed Tom to him.
Their lips met, hot and wet, sliding against each other, mouths suckling, tongues laving and lapping until they were panting, eyes open and fiery in their need. Georg pulled Tom’s hair ties out before planting his hands on Tom’s chest, the muscles taut under his fingers, and pushing him onto his back, sliding his leg over to straddle his hips.
It had killed him, having to end it with Tom, and so many nights in the last month, he’d lain awake, his stomach clenched and cramping. The vision inside his closed eyes had been so similar to the one in front of him now: Tom’s long dreads splayed out across the bed, lips parted and full, eyes hooded. Georg could barely breathe.
He ripped his tee shirt off, dropping it behind him and leaned down, sliding against the man beneath him as Tom’s trapped erection thrust up into his groin. Slim, cool fingers swept up his chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and Georg’s nipples hardened beneath their swirling touch. He sucked Tom’s tongue into his mouth, and he knew he was falling further and harder than he had even before, and he knew there was no net to catch him.
As he stood and slowly removed Tom’s clothing, worshiping with his hands and tongue each new hard plane of flesh he revealed, he prayed he’d never hit bottom.
Georg’s clothes quickly followed Tom’s to the floor and he lay on his side, head propped up on his elbow as he ran callused fingers down Tom’s skin. Goosebumps trailed his fingers, and Georg smiled when Tom shuddered and turned to face him, their erections bumping.
He wanted so much just to reach down and take Tom’s hardness in his palm, to wrap thick fingers around him and stroke softly. Just to hear those sounds Tom made, just to see that look on his face, the one that made him ache inside. But this wasn’t for him to do; he was waiting for Tom. Tom was the one with something to prove. And although this wasn’t all the proof he needed, it would be a damn good start.
Georg didn’t have to wait long.
Tom rolled him on his back and climbed on top, all knees and elbows bumping, long arms stretching out above them, curled around Georg’s head, cradling him. Long legs skimmed down the outside of his own until Tom covered him completely, every inch of warm flesh touching, rubbing together. Tom’s breath was hot where it met his neck before his tongue followed and he sucked wet kisses into the side of Georg’s neck.
The skin was smooth where Georg pressed his fingers into Tom’s back, spreading his hands flat over his spine, stroking down to Tom’s ass. Cupping his hands over fleshy cheeks, normally so skillfully hidden by layers of clothing, Georg pulled Tom’s groin down sharply, grinding up into it. The friction against his cock had liquid fire flowing through his veins, and he knew he couldn’t make this last long. It was too urgent, and he needed Tom too badly.
“Get the lube.” Georg breathed into Tom’s ear. “Get the lube and get yourself ready.” He ground up into Tom again, his cock weeping, trailing a thin line wherever it slid against his flesh, and he shivered as cooler air hit it when Tom sat up.
“I want to watch you.” Georg’s voice was gravelly and low, and he watched Tom’s dark eyes go darker.
Tom leaned across him to rifle through the toiletry bag on the side table. He knew where Georg kept the lube; he knew where Georg kept everything. Georg steadied him with strong hands gripping his waist, and Tom finally felt the distinctive bottle against his fingertips.
Settling back on Georg’s lap, Tom quickly popped the cap open and covered his fingers in the slick lube, his own erection bobbing out in front of him, dipping down to tap a clear line of precome against Georg’s belly. Georg was mesmerized. He knew the taste of that line, he knew the taste of the silky flesh that bore that line, and his mouth actually watered. If he hadn’t have been so intent on getting inside Tom, he might have felt chagrined.
Tom lifted up on his knees, leaving a triangle of space between them. Georg stroked Tom’s thighs as his lover’s hand disappeared behind his back, his shoulder dropping as his fingers brushed against his own puckered opening. Georg’s thick fingers lifted and stroked the velvet skin of Tom’s sac and he could finally see two of Tom’s fingers sliding slowly and carefully into the tiny, pink hole.
Tom’s breath hitched when he pressed a third finger deep inside himself, sinking it in as far as it would go, and Georg could see him working the fingers apart, little by little. He began to pant, short, shallow breaths that made his chest quake. He watched those fingers slide inside his lover and her remembered exactly how it felt to be inside him, enveloped in the tightness of Tom’s body, and it was all he could do to be gentle when he pulled Tom’s fingers out of himself and grabbed his arms to pull him down in a crushing kiss yet again.
Tom grunted in surprise when Georg rolled them over quickly, lubed his cock up and settled himself between Toms’ legs. He grasped Tom’s slender hips and pulled him lifted him, slim legs falling to the side as Tom surrendered all control to the man above him. For just a moment, the sheets beneath Tom’s head looked like their sheets at home, and Georg could almost smell their favorite candles around them, the ones they used for nights when they could finally be alone. The tip of Georg’s cock brushed against his hole, and he pushed in slowly.
He went as slowly as he could. He went slowly because he didn’t want to hurt Tom; although Tom had stretched himself out thoroughly, having those fingers in there still wasn’t the same as having Georg’s cock in there. He went slowly because if he didn’t, this would be over before it had really even begun, and there was no way Georg was letting that happen, either.
So he held his breath and went as slowly as he could. Tom was so damn tight, and he blew his breath out in one long stream when he’d finally pushed all the way in, Tom squeezing and relaxing around him until he thought he might lose it anyway.
Georg leaned down to kiss him, needing the distraction of Tom’s mouth, but his tongue was sinful and was no distraction at all. It didn’t help that Tom continued to flex around him, wrapping his legs around Georg’s back and pulling him closer.
“Stop!” He groaned into Tom’s lips and bit beneath Tom’s lip ring. Tom gasped and licked at his lip, meeting the slight taste of copper and Georg’s tongue there and sucking it in before biting it in return. Georg grunted and snapped his hips into Tom.
“Stop. Just let me-” and Georg began to move.
Tom held his hips then, as if holding on to a lifeline, as Georg slid himself out of the tightness that fit so hot around him. His muscles strained as he held himself steady, held himself back from plundering too deep and too fast into the man in front of him. Sweat began to sheen across his skin. He slid back in, driving faster, pushing a little further each time, until his hips were slapping against Tom’s ass, until he began to feel the fire in his belly flow out toward his limbs.
Tom was trembling beneath him, lifting his chin and pulling Georg down to mash their lips together, tongues meeting and rubbing, licking until Georg thought he could almost taste Tom’s coming orgasm. And at that moment, he wanted to see nothing but Tom.
Georg lifted himself to hover above Tom, his weight resting on his hands planted on either side of Tom’s head. Everything that existed for him was below him, and his tunnel vision led right to Tom.
Tom’s lips were moving, whispering words that Georg couldn’t hear, but his eyes were locked on Georg’s and through the hitched breathing, through the moans, Georg got the message.
He slid one hand between them and wrapped his hand around Tom’s cock, hot and sticky. Georg fisted him hard and fast, and Tom squirmed and clenched his eyes closed, his fingers digging into the hard flesh of Georg’s hips.
Georg hunched over him and panted a whisper across his lover’s lips. “Come on, Tom.”
Tom’s eyes flew open as the first spurts sprayed out onto his belly. His eyes were desperate, and Georg kissed him hard, Tom mumbling nothing and everything into him, Georg drinking it all down.
He thrust hard now, chasing in Tom what Tom had already found in him, and it didn‘t take long. With Tom’s body still clenching hard around him, Georg held tightly to Tom’s hip and pushed into him one final time, his arms shaking as he shot deep inside his lover.
Tom wrapped his arms around him then, pulling Georg down on top of him before his arms could give out. As their panting breaths slowed, Georg nuzzled into Tom’s dreads, musky and moist with sweat. Finally, Tom kissed his shoulder and rolled Georg off him, getting up carefully and disappearing into the bathroom, and coming back with a warm, damp towel to clean them off with.
They climbed beneath the sheets, their sweat drying on their skin, but Georg was too tired and too content to be bothered with showering tonight. Tom lay close to him, his head on the pillow, and even though Georg’s eyes were closed, he could feel Tom watching him.
A question seemed to hang in the air, a question that should have been answered, but when Georg turned to look at him, the uncertainty still lived in Tom’s wide eyes.
Georg opened his arms and gathered Tom to him, his palm petting damp dreads, his chest finally loosening and he felt like he could breathe for the first time in a month.
“Thank you.” He felt Tom’s eyelashes flick against his jaw as Tom looked up at him. “I’ll make it up to you, you know--”
Georg tipped his chin down, smothering the words on Tom’s lips with his own. He didn’t want Tom to make it up to him, he wanted to start again. He wanted a blank slate for them to create their own story on, from the beginning.
“I missed you.” Georg kissed him again. “I’m glad you’re home.”
As their eyes slipped closed and their breaths evened out, Georg tightened his hold around Tom’s waist, and he finally felt like he was home again, too.
Author:
steinsgrrlFandom: Tokio Hotel
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I in no way intend to insinuate that any of the below actually happened. It is simply a piece of written entertainment based on the public personas of real people.
Rating: NC17,
Warnings: Adult Content
Summary: You always bring me down in public,
When nobody's around,
you say that you love me. - Backstreet Boys
Author Note: Written for
fayelafee , beta by naruke_chan ...thank you, sweetheart. You are so good to me. ♥The glass in the peephole was dirty and distorted the image on the other side of the thick, white door, but Georg would have known the silhouette of the man anywhere. His chest clenched and he dragged a breath in, deep and hard. He held it in his lungs, desperate for the oxygen that he knew the man would suck from the room the moment he set foot inside the door.
He’d just forced himself to relax, just begun to blow that held breath out slowly from between pursed lips, when his visitor rapped hard on the door again, making Georg jump. His eyes narrowed briefly in irritation and he wrenched the door open with more force than he’d meant to.
And that’s when time stopped. Breathing stopped. The air grew thin and all he could feel and hear was his frantic heart beating, as if it were flailing against his ribcage. And all he could see was Tom.
Tom, looking at his feet, his lashes shadowing the paleness in his cheeks; Tom, with his fingers twining together, wringing and pulling until the skin was pink. Tom, looking more handsome, more chiseled, more breath-taking than ever.
Georg’s fingers held tightly to the door, knuckles turning white, to keep his knees from buckling at his sudden light-headedness. He held on and waited.
Four more slow breaths and a hundred heart-beats later, Tom finally looked Georg in the eye.
“Hi.” The whisper was so soft, Georg wouldn’t have been sure it had existed if it weren’t for seeing Tom’s lips move. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. Not yet.
The paleness of Tom’s face looked sick against the backdrop of tan that he’d gained the last three weeks on vacation with his brother. He cleared his throat and glanced down the hall.
“Can I come in?” Tom’s voice was hesitant and small, and Georg’s vision shimmered at the sound of it. Blinking quickly, he opened the door wider, stepping back to let Tom in.
He followed Tom into the room and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard.
There was no way he was starting this. Georg had ended it, and he’d listen if Tom wanted to talk, but Georg wasn’t starting it. The move was up to Tom.
Tom stood by the window and fidgeted, looking around the room, looking anywhere but at Georg. He picked at the sides of his shirt before sighing and digging his fingers into his pockets.
Georg rolled his eyes. He’d be standing there all damn night if he didn’t say something.
“What?” Georg crossed his legs in front of him and folded his hands in his lap. Maybe if he looked like he was calm, he would actually be calm. But as Tom looked at him for a long moment, he started to sweat, and he wiped his palms on his jeans. “What do you want?”
“I’ve had some time to… think.” Tom glanced out the window and back at Georg, his face long and serious. He looked so nervous, maybe even scared, and Georg had never seen Tom scared. He almost felt sorry for the man, but he squashed that feeling down before it had time to settle in his chest.
“…and?”
“And I fucked up.” Georg snorted at that and reached for his cigarettes. His fingers were shaky and fumbled the lighter, dropping it. When he sat up from picking it up off the floor, Tom was rounding the end of the bed slowly.
Georg watched him, pulling two cigarettes out of the pack, lighting them both at the same time. The double hit of acrid smoke stung his tongue, and he blew a stream of blue smoke out to the side. As soon as Tom was close enough, Georg held a cigarette out to him.
It didn’t mean anything, he thought. He only gave it to Tom because he knew Tom would need it, tense as he was. It didn’t mean he cared anymore.
But Tom smiled as he accepted the cigarette, and Georg knew that the voice inside his head was a fucking liar.
Tom sat at Georg’s feet and they smoked in silence, the shadows of late afternoon falling around them. As the ash grew at the tips of their addiction, Georg centralized an ashtray between them.
“I told you that before you left.”
“I know.” Tom’s response came quick and short. “I know you did.” He turned to face Georg, folding his leg in front of him on the bed and leaning forward.
“I know you did, but now I’ve had time to think. You know, we never have time to think anymore.” Tom’s voice was low, husky from the smoke and the stress, and maybe something else.
Georg nodded, waiting. It seemed like he was always waiting. He picked at the frayed edge of his jeans pocket and was just bringing his cigarette up for another drag when he heard a soft-
“I’m sorry.”
He stared hard at Tom, trying desperately to read him, wanting so much to believe him. Leaning forward, and without looking, he slid his hand to the ashtray and stubbed his cigarette out.
“It’s gonna take more than saying you’re sorry, Tom. It hurt. It still hurts.” He sat back, folding his arms over his chest.
Two little words weren’t going to wipe away all the pain of the things Tom had said, the things he’d done over the years. But he felt himself weakening, the threads of his resolve slowly snapping, the fabric unraveling, and Georg trained his eyes on the scuffed toes of his sneakers.
“They’re just words.” Tom nodded and tapped a couple fingers on the tip of Georg’s shoe before squeezing the toe. “Words hurt. I guess I was hoping they would help, too.”
“It was more than what you said. You know that.” Georg scoffed and sat up, folding his legs in front of him. “You weren’t even sorry.”
He reached for his cigarettes again. Georg knew he’d pay for it later; he knew his lungs were going to hurt like hell, but right now, his chest hurt anyway, and he was okay with the trade-off if smoking again meant he’d just stop shaking inside.
Long, slender fingers wrapped around his wrist.
“I am sorry.”
Georg’s eyes traveled up to meet Tom’s, and his breath caught in his throat at the look on the man’s face. Tom’s gaze flicked down to where he held Georg’s wrist, but not before Georg had gotten a good, devastating look at the pain in Tom’s eyes.
Maybe Tom really was sorry.
He tried to push the thought away, tried to pretend it had never echoed in his head, because he couldn’t let himself think that. If he started to think that, he might start to fall again. And if he fell again, he was afraid he would fall right on his face.
“It was stupid. The whole thing was stupid.” Tom’s fingers began slow circles over the soft, white skin on the inside of Georg’s wrist. He trailed them lazily, like he wasn’t aware of what his fingers were doing, but Georg knew that Tom never did anything accidentally.
He also knew that if he stayed here, if he let Tom touch him like this, his resolve would finally be ripped and burned, leaving him bare and open. Goosebumps started to break out up his arm and he swore he’d move, he’d stop this, in just a moment.
He’d missed this so much.
Georg watched Tom’s fingers, how the fleshy pads skimmed over Georg’s damp palm, and he felt the lump that had found a permanent place in his throat.
Georg already knew it was too late. He could smell the smoldering remnants of his resolve before Tom’s next words had even left his lips.
“Fuck, Georg. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Tom cradled Georg’s hand in his, still touching, his fingers never stopping, as if the touching would somehow smooth out the uncertainty and pain he’d caused. “You know nothing I said was true. I had to say that shit; it’s my image.”
“Your image sucks.” As serious as he was, a small smile played at the edges of Georg’s lips, and he let his fingers twine with Tom’s, stilling them.
Tom smirked before he seemed to catch himself being the man he’d pretended to be, and he ducked his head, bringing Georg’s hand to his lips. They were dry, chapped, but they felt like a whisper of hope as they grazed Georg’s palm, and the air in Georg’s lungs suddenly seemed quite scarce.
“You didn’t fuck anyone.” His voice was strangled, wanting to know the truth, needing to know the truth, but terrified to hear it.
Tom brought his head back up sharply, his liquid, brown eyes intense in his gaze.
“No. Hell no. I told you it was all bullshit.”
His relief was palpable and covered him like a fleece blanket, warm and soft. Still, he had another wound, this one more serious, and a mere bandage wasn’t going to heal it.
“All the things you said, Tom.” Georg sighed and brushed his hair back from his face. “You said some pretty shitty things about me in public. Then you would tell me…”
He looked away, remembering, before bringing watery eyes back to Tom. Georg wasn’t going to cry, at least not in front of Tom; it was such a fucking girly thing to do. And hadn’t he done all that? Hadn’t he gotten this all out? He took a breath, just the smallest sucking gasp, desperate for the oxygen.
“…you would tell me the most amazing things when we were alone. When we were in bed.”
Tom blushed then, a beautiful rose that started in his neck and bled sweetly over his cheeks.
“I meant every word I said to you, Georg, every single word.”
Georg watched him for a long moment, watched the guilt and hope play across his love’s face. He wanted this so much, wanted to believe Tom. He needed this.
He reached out with trembling fingers and fisted them into the front of Tom’s polo, pulling him forward until their faces were centimeters apart. Tom’s breath was warm on his lips, moist and sweetly smoky, and Georg’s belly caught fire inside.
“Prove it. Prove you can treat me right.”
Their lips brushed, so slowly, just barely more than one man breathing the other. The smallest of noises came from Tom’s throat, and his hand wrapped around the back of Georg’s neck, pulling him closer.
It had been a month since the last time he’d felt Tom’s lips and tasted his breath, and for a man who could live on it, this first taste again of this man that he’d ached for, that he’d loved for so many years, was like explosion of color against a black, night sky. Georg moaned deep in his chest and crushed Tom to him.
Their lips met, hot and wet, sliding against each other, mouths suckling, tongues laving and lapping until they were panting, eyes open and fiery in their need. Georg pulled Tom’s hair ties out before planting his hands on Tom’s chest, the muscles taut under his fingers, and pushing him onto his back, sliding his leg over to straddle his hips.
It had killed him, having to end it with Tom, and so many nights in the last month, he’d lain awake, his stomach clenched and cramping. The vision inside his closed eyes had been so similar to the one in front of him now: Tom’s long dreads splayed out across the bed, lips parted and full, eyes hooded. Georg could barely breathe.
He ripped his tee shirt off, dropping it behind him and leaned down, sliding against the man beneath him as Tom’s trapped erection thrust up into his groin. Slim, cool fingers swept up his chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and Georg’s nipples hardened beneath their swirling touch. He sucked Tom’s tongue into his mouth, and he knew he was falling further and harder than he had even before, and he knew there was no net to catch him.
As he stood and slowly removed Tom’s clothing, worshiping with his hands and tongue each new hard plane of flesh he revealed, he prayed he’d never hit bottom.
Georg’s clothes quickly followed Tom’s to the floor and he lay on his side, head propped up on his elbow as he ran callused fingers down Tom’s skin. Goosebumps trailed his fingers, and Georg smiled when Tom shuddered and turned to face him, their erections bumping.
He wanted so much just to reach down and take Tom’s hardness in his palm, to wrap thick fingers around him and stroke softly. Just to hear those sounds Tom made, just to see that look on his face, the one that made him ache inside. But this wasn’t for him to do; he was waiting for Tom. Tom was the one with something to prove. And although this wasn’t all the proof he needed, it would be a damn good start.
Georg didn’t have to wait long.
Tom rolled him on his back and climbed on top, all knees and elbows bumping, long arms stretching out above them, curled around Georg’s head, cradling him. Long legs skimmed down the outside of his own until Tom covered him completely, every inch of warm flesh touching, rubbing together. Tom’s breath was hot where it met his neck before his tongue followed and he sucked wet kisses into the side of Georg’s neck.
The skin was smooth where Georg pressed his fingers into Tom’s back, spreading his hands flat over his spine, stroking down to Tom’s ass. Cupping his hands over fleshy cheeks, normally so skillfully hidden by layers of clothing, Georg pulled Tom’s groin down sharply, grinding up into it. The friction against his cock had liquid fire flowing through his veins, and he knew he couldn’t make this last long. It was too urgent, and he needed Tom too badly.
“Get the lube.” Georg breathed into Tom’s ear. “Get the lube and get yourself ready.” He ground up into Tom again, his cock weeping, trailing a thin line wherever it slid against his flesh, and he shivered as cooler air hit it when Tom sat up.
“I want to watch you.” Georg’s voice was gravelly and low, and he watched Tom’s dark eyes go darker.
Tom leaned across him to rifle through the toiletry bag on the side table. He knew where Georg kept the lube; he knew where Georg kept everything. Georg steadied him with strong hands gripping his waist, and Tom finally felt the distinctive bottle against his fingertips.
Settling back on Georg’s lap, Tom quickly popped the cap open and covered his fingers in the slick lube, his own erection bobbing out in front of him, dipping down to tap a clear line of precome against Georg’s belly. Georg was mesmerized. He knew the taste of that line, he knew the taste of the silky flesh that bore that line, and his mouth actually watered. If he hadn’t have been so intent on getting inside Tom, he might have felt chagrined.
Tom lifted up on his knees, leaving a triangle of space between them. Georg stroked Tom’s thighs as his lover’s hand disappeared behind his back, his shoulder dropping as his fingers brushed against his own puckered opening. Georg’s thick fingers lifted and stroked the velvet skin of Tom’s sac and he could finally see two of Tom’s fingers sliding slowly and carefully into the tiny, pink hole.
Tom’s breath hitched when he pressed a third finger deep inside himself, sinking it in as far as it would go, and Georg could see him working the fingers apart, little by little. He began to pant, short, shallow breaths that made his chest quake. He watched those fingers slide inside his lover and her remembered exactly how it felt to be inside him, enveloped in the tightness of Tom’s body, and it was all he could do to be gentle when he pulled Tom’s fingers out of himself and grabbed his arms to pull him down in a crushing kiss yet again.
Tom grunted in surprise when Georg rolled them over quickly, lubed his cock up and settled himself between Toms’ legs. He grasped Tom’s slender hips and pulled him lifted him, slim legs falling to the side as Tom surrendered all control to the man above him. For just a moment, the sheets beneath Tom’s head looked like their sheets at home, and Georg could almost smell their favorite candles around them, the ones they used for nights when they could finally be alone. The tip of Georg’s cock brushed against his hole, and he pushed in slowly.
He went as slowly as he could. He went slowly because he didn’t want to hurt Tom; although Tom had stretched himself out thoroughly, having those fingers in there still wasn’t the same as having Georg’s cock in there. He went slowly because if he didn’t, this would be over before it had really even begun, and there was no way Georg was letting that happen, either.
So he held his breath and went as slowly as he could. Tom was so damn tight, and he blew his breath out in one long stream when he’d finally pushed all the way in, Tom squeezing and relaxing around him until he thought he might lose it anyway.
Georg leaned down to kiss him, needing the distraction of Tom’s mouth, but his tongue was sinful and was no distraction at all. It didn’t help that Tom continued to flex around him, wrapping his legs around Georg’s back and pulling him closer.
“Stop!” He groaned into Tom’s lips and bit beneath Tom’s lip ring. Tom gasped and licked at his lip, meeting the slight taste of copper and Georg’s tongue there and sucking it in before biting it in return. Georg grunted and snapped his hips into Tom.
“Stop. Just let me-” and Georg began to move.
Tom held his hips then, as if holding on to a lifeline, as Georg slid himself out of the tightness that fit so hot around him. His muscles strained as he held himself steady, held himself back from plundering too deep and too fast into the man in front of him. Sweat began to sheen across his skin. He slid back in, driving faster, pushing a little further each time, until his hips were slapping against Tom’s ass, until he began to feel the fire in his belly flow out toward his limbs.
Tom was trembling beneath him, lifting his chin and pulling Georg down to mash their lips together, tongues meeting and rubbing, licking until Georg thought he could almost taste Tom’s coming orgasm. And at that moment, he wanted to see nothing but Tom.
Georg lifted himself to hover above Tom, his weight resting on his hands planted on either side of Tom’s head. Everything that existed for him was below him, and his tunnel vision led right to Tom.
Tom’s lips were moving, whispering words that Georg couldn’t hear, but his eyes were locked on Georg’s and through the hitched breathing, through the moans, Georg got the message.
He slid one hand between them and wrapped his hand around Tom’s cock, hot and sticky. Georg fisted him hard and fast, and Tom squirmed and clenched his eyes closed, his fingers digging into the hard flesh of Georg’s hips.
Georg hunched over him and panted a whisper across his lover’s lips. “Come on, Tom.”
Tom’s eyes flew open as the first spurts sprayed out onto his belly. His eyes were desperate, and Georg kissed him hard, Tom mumbling nothing and everything into him, Georg drinking it all down.
He thrust hard now, chasing in Tom what Tom had already found in him, and it didn‘t take long. With Tom’s body still clenching hard around him, Georg held tightly to Tom’s hip and pushed into him one final time, his arms shaking as he shot deep inside his lover.
Tom wrapped his arms around him then, pulling Georg down on top of him before his arms could give out. As their panting breaths slowed, Georg nuzzled into Tom’s dreads, musky and moist with sweat. Finally, Tom kissed his shoulder and rolled Georg off him, getting up carefully and disappearing into the bathroom, and coming back with a warm, damp towel to clean them off with.
They climbed beneath the sheets, their sweat drying on their skin, but Georg was too tired and too content to be bothered with showering tonight. Tom lay close to him, his head on the pillow, and even though Georg’s eyes were closed, he could feel Tom watching him.
A question seemed to hang in the air, a question that should have been answered, but when Georg turned to look at him, the uncertainty still lived in Tom’s wide eyes.
Georg opened his arms and gathered Tom to him, his palm petting damp dreads, his chest finally loosening and he felt like he could breathe for the first time in a month.
“Thank you.” He felt Tom’s eyelashes flick against his jaw as Tom looked up at him. “I’ll make it up to you, you know--”
Georg tipped his chin down, smothering the words on Tom’s lips with his own. He didn’t want Tom to make it up to him, he wanted to start again. He wanted a blank slate for them to create their own story on, from the beginning.
“I missed you.” Georg kissed him again. “I’m glad you’re home.”
As their eyes slipped closed and their breaths evened out, Georg tightened his hold around Tom’s waist, and he finally felt like he was home again, too.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-05 07:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-05 07:43 am (UTC)(and by the way, icon LOVE!)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-05 02:56 pm (UTC)and you about threw that away Tom? my god....
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-05 06:03 pm (UTC)<3
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-05 06:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-05 01:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-06 03:36 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-12 07:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-09-12 08:00 pm (UTC)