Chapter Text
Things were not going too well for Tom. First of all, he freaked out the next day after he'd massaged Bill's prostate. He'd thought he was doing it to help Bill relax and be able to perform, and all of a sudden he'd found himself in a tangled mix of Bill coming and he, himself, wanting to come, and he'd even contemplated having anal sex with his twin brother. And that was just the beginning. He'd managed to convince himself that it had been temporary insanity, because surely something as unpleasant and even repulsive as prostate massaging didn't have anything to do with anal sex. He'd been so ignorant and innocent. Tom thought about that time with nostalgia after a session with Google. And things were going to get even worse.
He had taken advantage of a rare quiet moment in the lounge area by googling prostate massage to make sure that what had happened between him and Bill was all right. The search results made him feel positively ill. The male hot spot! The male G Spot! Sensual! Pleasurable!
And then...
"Hey, Tom!"
Bill peeked in and Tom shut the laptop so fast he almost clipped his fingers. He was sure he looked guilty enough to have killed dozens of innocents, but Bill didn't seem to notice. He leaned closer to Tom, talking in a low voice.
"The massage has worked wonders! We were top-notch last night! I feel great!" Was that an adoring look Bill was giving him? "Thanks to you."
"Uh, er," Tom said, feeling like he was drowning. He couldn't get enough air. He couldn't think of anything to say to fix this. It was beyond fixing.
Bill flashed him one of his widest, happiest smiles. "This is going to be our best tour! And I'm going to be so stunning. Can we do it again soon?"
The laptop burned on Tom's thighs. He could still see the advert gushing about a hot nurse porn video with prostate action. His stomach felt like it had dropped below floor-level. But Bill looked so happy.
"Sure," Tom croaked.
Bill clapped. "Thanks! You're the best!" He whirled around and left Tom to clutch his laptop in dread. He'd just promised to stroke Bill inside his ass until Bill came, and Bill didn't think it was problematic at all. Bill had asked for it!
What had he done to his little brother?
***
The horrifying consequences of Tom helping Bill bled into the most everyday situations, too, like eating a hotel breakfast with Georg and Gustav. Bill was leafing though a trashy magazine, blinking sleepily, and Tom was snarfing down a waffle next to him, thankfully not thinking about Bill in conjunction with gay sex for once.
"Are you even reading it?" Tom asked, after Bill had turned a few pages so mechanically and quickly that he couldn't have paid much attention to them.
"Huh?" Bill said. He glanced up, looking so clueless that Tom gave up; Bill hadn't probably even heard him.
"Hey, I think I've read that one," Tom said, craning his neck to see the page with pictures of a striped cat. "This is really funny. It's a cat who adopts a puppy, see?"
"Where?" Bill looked back down at the page. He looked adorably lost. Tom couldn't help but smile.
"Here." Tom pointed at the picture of a cat nursing. He supposed he ought to help Bill, since his mental capacity was working like he was actually awake. "See? The cat has four kittens, but this one is a puppy." Tom circled the puppy and tapped it for good measure. He wasn't sure Bill got it even then; his eyes were looking kind of glazed.
"A..." Bill repeated, and Tom grinned, feeling affectionate. Bill was rarely so slow on the uptake.
"A puppy," he said. "You know, like a dog? She's going to grow up and think the cat is her mother!"
And then Tom realised that Bill wasn't thinking about the puppy, and he wasn't thinking about a grown dog that treated a much smaller cat like her mother. Bill was concentrating on Tom's finger that was, now that Tom thought about it, caressing the glossy magazine page slowly and lovingly. This dawned on Tom right when he was looking at Bill and Bill licked his lips, and then there was a consecutive train wreck of Tom's breath catching at the sight of the soft tip of Bill's tongue, and Bill shifting his hips and letting his legs fall open a little, and then Tom was suddenly rock hard and faltering.
It was like a nightmare: the most wrong, unthinkable things in the middle of kittens and puppies! He couldn't spend time with his brother normally anymore. They couldn't be close with Tom's fingers visible and Tom seeing Bill's tongue without this weirdness. Without Tom doing his damndest so as not to think about where he wanted Bill's tongue.
Bill looked up at him and, for a moment, Tom looked back helplessly, not sure what to do. He couldn't suggest a straightforward arrangement of mutual orgasms to his brother. Basically, the only solution to sitting next to his twin, hard, was to repress like hell.
Bill's eyes were dark on him. He looked like he'd be slow but intense, and so freaking hot in bed, Tom's traitorous mind noted. "Tom," Bill said, voice raspy.
Tom moved quickly backwards, sliding on his chair to get as far away from Bill as possible without attracting unwanted attention to them. He was seriously afraid that if he didn't get some space between them, he'd end up humping against Bill sooner rather than later, and despite being in public.
"Let's just," Tom said, nervously, and looked anywhere but at Bill. "Let's just eat breakfast so we can go on with our schedule."
***
The next time they did, it was, again, right before a concert. Bill said it had helped him so much last time. "I felt like I was glowing the whole night," he'd said, and Tom had tried not to think about it much. At all, to be precise.
And now they were by Bill's bunk again. Bill was taking off his trousers. "Thanks for doing this. I really need it and I think it's going to help hugely," Bill said.
Tom saw he was half-hard already and quickly looked the other way. He felt like he was going to pass out. This was incest and gay and sex and he couldn't do it, but he couldn't tell Bill that because he couldn't tell Bill why, and it felt like his world was coming to an end. It just didn't sit right with him; Tom Kaulitz wasn't the kind of person to do this. Tom Kaulitz didn't make his little brother come, didn't tell him that it was platonic, almost medical, in fact, so that said little brother thought innocently that this was making him a better artist.
"Are you all right?" Bill asked. "You look a little pale."
"Fine," Tom said. He felt like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, that was all. "Let's do this."
Bill settled on the bed and Tom rubbed his hands on his thighs to make himself calm down. It was nothing, really. Maybe it looked like gay incestuous sex but it wasn't, was it? So it was all right. There wasn't anything sexual about it; it wasn't nice at all, it was even a bit repulsive, so he could do it. He could be disinterested and professional and he could do it.
Tom sat down and Bill scooted closer to him, on his back with his legs wide apart. Icky, Tom reminded himself. Then he looked at Bill's cock again — it was kind of difficult not to look at it, the position he was in — and the guilt threatened to overwhelm him again. Bill was clearly looking forward to having Tom's fingers in his ass. Bill wasn't disinterested at all. It was all Tom's fault.
There was a pause. Then Bill turned. "Oh, right. Here it is..."
He gave Tom a bottle of lotion. He was doomed. They were both doomed. "Thanks," Tom said, as if manners mattered now that he was perverting his baby brother.
"Well, get on with it," Bill prompted when Tom hesitated.
"Do you," Tom started and swallowed. Do you think this is all right? Bill looked so sure, though, so confident that it was a right thing to do, something useful and good for them. Tom couldn't share that belief. "Do you mind if it's cold?" he finished. The obscene whiteness of the lotion on his fingers mocked him.
"I'm good, don't worry about it," Bill said. "Besides, it's only cold for a while."
He smiled and Tom felt his expression change immediately, trying to answer the smile, even though he felt grave like someone had died.
"Okay then," Tom said. He straightened his shoulders, trying to fortify himself. Maybe it was just physical, a thought occurred to him. Bill might have an orgasm, but it was just tension release, a physical reaction, like sneezing. He could just as well cry or something like that. People cried when the tension broke after something stressful. Bill... came. Tom decided this was a logical and sound explanation and that he was going to hold on to it, no matter what. Then he placed his fingers against the crease of Bill's ass.
When Tom touched Bill's hole, Bill made a gasping noise that raised the hairs all over Tom's body. Tom stilled.
"Okay?"
"Yeah," Bill said. He sounded breathless. "It's just really sensitive."
Tom's gut churned. "Right."
He circled Bill's hole, not daring to plunge in yet. Bill's skin was hot. Tom knew that inside it was even hotter. He tried to be surreptitious when taking a deep breath to calm his own insides. It didn't help. His heart was hammering.
Bill was looking up at the ceiling, a small relief.
"I don't think you need to prep that much now," Bill said.
So much for relief.
Tom took another deep breath, telling himself it was dirty and backwards and not about sex, even if they'd made hot nurse porn about it, and nudged the tip of his middle finger in Bill.
It was so tight. The pressure around his finger was unbelievable. Unbelievably enticing.
"Wait," Bill breathed, and that was all right with Tom, who could use a minute to regain his composure.
"Okay," Bill said, sighing. "But take it slow."
Tom would have said something, but he didn't trust his voice. He turned his finger slightly, like he'd done before, this way and that. Bill seemed comfortable with it, so he tested moving it back and forth a little.
"Mmh," Bill said. Tom tried to ignore him, but it was kind of difficult to ignore Bill at that particular moment. It was already easier to move his finger in Bill, as if Bill was welcoming it, anticipating Tom's touch.
Tom swallowed.
Repulsive, Tom reminded himself. Dirty and gross. His finger slipped deeper in the silky softness, the tight heat making his finger tingle. And other parts of him, too. Oh, fuck.
Tom tried to make it pleasant for Bill, despite everything, sliding his finger carefully in and out and around, petting gently. Judging from Bill's vocal feedback, he was doing all right.
"Oh," Bill said, "oh." His eyes were closed and his lips were parted. He was breathing erratically and kind of quickly. "Ahh," he said, his voice almost breaking. "That feels like the best thing ever. Seriously, Tom. That feels so good."
Tom was sweating and hot all over and his ears burned when Bill kept telling him how fantastic his big brother was making him feel. In bed. Sexually. Tom tried to block all thoughts and get this over with as soon as possible. He felt miserable. And he was also hard.
"I'm not even touching it yet," he said.
"I know," Bill said, and now his voice sounded different, expecting and low.
Tom flicked his eyes at Bill reflexively and Bill was looking right back, his eyes dark.
"I'm going to, now," Tom said hastily, because the sooner this was over the better. He pushed his finger deeper and watched it disappear further inside Bill, Bill's body swallowing it. His imagination was giving him an instant, vivid little video of his cock pushing into the slippery tightness. Tom drew a shaky breath, feeling flushed, and looked at Bill's face again. Bill was still watching him. With a thoughtful air, eyes trained on Tom, he drew his legs up a little and then spread them further, as if to... accommodate... something between them.
Tom leaned forward, feeling like the axis of the world had shifted and he was going to fall over, right on top of Bill. He gripped the edge of the bunk and panted helplessly. Bill was biting his lip, still watching, until Tom finally got his useless finger to work properly and crooked it in a large swipe that was bound to hit Bill's prostate.
It worked, thankfully, and Bill let out a little cry, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side as if he couldn't help himself. It looked like it was really good to him. Like Tom was really good to him. The thought made Tom feel a million times hotter all at once and a small sound slipped past his lips. Luckily Bill was too preoccupied to notice.
Tom kept touching Bill's prostate, pressing and rubbing, and Bill moaned and keened and gulped air as if he wasn't getting enough of it. Tom couldn't help but wonder how he'd ever thought this wasn't about sex when Bill was so clearly in the throes of pleasure. Then he reminded himself that he hadn't realised that someone sticking a finger up a guy's ass could feel so good, even though he had been vaguely aware of gay men having anal sex. He hadn't really realised that that would feel good, either, but now that-
Tom tried not to think about it. He focused on the mechanics. He slipped another finger in. Bill was so hot and tight, and it would probably feel amazing if-
Tom grasped for another thought, anything to keep his mind occupied, but it wasn't happening. Tom's eyes roamed hungrily all over Bill: Bill's mouth, slack; his eyes that were squeezed shut; his face that was shining with sweat. Bill was squirming, his whole body, and Tom couldn't stop a curious part of him from imagining how Bill would feel against him if he were to cover Bill's half-naked body with his.
Tom's imagination was altogether wild and out of control. Bill looked as if he couldn't hold it all in, as if it felt so mind-blowing and amazing — that was why he was squirming, rubbing his palms against the bedspread, tipping his head back so that the column of his throat was exposed to Tom. And he was constantly moaning and emitting little pants of "Ah" and even whining. And Tom-
Tom couldn't stop thinking about what Bill would have looked and sounded like if it had been Tom's cock inside him, in the tight canal of his ass that was silken heat around his fingers. Would Bill have panted like that, would he have moaned like that, would he have asked for more? Would Bill have been clutching the material of Tom's shirt, would he have run his palms down Tom's back, Tom's skin? Would he have pushed his body up against Tom's and chanted Tom's name? Like he was chanting now.
Tom realised, as if through a fog, that he was cradling his cock through his trousers and stroking it a little. He tried to stop, because it was wrong — it was so wrong — but no matter how he tried, he couldn't. And so he was practically jacking himself when Bill wailed for the last time and came all over himself, thrashing and kicking the bed sheets.
Tom froze, his fingers still inside Bill and his other hand on his cock. Bill panted and looked at Tom, shaking his head. For a moment Tom thought he was commenting on Tom's sad state of being and he lowered his eyes in shame and dread, extracting his fingers as quickly and carefully as he could.
"That was so fucking amazing," Bill said, and Tom realised that was what the head shaking had been about.
"Ungh," Tom said, articulately. "I've got to go."
Despite his languorous state, Bill sat up awfully quickly. "Wait, let's talk," he said, but Tom was already up and moving. He shuffled sideways to the door because he was still hard and he didn't want Bill to see. He had never felt so low in his life.
That hadn't been about tension release. It was sexual. And Tom realised that he wanted to have incestuous gay sex with Bill, as wrong and horrible as that was. He had to get away from Bill quickly, so he ran.