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Captivation	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 6307 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Bill or Tom Kaulitz or any members of Tokio Hotel and this story is a complete work of fiction; it is all made up and not true. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Alrighty - if you want sexy action, then you got it in this chapter. Okay, it's solo action but still...it ought to be hot and dirty enough to satisfy most of you freaks ;)

Chapter 15. Awakened Desire
I make it into the media booth just in time to hear Tom demanding, “Are you okay? What’d he make you do? Did he make you undress? Did he touch you?”
Bill seems bemused by the barrage of questions as he shuts the door. “No. I’m fine.”
Tom clearly doesn’t believe that, stepping up close to his brother with a concerned frown. Holding Bill’s chin firmly in his hand, the older teenager inspects his smaller twin for damage - checking his face, throat and wrists, looking for any signs of violence or ill-treatment and not finding anything. He even snatches up the front of Bill’s shirt to see if there are any bruises or finger-marks on his stomach or hips.
“Stop it!” Bill replies defensively, slapping Tom’s hand away. “He didn’t make me do anything and he didn’t touch me anywhere. I told you he wouldn’t!”
A dubious expression still sits on Tom’s handsome features as he reluctantly backs off. “Then what happened?”
“We talked.”
“About what?”
“You know. Stuff. Doesn’t matter.”
“You were in there for ages. It must have been important.”
“Well, if you must know, he told me about when he and his brother first slept together. They were only fifteen. You want to hear the story?”
“No thanks,” Tom mutters with a curl of his lip. “I don’t need to know that. Gross.”
“It wasn’t gross. It was interesting,” Bill muses. “He told me this theory about past lives and reincarnation, too. That was cool. He said we could have lived in Egyptian times and known each other back then. You and me, I mean.”
“Uh huh. That’s great,” the bigger boy impatiently replies. “And what else? Did he say anything about me?”
“Yes, he said you were stubborn and you push his buttons the wrong way. He says you know exactly how to piss him off.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Tom drawls sourly.
“But it wasn’t all bad,” Bill offers. “He said he likes how you challenge him, how you have spirit. He wanted to know how you were and asked how you felt about what happened the other day.”
Avoiding any mention of what Bill actually did to me, Tom pushes, “Well, what did you tell him?”
“I said you were mad. He said he understood. He didn’t mean for it to go so far and promised it wouldn’t happen again. He said that he was sorry.”
“Yeah, he seems like a real sorry type of kidnapper.” Tom’s tone drips with sarcasm. “Did you tell him you were mad too?”
“I’m fine with it.” Shrugging dismissively, Bill states, “It was just a game that got out of control. That’s all it was.”
Tom’s facial expressions range from disbelief, to horror to anger. “All it was? Are you fucking kidding, Bill? He had NO right to make you do that to him. That’s not a game; it’s sexual assault!”
“Not if I agreed to it,” Bill argues, appearing impatient and irritated. “Look, I did it and it’s done. It’s over with and I wouldn’t do it again. I just want to forget it ever happened. Can we change the subject, please?”
Rubbing at his forehead and forcing himself to calm down with a few deep breaths, Tom eventually gives Bill a puzzled stare. “Sure. Okay. Whatever you want.”
He’s not the only one staring at Bill. I’m doing it too, only from the other side of a screen, my eyes widened in astonishment. Bill’s a liar. He WOULD do it again. An hour ago, he offered me just that. He would’ve sucked me off for a second time, and quite willingly too if I hadn’t I stopped him. He would have done it all on his own, without the reason or excuse of protecting or ‘saving’ his older brother because Tom wasn’t even there. Bill would have done it just because he wanted to, because he found the idea exciting. He’s withholding this information from Tom, not telling him what he really said to me back in the conference room and that’s as bad as lying. Considering they share everything, I didn’t think Bill would ever lie to his twin but here he is, doing it right now. Fascinating. Little Bill’s not such an angel, after all.
And I’m liking him more and more.
“So, you sure you’re okay, then?” Tom has to ask one more time, his dark-coffee eyes anxious and forehead wrinkled with concern, appearing every bit the big protective brother.
Bill smiles. “Yes, Tomi. I’m okay. Don’t you worry about me.” Then he steps forward and awards Tom a sweetly-given kiss, right on the cheek, soft and appreciative, stroking Tom’s jaw at the same time with feminine fingertips. That loving gesture seems to settle Tom’s worries somewhat.
Changing the topic completely, Bill flops on the couch and comments, “What do you think we’re having for dinner tonight? I’m hungry.”
“We only had lunch before you left!” Tom shakes his head incredulously. “I can’t believe you’re thinking of food again.”
“So?” Bill lights up a cigarette. “You gotta admit Koji feeds us well.”
Also lighting up a smoke and sitting sprawl-legged next to Bill, the dreadlocked teen replies drolly, “Yeah, he’s probably trying to fatten us up so he can carve steaks out of our ass cheeks and cook them for supper.”
The brunette boy crosses his legs, frowning at his brother. “That’s not funny, Tom.”
“I wasn’t joking,” Tom mumbles around the white filter held between his lips as he picks up the remote control and switches on the TV. “That’s exactly the kinda stuff psychos like him do to people. They’ll probably find bits of us in his freezer six months from now.”
Bill snorts smoke out of his nose. “He doesn’t want to kill us. If he did, he would have done so by now. Besides, he can’t get us to do twincest for him if we’re dead.”
Tom visibly shudders. “Gott, don’t say that word.”
“What? Twincest?”
“Yeah.” The elder Kaulitz squirms and pulls a face. “It makes me feel…dirty.”
After a moment of pondering, Bill admits, “Yeah, me too.” He suddenly gets up, stubbing out his cigarette butt. “I’m gonna go take a shower before dinner.”
Tom squints at Bill’s back as the thinner boy quickly disappears into the bathroom, shutting himself in. The sound of running water starts shortly. After a few seconds of staring at the closed door in puzzlement, Tom shrugs and turns back to the television, skipping through the channels for something vaguely appealing to watch.
Normally, I would not turn the bathroom camera on if Bill was just going to shower, as he said he was, but there’s something kind of suspiciously strange about the way he’s been acting just now and so I decide to check what he’s really getting up to in there. When the second screen in my booth flickers into life I see that he has indeed got the shower going but he’s not under it. He’s standing in front of the basin, staring at himself in the mirror above it. He turns his face from side to side, inspecting it from all angles. He touches his neck, his mouth; runs his fingertips around his lips, his expression both amazed and confused. It’s like he doesn’t even recognise who he’s looking at anymore. It’s as though he’s realising that he’s changing, becoming someone else, an unfamiliar, more mature adaptation of himself. With that same wondering look on his face, he gazes at his hand, slowly bringing it up to his nose and breathing in. He does it again, deeply this time, closing his eyes. It suddenly hits me what he’s doing and I get a shocking thrill.
He can still smell my scent on his fingers - the scent of my aftershave lotion, my skin, my hair. And he likes it.
I’m instantly filled with excitement, knowing that he’s thinking about me and how he touched my face and body. He enjoyed it. I know he did. Even though I didn’t allow him to touch my cock, I know he was aroused by our closeness. Just like he is now. I can see it in the mirror, in his way his cheeks flush with heat, the way he chews his lip, the way his jeans are getting tighter at the front. My own pants grow particularly restrictive when he brings his fingers back down and licks the tips of them, one after the other, the uppermost ball of his studded piercing glinting within the moistness of his mouth. Eyes back on himself, he sucks one of his fingers in to the main knuckle, hollowing his cheeks and leisurely drawing it out again, licking underneath the now-wet digit with his long, pointed tongue. Then he puts two fingers in, slowly moving them back and forth while drawing in his cheeks, seeing how it looks from different viewpoints. It’s like he’s pretending to suck on a dick. I wonder if it’s supposed to be mine. Another one of those hot thrills fizzes through my veins at the very thought.
When he’s done sucking his fingers, he realises that he’s still got my elastic hair-band looped around his wrist and snaps it off, sniffing it and hiding the black rubber circle in his make-up bag like some kind of Stockholm souvenir. I don’t mind if he keeps it. Bill then grabs his T-shirt and peels it over his head, shaking his dark mane out again and letting it settle over his bare shoulders, his streaked fringe falling across one eye. Without clothing to conceal his thinness, Bill’s collarbones stand out sharply beneath milky skin and there’s a long indented line that runs from the base of his throat, through the centre of his undeveloped pecs, right down to the top of his thumbprint-sized navel.
There are similar dented lines along each bony hip, one of which is decorated above with that graphic ink-star he’s made so famous. His nipples are delectably tiny and light flesh-pink in colour. The fingertips of his left hand go up to one of them, rubbing across the sensitive nub until it hardens, and then he gently pinches it with his nails, doing the same to the other nipple until they are both poking out erect. Looking in the mirror, Bill begins to caress his own body, running both hands over his chest and tight little belly, across his hips and around his tattoo. He traces the star with a black fingernail and then slides one hand over the front of his jeans. He cups and squeezes his own bulge, licking his top lip in anticipation.
In the viewing room I swear to myself; my groin has begun to ache with need. He turns me on so much, being so innocently seductive, but I refuse to touch myself while I’m secretly watching him. That would make me feel like some kind of deplorable sex-predator and I won’t do it.
But I can watch Bill touching himself. Despite the guilt I feel doing this, I simply can’t look away.
Unfastening his studded belt, removing his pants and shoes and slipping his boxer-briefs off to pool on the floor, Bill stands there naked in the bathroom, facing the mirror and assessing himself from top to toe, probably wondering if his skinnier build is alluring. Plenty of fans think so. I sure do, too. I’ve seen him with his shirt off before but this is the first time I’ve looked at him fully nude. He’s pale and thin but beautifully and elegantly designed, smooth and slender with a flat chest and straight waist. His ribs and hipbones are visible but not unhealthily so and his thighs are slim.
The only patch of hair on Bill’s body is over his pubic bone, blackish-brown and trimmed short and tidy. I’m mildly surprised to see that his cock is the same size as Tom’s. For some reason I imagined it smaller but it’s not. It’s exactly the same - handsomely thick and hard. He probably doesn’t even realise how big it is. For all their differing physical aspects – Tom’s dreadlocked hairstyle, bigger build and larger hands - this is one part of both of them that’s retained perfect twin-symmetry.
Still observing his every move, Bill ruffles through the neatly-kept thatch of dark pubes and then wraps five be-ringed fingers around his own stiffened male length, stroking along it and circling his thumb-pad around the dusky mauve tip. His feathered lashes fall closed for a few seconds, as if imagining it’s someone else touching him. He strokes himself for a little while longer, using his other hand to cradle his testicles and roll them in his palm. Arching his spine, he lets out a sigh of arousal. Careful not to bump his jutted dick on the cold porcelain sink, he turns around and peers over one narrow shoulder, checking out his rear view - his sleek back, lean legs and small, boyish bottom. He seems to think he looks all right too, judging by the way his hand slides down over one taut buttock, lips curling in a satisfied smirk.
“That’s right, baby,” I say with an approving murmur, not that Bill can hear or see me in my sound-proofed media booth. “You DO have a sweet ass.”
I’d love to have a taste of it but sadly, all that sweetness belongs to Tom. Or it would, if Tom’d only stop being such a thick-headed idiot and just claim what’s rightfully his.
Since he hasn’t reached that realisation yet, Tom sits sprawled on the couch outside, unproductively channel-surfing while his brother’s sweet untouched ass turns around in front of the mirror again, Bill facing it full on. Lifting his leg, he places one foot on the edge of the sink, revealing his puckered opening, tiny and baby-pink. He studies it, strokes over the area a few times, watching the ring of muscle tense at the contact. I’m surprised by how casually he does this. He’s obviously looked at himself here before, and touched it too. He presses the pad of his fingertip against his delicate dimple but doesn’t go any further, probably worried about the length of his nails and potentially hurting himself inside. The young singer’s eyes dart around as if searching for something, finally grabbing a medium sized brush out of his make-up bag, one used for applying powder or blending blusher. He looks at it, inspecting its length and width. It has a thickish, clear plastic handle with a round, blunt end. It looks like glass but isn’t.
“Oh no, Bill - you aren’t,” I whisper to myself in disbelief, shocked and greatly excited by where this appears to be going.
And Bill goes there. He squirts body lotion on the handle of the brush, getting it coated with the slippery moisturizing substance. He takes the rounded tip and rubs it over his closed entrance, spreading the white cream around before pressing against the most private part of his body, coercing it to open up and accept the plastic object. As he penetrates himself with it, Bill’s arched eyebrows knit together in slightly pained expression and he hisses in a breath through clenched teeth. I don’t think it’s hurting him, though, or he wouldn’t be doing it. He just keeps inserting the handle bit by bit until all you can see is the tuft of black bristles on the end. Relaxing, Bill takes his hand and spreads two fingers either side of his stretched opening, using his internal muscles to slowly push the lotion-covered make-up brush back out again, centimetre by centimetre. With the way his eyelashes lower, he really seems to enjoy that feeling, and the sight of it too. The drip of pre-come that oozes from the end of his dick and trickles down his stiff shaft proves how much. He moans quietly when the brush pops out and falls into the sink, his widened hole swiftly closing up again.
Fuck. This is better than any porn I’ve ever watched in my life, better than any threesome I’ve ever participated in. I could just about come in my jeans right now but I manage to contain myself. I’m more interested in seeing Bill come – what faces he makes, what sounds will escape his luscious lips…
With one palm braced against the side edge of the bathroom bench for balance, the nineteen year old vocalist takes control of his improvised sex toy and inserts it once more, smoothly working the slick clear plastic in and out of his rear passage, watching everything he’s doing with lustfully dilated pupils. When Tom touched himself in here, it was in the dark, surreptitiously and furtively. Shamefully. He got it over with as quickly as possible. But Bill’s doing it with the light on, looking at his own reflection, taking his time and openly enjoying it. He’s essentially getting off on himself. The fact that he has no shame about it just makes it even hotter.
How this kid can be a virgin is beyond me. He definitely doesn’t act like one, at least not when he’s alone like this. It’s apparent that he’s thought about being fucked before and has almost certainly inserted other things into his body for experimentation. I’m guessing he even has a vibrator or dildo hidden at home that he uses to get off, when Tom’s not there to hear him.
Though I might have initially inspired his devilish mood, I don’t think Bill is picturing me anymore, not with the way his slitted, sultry gaze keeps flicking over to the bathroom door, in the direction of where his brother is sitting outside. I believe he’s thinking of Tom right now as he’s pleasuring himself, Bill’s face displaying a mixture of anxiously anticipated arousal, as if he is terrified of his dreadlocked sibling bursting in and discovering him mid-masturbation with a make-up brush up his butt and yet partially hoping that will actually happen. Perhaps if Tom saw his twin in dire need of a good fucking, he might get turned-on enough to help and offer the use of a real cock instead of a plastic substitute.
I would dearly love for that to happen but unless Tom can read Bill’s mind through the door or pick up on his twin’s silent sexual desires, we’ll all be waiting forever. Oblivious to the awesomely hot reality show I’m watching, Tom is still on the couch clicking through the movie channels on the television, looking bored. He must be used to Bill staying the in bathroom for hours - shaving, plucking, exfoliating and prettying himself up and has no idea what his wicked little brother is really doing in there at this moment.
The steam from the running shower finally fogs up the mirror too much. With a noise of disappointment, Bill removes his ‘toy’ and takes his leg down from the vanity top. The younger Kaulitz twin steps into the shower cubicle, taking the blusher-brush with him and rinsing it off before laying it on the edge of the soap holder, its bristles wet and clumped together. Bill ducks under the spray of water, soaking his hair and slicking it back off his forehead using both hands, revealing his delicately formed ears, graceful white throat and upturned face. His eye makeup runs like black tears and washes away. With his long dark bangs out of the way, I get an unobstructed view of the heart-stopping exquisiteness of his facial structure. Bill’s features are so finely sculpted and shaped; his nose straight and perfect, cheekbones high and brow bones arched to perfection, the defined angular line of his jaw and chin like something created by the world’s most skilled plastic surgeon, only this is all completely natural. He truly is one of the prettiest young men I’ve ever seen. And one of the sexiest.
He hasn’t finished stimulating himself yet, the root of his maleness still swollen and his seed unreleased. I wonder what it looks like – thin and watery or thick and creamy. I wonder if he has a little or a lot. If it’s anything like Tom’s, it’ll be the latter, especially if Bill hasn’t jerked off in a while. Grabbing the powder brush, my sexy German captive kneels on the floor of the shower cubicle, one hand wrapping around his engorged manhood, the second hand going around behind his back and reaching down to search for his entrance again, prodding it with the rounded tip.
When he finds it and pushes the glass-like length back in, Bill jolts and his lips part in a soft cry that’s drowned out by the noise of the shower. He must be thinking it’s a cock inside him, although whose cock he’s imagining I can’t tell. I’m betting it’s Tom’s, though. His head tilts back under the spray of water, eyes shut tight, the experimental musician breathing through his mouth in fast panting gasps. While he’s using the makeshift phallic object on himself, I can see his bent arm and wrist pressing forward and back again, knuckles and veins standing out beneath the fine skin over the back of his hand. He leans forward on his knees to allow deeper access, the shower raining down upon his naked back, and I catch glimpses of smooth, clear plastic sliding in and out behind him as he fucks himself in the ass. His other hand is tugging and pulling on his dick in an almost absent manner, too focused on what’s happening behind him and how good it’s making him feel.
The thought of being screwed in such a manner must excite this teenager tremendously because he shoves the brush in as far as it will go, right up to the bristles, making his whole body stiffen. The fist around his shaft tightens and Bill comes, explosively ejecting everywhere on the shower floor in front of him. His fluids have the consistency of thickened milk or runny yoghurt, rapidly breaking down and dissolving under the shower. There is a lot of it, gushing out in surges. As he’s orgasming, Bill gives a silent scream, lips pulling back to bare his white teeth and jaw dropping to reveal the silver ball of his piercing, sitting in the centre of his tongue. The agonized look of pleasure on Bill’s face is utterly, breathtakingly beautiful.
When he has no more semen to give, he falls forward onto his hands, shuddering as the plastic handle slips out of him. He makes a sound very much like a sob. Water pours down over the back of his head and trickles down his face, making it hard to tell if he’s actually crying or not. He makes that sobbing sound again, only this time it forms a single word.
“Tomi…”
- 14
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Captivation