Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

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
- 19
- 20
- 21
Staring at everything in the room with their jaws hanging open, it’s obvious that this is the last thing the two German musicians expected to see. They look at each other with incredulous disbelief as a jukebox sparks into life, filling the space with upbeat music, on top of the sound of video games cycling through their opening sequences. The first one to move is Bill. A wide beam of delight lights up his face and he runs around in circles, checking out all the cool stuff and clapping in sheer childish excitement.
“Thank you, Koji!” he yells out. “This is AWESOME!”
I smile to myself, unable to communicate with them in there. But I’m glad he approves. It seems Tom does too, mainly at the amount of alcohol I’ve supplied them.
“Dude,” he says in total seriousness, going over to the tub of drinks and gazing reverently into it like it’s a pot of gold. “I am getting SO fucking wasted tonight.”
With that proclamation, he grabs the first can of beer within reach, cracks it open and chugs it down like water, head thrown back and throat working in thirsty swallows. I guess he’s finally gotten over his irrational fear of me poisoning them. Either that or he’s really, really missed his alcohol. Letting out a huge burp, he crumples the can, tosses it onto the floor and fetches another one, only belatedly remembering to hand one to his sibling as well. Giving an exuberant grin, Bill clunks his can against Tom’s, both of them saying, “Cheers,” in unison before gulping down the golden liquid.
From here on in, it’s a party. In between getting drunk as fast as they can, the boys make full use of the amenities I’ve provided for them, competing in car-racing and street-fighting games against virtual opponents, shooting computer-generated zombies with plastic guns and pummelling each other in the inflatable boxing ring with oversized gloves, jumping on it with socked feet as though it’s a bouncy castle. They’re very competitive and keep trying to win or outdo the other. Sometimes Tom wins, sometimes Bill wins and sometimes Tom just lets his little brother win to keep him happy. To sustain their energy, they stuff their mouths with candy, ice cream and popcorn. The two teens play in the ball pit, throwing them at each other, Tom sticking a couple of balls down his top and pretending he has boobs. Bill puts them down his pants as if they’re big testicles, both of the boys giggling like pre-schoolers at their own immaturity.
I believe this is the first time I’ve heard them do that in here, laugh so impulsively and spontaneously. It suits the twins, especially Tom. He should definitely do it more. When he’s laughing or grinning, his cheeks look like little round apples and his eyes go all squinty, so that you can’t even see them anymore, like he’s just smoked a bagful of weed and gotten totally stoned. It’s so cutely dorky.
Though Bill can appear exactly the same on occasions, more often than not the younger one’s eyes and mouth will pop wide open when he bursts into laughter, his brows lifting skyward and causing his forehead to line, looking as though he’s surprised and highly amused at the same time, especially if it’s at something naughty or witty that Tom has just said. When he laughs that way, Bill opens his mouth that far that you can see his tongue ring and almost every single one of his white, perfectly straight dental veneers. Tom’s teeth aren’t so perfect or even but that’s part of his charm - he doesn’t care if they’re slightly irregular or that his canines are noticeably sharp and pointy, like little fangs. Bill’s smile is movie-star stunning and flawless but Tom’s is completely natural and because it doesn’t happen that often, it seems a lot more striking and special to me. Bill’s good at faking and posing for the camera but when Tom smiles, you can tell he really means it.
And tonight, he’s smiling so much his face must be starting to hurt.
Tom steps out of the ball-pit (a couple of red and yellow plastic spheres dropping out of his pants-leg and rolling across the floor) and heads over to the digital jukebox, which has just been playing tunes randomly. He searches through the selections to find a hip-hop song he likes.
“Yeah! Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” he enthuses, emulating the spoken words coming out of the speakers and dancing like a rapper - hunching over, clutching his crotch and making gangsta signs with his hands and fingers.
Scrunching up his face in distaste, Bill complains, “What is this noise?”
“Chakuza.” At Bill’s blank look, Tom exclaims, “Oh, come on. You know who Chakuza is! I listen to him all the time!”
“I don’t care who it is,” the younger male answers in annoyance. “This is utter crap! Change the song.”
“It’s not crap!” Tom protests. “You just have no taste.”
“I have more taste than you. Change the song, Tom,” Bill stipulates, crossing his arms.
“No.”
“Change it!”
Tom just gives Bill the middle finger. Bill responds by giving him back two, both hands at the same time, and defiantly sticking out his pierced tongue for good measure.
Cheekily ignoring his smaller sibling, Tom keeps rapping and posturing in front of the jukebox. To show his displeasure, Bill hurls plastic balls at him, the coloured spheres bouncing lightly off Tom’s back and head.
“Tom, pay attention to me!” Bill whines, hating it when he’s ignored.
Tom doesn’t, chanting something about Chicken McNuggets, part of the super-fast German rap lyrics. If this was all in English, there’s no way he’d be able to keep up.
Sick of being treated as though he’s unimportant, Bill huffs, going up to fight with Tom over the jukebox buttons. Pushing his bigger brother out of the way, Bill smacks Tom’s hands aside and cancels the song, finding another tune.
“Britney Spears?” Tom groans as it begins. “Please, kill me now.”
“You used to like her, Tom,” comes the reminder.
“No, I liked her BODY,” the other boy emphasises. “I never liked her music. It sucks.”
“Well, I’ve always liked it. So screw you.”
Bill starts singing along to the song he’s picked, dancing with jerky little movements, disregarding Tom’s unimpressed headshake and heavenward-raised eyes.
“Oops, I did it again…I played with your heart, got lost in the game…”
He’s no Britney, and he certainly can’t dance like her, but the sound of Bill crooning in accented English, “Oh baby, baby,” is somewhat arousing. Tom must think so too because he doesn’t interrupt Bill, at least not until the brunette gets to the end of the chorus, his octave lifting a fair bit higher, sounding like it’s coming out of his nose.
“You think I'm in love… That I'm sent from abo-o-o-ove… I'm not that innocent!”
“For fuck’s sakes, Bill, you sound like shit!” Tom has to interject condescendingly. “You can’t even hit the notes. As usual.”
The slimmer twin looks offended. “I don’t miss notes.”
“Yeah, you do. All the time. Does this sound familiar?” Here Tom launches into a screeching, out of tune, “There’s no re-EEEEAL love in you,” sounding like a thirteen year old kid whose voice is just breaking as he enters puberty.
“Shut up! I do NOT sound like that.”
Smirking, Tom continues his insults. “Face it, Bill. You’re a terrible singer. You suck and everyone knows it. The only reason people come to our shows is to see me, Georg and Gustav. You know, real men with real muscles? But most of all they come to witness my god-like guitar skills.”
“You’re such an ass, Tom.”
“Least I have an ass.” Tom gestures to Bill’s low-slung waistband, above which a strip of underwear is starting to show. “Yours is so damn flat and bony, your jeans can’t even stay up.”
Arching an insulted brow, Bill flings back, “Are you calling me scrawny AND a bad singer?” He hits Tom on the shoulder. “Some fucking nice brother you are!”
Bill keeps hitting him and in the midst of ducking and blocking, Tom starts to laugh and runs away. Revealing that naturally appealing teen-vamp grin, Tom dashes athletically around the room, trying not to get punched. Bill chases after him, hell-bent on retaliation. Despite his increasingly drunken state, Tom moves with fit sure-footedness, leaping over obstacles like an Olympic hurdler while the skinnier teen repeatedly proves how ungainly and uncoordinated he is. Bill stumbles over an electrical cord on the floor, bangs his shin on the barrier around the racing car game and clips his shoulder on the popcorn machine. Every time he trips or hurts himself, he swears like a German sailor and Tom laughs even harder. With his long legs and arms, Bill can be physically awkward at the best of times but it gets worse when he’s been drinking. Much worse.
For Bill’s own safety, Tom decides to lead him up onto the bouncy boxing ring, providing a much softer surface for Bill to be clumsy on. Bill tries to tackle Tom but misses by a mile, falling flat on his face. Tom points and chortles. When the first teen clambers back to his feet with a put-out pout on his pretty face, Tom does an almost graceful dive across the ring and tackles Bill headfirst, knocking him over again. Bill yells in indignation. Tussling on the inflated piece of equipment, the boys try to outmanoeuvre each other, pretending to do all these exaggerated grappling and fighting moves. Grunting and growling like a pro-wrestler with steroid-rage, Tom mimes elbow-drops and body-slams, displaying his strength and overpowering Bill but without actually hurting him. All the moves are done lightly and with play-violence, the deadlocked boy scooping his lighter brother up in his more muscular arms and throwing him back down again in a tumble of lanky limbs and long hair, bouncing Bill harmlessly off the canvas floor of the ring.
“It is useless to resist, skinny little grasshopper,” Tom dramatically declares in an atrocious Asian accent. “I am Koji, crazy Kung-fu master, and you will bow at my feet or I snap you in half like flimsy bamboo stalk!”
Unable to fight Tom off, Bill dissolves into helpless laughter as he’s being picked up and tossed around with such casual ease, thinking it great fun. Chuckling to myself in amusement, I watch the two of them messing around, enjoying these light-hearted, jesting brotherly antics of theirs. I don’t even mind that they’re making fun of me. It’s flattering, actually, being compared to a Kung-fu master. Or a ninja. It means they think I’m strong, fast and deadly. Which, I am, of course. But tonight’s not about me. It’s about them so I sit back and watch the twins without interrupting.
Tom began the wrestling with a determined, mock-serious expression on but once he hears Bill laughing, the older twin can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. I totally understand why. Bill has a very unique and delightful laugh. It’s like an explosion of bubbles, breathy and high in pitch, sounding as though he’s sucked in a balloon full of helium beforehand. It’s just too cute for words.
Some people change personality when they’ve had too much to drink. Some want to start arguments, destroy property or beat somebody up. Some get sad or emotional. Some get horny. Some are just plain pathetic. With these two, Tom gets all relaxed, humorous and affectionately playful and Bill turns into a giggly, hyper kid. They’re hilarious and adorable.
“No…no, don’t!” Bill yelps between squeaks and giggles as Tom is flipping him over and jabbing him in all his ticklish bits – ribs, sides, tight little belly. “Stop… Tom, stop it! Let me go!”
“Never! You’re my captive and I’m going to torture you forever now! Mwahahahaa…”
Tom’s evil cackle is fantastic and makes me adore him even more. As they’re rolling around together, Bill laughingly trying to escape the clutches of a grinning, poking Tom, they somehow end up in a position where Tom is between Bill’s legs, lying on top of his slimmer sibling. Tom has captured Bill’s thin arms and is holding them flat against the floor of the boxing ring, either side of Bill’s head. Tom has his tongue out and is trying to stick it into Bill’s ear, Bill turning his face aside with his eyes scrunched up, screeching at him not to do that because it’s gross and disgusting. Taking pity on his smaller, weaker brother, Tom laughs and draws back, while Bill turns his head around to scold him, even though he’s half-laughing himself.
Their faces are very close together, both of their smiles dying as they suddenly realise what a dangerously provocative pose they’re in, lying together like this. Tom still has hold of Bill’s wrists, pinning them down, while his bulkier body pins Bill in place, hip to hip. It’s just like that time they were wrestling on the bed, only now they’re not fighting or angry. They stare at each other, frozen with awareness.
“Kiss him, Tom,” I murmur to the screen I’m watching, on the edge of my seat with anticipation. “God, please kiss him…”
Pulling himself away, Tom announces in a slurred tone, “I need another drink.”
“Get me one too,” Bill orders, struggling to sit up on the bouncy boxing ring as Tom crawls to the side and swings his legs over it.
“Get it yourself.”
“No! You do it for me.”
“I’m not your servant, Bill. Come and get it yourself, you lazy bum.”
Tom starts pulling his bossy brother over by the ankle, Bill giggling and protesting as his shirt slides up. Too tempted by the sight of that bare belly, Tom swoops down, fastens his lips on it and blows a big, loud raspberry, making Bill squeal and flail his feet as he tries to get Tom off him, pushing at the heavier teen’s dreadlocked head with both hands.
“Tom, don’t…nooooo,” he laughs uncontrollably. “Your whiskers are prickly - you’re like a cactus!”
“I know,” Tom grinningly returns, diving in for another go, deliberately rubbing his stubbled face on Bill’s sensitive tummy afterwards.
“Stop…please!” Bill is panting and crying with laughter at the same time. “Oh God, my stomach muscles hurt!”
Lifting his head, Tom deadpans, “Well, don’t laugh so much.”
“Well, stop tickling me!”
Tom smirks. “But you’re so easy to tickle.”
Pouting, Bill tries to kick Tom but the older one ducks out of the way. Pulling his top back down, Bill stands up on the floor, wobbling drunkenly on his feet. He starts to stagger sideways but Tom hurriedly grabs his arm and steadies him before he can tumble onto his ass.
“Look at you. You’re so trashed you can’t even walk straight,” Tom says, clicking his tongue scoldingly. He turns and presents Bill with his back, shoving his dreads over one shoulder. “Here. Hop on before you fall over and break your leg.”
Grinning, Bill puts his hands on Tom’s shoulders and then leaps up, jumping clumsily onto his bigger brother’s back. Reaching behind him, Tom grips Bill’s slim thighs, shifting him up into a better position, Bill wrapping his legs around Tom’s middle and his arms around Tom’s neck, holding on for the ride. Showing how strong he is, Tom carries his long-haired sibling across the room to the icebox, Bill clearly loving being piggybacked if the lopsided smile on his face is anything to go by. Tom probably hasn’t carried him like this since they were little kids.
When they reach the icebox, Tom sets Bill down. In an effort to show off further, the guitarist attempts to juggle three cans of beer at once. Of course, he drops one and the ring-pull pops half open, spurting foam all over the floor. Instead of worrying about whether I’ll charge him to get the carpet cleaned, Tom exclaims in dismay, “Damn. What a waste of good beer!”
Then he shrugs, tosses the two good cans at Bill, picks the foaming one back up off the floor and chugs what’s left inside it, white froth dribbling down his chin and throat, soaking into the neckband of his baggy shirt. He unconcernedly wipes it away with his sleeve, flicking some off his hand at Bill, who immediately squawks about it landing in his hair. Tom just grins and flicks over more foam. Beer on the floor, beer on Tom’s shirt and beer in Bill’s hair. I bet that room smells like a brewery right now. Shortly after that, they have a popcorn fight, Tom stuffing handfuls of it down Bill’s top and Bill smooshing kernels into Tom’s dreads. Again, there’s much squealing, yelling and laughter.
They seem to have discovered a new favourite song, Jack Black’s comedic rock number Fuck Her Gently, programming it to play frequently on the jukebox. Every time it comes on, they rush over to the boxing ring and madly jump around on it, gleefully wailing along to the filthy lyrics.
“I'm gonna fuck you softly... I'm gonna screw you gently. I'm gonna hump you sweetly, I'm gonna ball you discreetly...”
As they sing, they’re half-bouncing, half-miming the motions of banging somebody, Tom in particular acting out different sex positions, since he knows more of them than Bill does, the older teen humping one of the inflatable posts nearby.
“And then I'll fucking bone you completely...But then I'm gonna fuck you hard! Haaa-AAAA-ARD!”
The last part they scream at the top of their lungs. I’m not sure if they’re doing it so that I can hear what a great time they’re having or they’re just enjoying being rambunctious teenagers and letting their hair down. Literally. Tom’s cap came off long ago and his lengthy dreadlocks swing free and wild, making him look like some kind of jungle-kid who’s moved to the city.
As that song ends and the next begins, Tom is still dancing dirtily. He mimes doggy style while holding a woman’s hips, and then the same with no hands (putting them smugly behind his head), finally licking his middle finger and pretending to stick it in his imaginary lover’s ass.
“Oh, Tom!” Bill gasps in laughing disapproval.
“What?” Tom sounds nonchalant. “You’ve never stuck your finger in a girl’s butthole before?”
“I’ve never stuck anything in a girl’s anything before.” The younger boy wrinkles his nose at the idea. “I wouldn’t do that anyway.”
“You should. It’s fun.” Tom grins, continuing the motion of fingering his invisible partner before lewdly running his whole finger under his nose, sniffing it. Bill’s mouth drops open.
“TOM! That’s revolting!”
“No, it’s not. Here, smell it.”
Recoiling at Tom’s outthrust finger, Bill exclaims in horror, “Get that away from me!”
Grinning evilly, Tom chases after a fleeing, shrieking Bill, Tom trying to touch his little brother’s face with that ‘dirty’ finger, even though there’s actually nothing on it.
Cornering Bill near the jukebox, Tom attempts to get through Bill’s slapping hands, eventually calling it quits, the older teen chuckling to himself.
“Such a virgin.”
“Shut up,” Bill objects, giving Tom a retaliating shove. “You’re just vulgar.”
“That’s my middle name,” Tom absently answers, scrolling through the song list on the jukebox’s screen. “Oh, Freestyler! Kickass!”
Cancelling the current song, he punches that one in, looking pleased when the familiar opening sounds of the Bomfunk MCs most popular tune vibrate through the speakers. Tom would have been ten, eleven when this came out but to him it’s still just as cool now as it was then. Turning up the volume, he begins grooving along with it, doing his signature hip-hop moves: first jumping up and down and raising the roof with his hands, and then standing still and moving his arms in a waving, weaving motion in front of him. Despite his crude gestures earlier, he’s actually a great dancer with a spot-on sense of rhythm, settling right into the bass. He mostly dances with his upper body – chest, shoulders, arms, hands and wrists moving in flowing sync. He bops his head with the beat, his hips even joining in on occasion. His style is quite lyrical and liquid, not so much hard-hitting popping or locking, even though he could do that too.
“Fuck that kid in the film clip,” he denounces, making a dismissive gangsta gesture. “I was the original Freestyler!”
Bill giggles, watching his big brother showing off.
“Yeah, straight from the top of my dome,” Tom raps along, doing full, fluid body-rolls, from chest to hip. “As I rock, rock, rock the, rock the, rock the microphone…”
Echoing my thoughts, Bills comments enviously, “You’re a really good dancer, Tom. Wish I could do that.”
“Well, you can’t. Because I’m the best,” Tom decrees arrogantly.
Bill tries to copy Tom’s sexy body-rolls but only manages to look like a vomiting seal. After he fails to master hip-hop, Bill starts dancing in his own strange, disjointed style, swinging his skinny hips from side to side while raising his arms and pumping his fists in the air. He lifts the front of his shirt and flashes his flat belly at Tom, along with his star hip-tattoo, a move that is guaranteed to get a thousand fangirls squealing in unison, especially when he wiggles the fingers of his other hand in a gesture of encouragement and enticement. Beyond such an immature reaction, and having seen it all before, Tom simply raises one unaffected eyebrow, although he can’t help taking a quick glimpse downward at the flash of revealed flesh before Bill pokes his tongue out and coyly covers up again.
“You are such a dork,” Tom drawls. “I can’t believe an awesome guy like me ended up with a dorky little brother who can’t sing OR dance. Lucky you can write song lyrics or I’d fire your useless ass.”
“I wonder if Koji can dance,” Bill blurts out of nowhere, surprising and thrilling me. “I bet he can. He’s very graceful. Very elegant. He moves like a…like a big cat.”
Tom coughs loudly, disguising the word “Stockholm” in it. Bill glares at him.
“WHAT did you say?”
“Nothing,” Tom replies with all the wide-eyed innocence of a fuzzy little Puli puppy - a Hungarian sheepdog with long dreadlocks. “I didn’t say anything.”
Bill narrows his gaze and then chooses to ignore the childish comment, busying himself with picking new tunes. He selects another Britney song, singing along.
“Womanizer, womanizer, you’re a womanizer, ohh…” He glances impertinently to his brother, grinning like a devil. “Aren’t you, Tom? You’re a womanizer.”
“Am not! People just think that.” Tom shrugs, tossing a piece of candy he got out of the gumball machine into his mouth. “Beats me why, though. I’ve slept with remarkably less women than everyone believes I have.”
“Come on, you know it’s true,” Bill teases. “You’re a man-skank who can’t keep his big dick in his big, baggy pants.”
“Whatever. You’re the skank, flashing your tattoo to everyone on stage.”
Just to be annoying, Bill does it again, only raising his shirt higher this time, to let Tom see one of his nipples. Though he snorts in fake-disgust, Tom does not fail to notice it, his gaze quickly dropping to the tiny circled peak of pink before just-as-quickly glancing away and rolling his eyes.
Bill notices the glance too.
And likes it. He grins wickedly, the tip of his studded tongue peeping out between his teeth, curling up to touch his top lip and revealing the back of his piercing – a small silver bead anchored on the underside of the agile strawberry-coloured flesh, holding the barbell in place.
Provocatively, Bill steps up closer to Tom and puts a hand on his broad shoulder, using his older brother as a substitute pole and beginning to dance around him. Now that he’s actually got a purpose, his dancing isn’t awkward or clumsy; instead it’s slow, calculated and teasing, Bill’s hips swaying enticingly, drawing attention to his slim waist and what lies below it.
All Tom’s mocking humour vanishes as he’s treated to this very seductive show, like a bachelor in a club being favoured by an exotic pole-dancer. Only he’s the pole and the exotic dancer is his own twin brother.
Shoving Bill’s hand away, he mutters, “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Acting like a whore.”
“But you like whores. And they like you.” The brunette slowly licks his lips, eyeing off his brother’s masculine body. “I nearly did it again, you know.”
“Did what?” Tom asks with a frown.
“Kissed Koji. Not on the mouth…” Here, Bill’s hungry gaze drops to Tom’s groin. “Downstairs.”
Beginning to understand what Bill is saying, Tom exclaims, “Oh, you did NOT!”
“I almost did. Last night, while you were sleeping. But he wouldn’t let me.” Bill leans in to whisper in a secretive manner, “I would have though, Tomi. I would have sucked him off and let him come in my mouth.”
“Dear God,” the older teen exhales in horror, stepping backwards towards a wall. Tom looks thoroughly appalled, staring at his brother as though he’s a complete stranger. “What the hell is happening to you, Bill?”
“Nothing. I’m just growing up, that’s all. You can’t keep me a kid forever.” Bill gives a careless shrug. “Besides, I already told you I was bisexual. That’s what bi-guys do.”
“I know, but…” Tom doesn’t understand his twin’s words and it pains him, as though he’s been betrayed. “He’s our enemy. He’s evil! Why would you want to do that to HIM?”
A scheming smile slips over Bill’s lips. “Because I think I’d like it. I’d like having that power over Koji, to hold his pleasure in the palm of my hand. I nearly made him lose control the first time. I could feel him struggling not to move or say anything. If he let me do it again, I bet I could make him weak and whimpering and begging. I bet I could make him completely and utterly…”
He steps forward and trails a suggestive finger down Tom’s stomach. “Helpless.”
Actually appearing afraid of Bill now, Tom presses back further against the wall, trying to get away, but he’s got nowhere to go.
“I bet I could make YOU feel that way too…brother,” Bill breathes in a sinfully-laden promise, eyes smouldering like blackened coals. “Wanna find out?”
Tom gulps. “Bill, don’t…”
The brunette doesn’t listen, just slides his slender thigh up against Tom’s thicker one.
“It’s okay if you’re attracted to me, Tom,” he says softly. “It’s in our blood. It’s supposed to happen.”
Jerkily, Tom shakes his head. “I’m not attracted to you.”
“Don’t deny it. I’ve seen you looking at me. You think I’m sexy.”
“I think you’re drunk. And you don’t know what you’re even talking about.”
“Yeah, I do,” Bill insists. “We’re the same person; I feel what you feel. Only difference is, I’m not afraid to tell you.”
Pressing closer against Tom’s tall form, Bill rubs his hip into the second male’s crotch area.
“I think you’re sexy, Tom,” he purrs. “So, now that I’ve said it, just say it back to me.”
Tom clenches his jaw. “No.”
“Say it, you chicken,” Bill taunts. “Say it, say it, say it…”
“Shut up!” Tom explodes, roughly pushing Bill’s mocking figure away from him. “I swear, you’re gonna get yourself into serious fucking trouble one day, Bill.”
“Why?”
“Because of the way you look at people. The way you behave. Guys can only take that shit for so long, you know.”
Bill blinks in alcohol-affected perplexity. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re too damn seductive for your own damn good!” Infuriated that he’s been forced to admit this, Tom shoves his black-haired brother back in the direction of the boxing ring, one jabbing palm-heel to the chest with each growled sentence.
“You’re a tempting…”
Shove.
“Teasing…”
Shove.
“Hot little bitch…”
Shove.
“And everyone wants to fuck you!”
With one more savage push Bill stumbles backwards and lands on the floor on the inflatable boxing ring. Rather than be upset by what Tom said or did, the younger boy just looks excited.
“What about you?” Bill prompts invitingly, gazing up at his furiously shaking twin. “Do you want to fuck me too, Tomi? Because you can. I’ll even suck your dick first if you like.”
Climbing onto the bouncy piece of play equipment, Tom angrily straddles his smaller sibling, grabbing a fistful of Bill’s ebony hair and yanking his head up.
“You,” Tom snarls disgustedly into the other one’s face. “Are nothing but a filthy little slut.”
And then he crashes his mouth down upon Bill’s, kissing him hard.
- 19
- 20
- 21
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Captivation