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Improvisation	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 1721 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Georg Listing, Tom Kaulitz, Bill Kaulitz or any members of Tokio Hotel. This story is a complete work of fiction and not true. I don't own this fandom am not making any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 23
- 24
- 25
Emerging from his mute stupor, Georg exclaims, “Tom, of course I want to! It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“So let’s do it, then.” Tom inclines his head towards the rear of the trailer, where the bed is. “C’mon.”

When Georg is slow to get moving, Tom grabs his arm and drags him into the bedroom. Half in shock, Georg allows himself to be led along like a dog on a lead, his footfalls plodding, as if he’s sleepwalking. Tom perches on the edge of the queen-sized mattress and his dark brown eyes follow Georg as the other actor sinks down next to him in a daze. Tom gazes at Georg expectantly. Georg stares back. His body is urging him to move but he remains motionless, still trying to wrap his mind around what Tom is saying. After all the times Georg begged for it and Tom turned him down, the kid is saying that he’s actually going to let it happen. He’s going to give Georg what he’s been asking for. Tonight. Right now. Tom is saying yes. He’s making their relationship official and he’s going to make love with Georg.

The older male is so stunned, he has no clue what to do next.

A humorous half-smile touches Tom’s lips. “You could start by kissing me. You haven’t forgotten how, have you?”

“Right. Kissing. I know how to do that,” Georg states, shoving the condom in his pocket and centering his energies and attention on the boy beside him. He leans in, placing a hand on Tom’s shoulder. Just before their lips touch, Georg falters and pulls back, a slight frown on his face.

“Does this mean we’ll be moving in together? Because I might need a bigger place.”

“Georg,” Tom says impatiently, “do you want to have sex with me or would you rather discuss living arrangements and circle vacant apartments in the newspapers?”

“Yeah, we can talk about that later,” Georg quickly replies, deciding that he’d much rather be having sex. He leans back in and kisses his blond boyfriend, feeling unusually nervous, as though he and Tom have only just met. They have been intimate before but they are about to get even closer - as close as two people can ever get - and Georg is very aware that this occasion is something truly special, something that will have a lasting and unforgettable impact on them both. It’s like a priceless, valuable gift that neither of them will ever get again so he aims to make sure it’s perfect, moving his lips over Tom’s with sensual slowness, not wanting to rush the event. Georg’s fingers curl in Tom’s long hair and the younger boy answers the kiss, his mouth opening to Georg, his tongue seeking out its partner. Hearing Georg’s groan of response, Tom’s hands go up to cup the man’s angular jaw, feeling the movement of muscles under the tanned skin as Georg kisses him, their tongues gliding together, circling, exploring, one set of lips pierced, the other not.

By now, the two actors know each other’s responses well and as they kiss they allow themselves to drift into the blissful state of growing arousal, their eyes closed, breathing quickening, pulses thrumming, their bodies beginning to hum with a static charge. Georg releases Tom’s mouth and moves his seeking lips across the boy’s face, kissing Tom’s cheekbone, his temple, his brow, his hair, inhaling the sweet-scented threads of brownish-gold. He nuzzles the tender flesh under Tom’s ear, catching the lobe between his teeth, his tongue toying with the plastic ring there. Letting out a soft moan, Tom tips his head back, arching and offering his alabaster throat, slipping his fingers into Georg’s short brown locks and holding him there, relishing the feel of the other man’s moist, warm mouth on his skin, suckling, tasting, nibbling.

Georg finds the hollow at the base of Tom’s throat, between his collarbones, licking at the salty skin there. A rapid pulse beats under his lips and he craves more, the taste of the teenager like ambrosia. The musk of Tom’s cologne swims in Georg’s head, affecting him as if it were chloroform, dizzying him. He wants to drown in the boy, drink him in, breathe him in, like water, like smoke, like life-sustaining oxygen, until his lungs are filled, until he can smell and taste nothing else.

With one urgent, fluid motion, he takes Tom’s shirt and peels it upward, up over the kid’s arms and head, carelessly tossing it to the floor. He pushes Tom back onto the bed. The teen’s dark gaze stays on Georg’s hands as they seize Tom’s belt, flipping the end of it through the silver buckle and then unzipping the fly of his loose jeans. Black boxer shorts are underneath. Georg’s fingers draw the clothing down past Tom’s hips, along his thighs and legs, peeling off two socks along the way, the articles of attire eventually joining the discarded shirt on the carpet. Georg eyes off the boy’s nude form, visually taking in the human artwork that is Tom.

“I want to kiss you all over,” Georg murmurs, leaning down and letting his hands trace all that slim youthful beauty, his mouth soon following, starting with Tom’s left arm. He takes the boy’s hand and smothers it with kisses, moving up to his wrist and his forearm, kissing so reverently and tenderly that Tom is nearly whimpering by the time Georg does the other arm and moves onto his chest, his lips soft and loving, almost delicate.

“Georg, c’mon,” Tom chokes out, unable to take any more of the unbearable gentleness that the second man is bestowing upon him. “Please, I can’t-”

His plea is stifled when Georg’s open mouth affixes to one of his nipples, scorching like a branding iron. Tom gasps, arcing upwards, fingers clenching in Georg’s hair. He gasps again as Georg’s tongue flicks against his sensitive flesh, sending a white-hot flash through his chest and down into his stomach and loins, desire rising within him the way clouds gather before a storm: collecting, building, saturating.

Restless with lust, Tom runs his hands over his older lover’s shoulders, back and sides, roughly caressing the contoured landscape of Georg’s body through the thin maroon material of his shirt. Tom tugs at the dark red item of clothing, wanting to feel heated muscle under his palms. Georg stops long enough to rip the press-stud buttons open with a succession of popping noises. He yanks the shirt off his arms and pitches it aside, his bronzed chest, beautifully crafted pectorals and flat nipples unconcealed to Tom’s stare. Dark brown dots and fainter freckles adorn Georg’s torso like tiny kisses from the sun. His stomach ripples like waves of sand on the ocean’s shore. Tom wants to further admire that impressive display of chiselled flesh but Georg leans down again, quickly returning to Tom’s chest, those hard little nipples of his begging to be bitten and sucked.

“Yes,” Tom coaxes, clutching Georg’s bunched bicep as the brunette male locates his second nipple, rolling and plucking at the taut peak with his fingertips. Georg alternates between the two peaked nubs, tonguing first one, then the other, making sure both of the teenager’s nipples are attended to with either his mouth or hand, giving them occasional bites or pinches.

At the twin pleasuring, Tom’s eyes roll back, his blood thinning with heat and his sex organ swollen and pulsing. He groans inarticulately, writhing beneath Georg’s knowing touch. Tom is almost ready to explode and Georg hasn’t even touched him below the waist. When the other man’s fingers descend down his belly with purposeful intent, Tom grips his wrist and stops him. Georg looks up, licking his lips.

“Not a good idea. I’m too close,” Tom breathlessly tells him, moving Georg’s hand away. “I don’t want this to be all over before it’s even begun.”

“Sorry,” Georg says regretfully. He should have known not to pay too much attention to Tom’s nipples. He knows how sexually responsive they are.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Tom says, sitting up. His eyes fill with wickedness and the pierced corner of his mouth quirks. “My turn now.”

He playfully shoves Georg back onto the mattress and Georg grins in excitement, watching Tom’s deft fingers unfasten his black jeans and hoist them down along with his briefs and socks, making him as naked as the other boy. There is a distinct tan line running mid-thigh across both of Georg’s legs, caused by the short-legged wetsuit he wears when surfing. When he’s finished in the ocean, Georg rolls that wetsuit down to his waist so his upper body can get some sun and it shows, his skin darkened an appealing shade of golden bronze.

Tom kneels beside Georg, sweeping his hand over the suede flesh of the older male’s tanned chest, Tom bending to press his lips to the freckles there, working his mouth along every inch of Georg’s body. Well, almost every inch. Kissing down Georg’s rippled stomach, Tom swirls his tongue around the shallow bellybutton, feeling his partner’s muscles tense in mounting anticipation. Georg’s hand comes to rest on the milky curve of Tom’s shoulder, his touch encouraging.

Tom’s lips wander over the reclining man’s abdomen and hips but avoid touching his pubic area, the tip of Tom’s nose just skimming past the thatch of curls between Georg’s legs. Georg holds his breath as those succulent pierced lips come near his hardened male member but don’t make contact. They hover above his shaft, blowing on it, warm air taunting him with a feather-light pressure. Georg’s dick jumps, as if trying to reach Tom’s mouth and the younger boy laughs teasingly, moving further down, leaving Georg to grumble in disappointment. Tom spreads Georg’s thighs and starts kissing along the sensitive insides, lip-ring dragging over soft flesh.

“Oh sweet salvation...” Georg groans thickly, his knees going weak with wanting. He’s tingling all over, his toes, his feet, his legs and his groin especially. “You have the most talented mouth in the galaxy, Tom.”

Tom smiles from between Georg’s thighs, rewarding the older man by sucking Georg’s cock into his mouth and using his lips, tongue and piercing to torment and seduce until the other actor can’t handle it any more.

“Stop,” Georg gasps. “For the love of all things holy, please stop!”

Smiling, Tom crawls back to his co-star’s side. Georg reaches up and slides his hand into Tom’s hair, pulling him down so their open mouths collide, their tongues wrapping together, sliding, swirling. Their hands are roaming all over each other’s masculine figures, investigating every bend and angle, every flat surface and curved roundness, every patch of fur and every smooth section of skin, every strap of muscle and every bone and joint until there is no place left untouched. The two lovers roll around on the bed, bodies pressing and rubbing, their kisses and caresses turning harder and more possessive until the blood surges through their veins, molten and boiling, their stirred passion demanding conclusion.

They break apart and gaze at each other, panting quickly, feverish with desire, their eyes hazy with need. They can’t kiss anymore. They have reached the point where they have to take the next step. This is it. It’s crunch time. Leaning over the bed, Georg finds his discarded pants and takes the condom Tom gave him from his front pocket. He turns it over in his fingers, the wrapping crinkling at his touch. He looks questioningly at Tom.

“So, who’s going to wear this?”

He knows Tom wants to have sex but Georg’s not sure who his young lover has in mind to be on top. The kid didn’t clarify that. But Georg is not bothered by whichever position Tom chooses to assume. He is just so unbelievably honoured that he is finally going to be able to make love with his long-haired wild child. If it is himself on the bottom, Georg will gratefully accept Tom into his body and into his heart, and if Tom wants him to take charge, Georg will treat the boy with the utmost sweetness and care, showing Tom how beautiful he really is. Either way, it is going to be something that will live in their memories for the rest of their lives. Either way, someone is going to lose their virginity tonight. Is it going to be him or Tom?

“Give it here,” Tom directs, holding out his hand. “I’m wearing it.”

So, it’s going to be Georg. And he couldn’t be more thrilled.

Tom takes the condom and rolls onto his back. Georg stretches on his side, watching Tom’s preparation, excited to an almost hyper level. He can’t wait for what comes next. Tom appears as though he’s confident and has done this a million times but as he is tearing open the plastic package, his hands give him away. They are trembling. Still, he gets the job done, squeezing the tip of the condom to remove all the air and placing it on the head of his penis before rolling the flexible sheath all the way down to the base. The essential element of protection taken care of, Tom turns to his bedside table and gets a tube of lubricant out of the top drawer, where he knows Georg keeps it. He flips the cap and gathers some of the water-based emulsion onto his fingertips, covering the condom with the slippery substance so that it’s easier to do what he is about to do and doesn’t break due to friction. He offers the tube to Georg.

“Do you want me to or...?”

“I’ll do it,” Georg says, taking the lube and reaching between his legs to apply the clear gel where it needs to go, unashamedly stretching himself, preparing for Tom’s entry so it goes as smoothly as possible. Tom could do this for him but Georg is already so sensitized down there that his own touch almost makes him moan out loud. If Tom’s fingers were the ones stretching him right now, Georg might accidentally come and he doesn’t want to, not until Tom is inside him, not until they are properly making love.

Tom asks, “All set?”

Putting the lubricant aside, Georg enthuses, “Hell yeah, I am.”

Turning onto his side, Tom slips an arm under Georg’s neck and draws him close, face to face, resting their heads on the same pillow. He parts Georg’s thighs and lifts the older male’s uppermost leg, hooking it over himself. Georg’s leg is over Tom’s hip and Tom’s hand is on Georg’s thigh, just above the tan line. They are on their sides, facing each other, eye to eye. This way, nobody is on top and nobody is on the bottom. No one is dominant and no one is submissive. This way, they are both on the same level, both equal partners. The way it should be.

Tom strokes Georg’s thigh. “I guess this is it, huh?”

“Guess so,” Georg replies, pulse pounding, almost unable to believe the moment has arrived. Both of them are shaking, but for different reasons. Georg is shaking because he wants this so badly while Tom is trembling with anxiety. Not because he’s afraid he’s going to regret this later - he’s never been so sure of anything in his life - but because he’s worried he’s going to disappoint Georg. What if he can’t live up to Georg’s expectations? What if he’s not good? What if he can’t last long enough? Sensing his trepidation and misunderstanding the reason for it, Georg squeezes Tom’s upper arm reassuringly.

“You won’t hurt me. I’m ready for this.” Thinking of all the practising he’s been doing with the fake penis he bought from the adult store, Georg reinstates, “Trust me, I can’t get any readier.”

With a swallow, Tom nods, attempting to bolster his confidence. “Okay. You’re ready. That’s good.” Yet, he remains hesitant and doesn’t move.

“C’mon, Tom. I’ve waited for this for so long. Don’t make me wait any longer,” Georg prompts, gazing at him imploringly. “I want you so much. Don’t you want me too?”

“You know I do,” Tom answers, brushing Georg’s cheekbone with his thumb. “It feels like I’ve wanted you forever, Georg.”

Searching Tom’s eyes for the truth, Georg finds it. The two pools of dark coffee staring back at him have nothing to hide. They are honest. They are also clear and sober, not murky with drugs or alcohol. This time, Tom knows beyond a doubt what he’s doing and he wants to do this. He’s just scared. So is Georg, a little. After all, it is their first time. But they have no reason to be scared. Georg lifts his thigh higher and slides his ankle around to the blond boy’s lower back, shifting closer so that Tom’s hard length is poised right at the gateway to Georg’s body, nudging him.

“Then have me, Tom. I’m all yours. Every bit of me.”

The bold invitation makes Tom’s heart thud until he can feel the beat in his own throat and hear it in his ears. He’s feeling every inch the virgin that Georg is. For all the weeks that they have known each other Tom has desired to do this with such constant, unabated yearning but wracked with guilt and fear, never allowed himself to cave until this very evening. Making love to Georg...this is Tom’s gift. Regardless of whether it’s right or wrong, this is the thing that he can give to his lover, the promise that he can keep. He wants to give Georg what he has given no other man.

Himself.

In giving Georg his gift, Tom will also receive a gift in return. In effect, they are both giving away the same gift. Innocence. They are both giving their innocence to each other. There will be no taking here tonight. Tom is not going to take Georg’s virginity; Georg has been offering it to him all along. Tom has just never accepted it before. But now he is.

“Okay. Here we go,” he says. Hand secured on Georg’s thigh, Tom sucks in a brave gulp of air and shifts his pelvis forward, pushing against his partner’s entrance. Aided by the slipperiness of the soluble solution coating the condom, the tip of Tom’s sex eases in past the tight opening and even through the thin layer of rubber encasing him he can feel the unbelievable warmth inside Georg’s body, the accommodatingly supple flesh within. His teenage testosterone tells him to keep going, to bury himself in that burrow of warmth, all the way in, but Tom doesn’t want to hurt Georg by being too fast or rough and tries to slow the movement of his hips, gradually rocking in, a little further each time.

Georg’s breath is suspended, his lips parted in expectation. Tom keeps his eyes locked with Georg’s, hunting for the barest hint of discomfort in the depths of his boyfriend’s sea-green irises. Seeing none, only desperate need, Tom grabs Georg’s hip and with one firm, final stroke, fully enters his lover. Georg’s gasp is drowned out by the rushing of blood in Tom’s ears as his shaft sinks deep into the hottest, tightest velvet sheath he’s ever known or imagined.

Shivering from head to toe at the unspeakably pleasurable feeling of being inside Georg for the very first time, Tom clenches his eyes shut and breathes a few swear words, a rash of tingly bumps breaking out and lifting every hair on his skin, as if he is standing too close to a power generator. Stilling his hips, he silently thanks the inventor of the condom because if he wasn’t wearing one, he’d be attaining orgasm right then and there, simply from the moment of entry. So fucking hot. So fucking tight. It would be easy to just blow, just like that. But he’s determined not to let Georg down and keeps his mind and his willpower strong. The latex film around his sexual organ dulls his nerve endings just enough to keep him under control but not too much as to deaden the sensation completely. Wearing protection, Tom will be able to last longer than he normally would have yet still feel everything. He can still feel Georg’s incredible inner heat, can feel the slickness closely surrounding him, can feel the throb of the dark-haired man’s internal pulse, can feel his energy, his very life. It’s like nothing Tom has ever felt before.

Eyes still shut to savor the feeling, another whole-body shiver passes through Tom and he tightens his arms around Georg, gushing, “Oh fuck, G... You feel amazing.”

There is no response from Georg so Tom cracks his eyelids open in alarm. Georg’s face is pressed into the pillow.

“Georg?” Tom touches his hair.

The first man reluctantly turns towards Tom. His lashes are wet. The pillowcase is wet. He sniffs.

“Shit,” Tom utters, thinking that he has hurt Georg. “Was I too rough?”

“No. I’m okay. I just didn’t want you to see me crying.” Georg attempts a wobbly smile. “How lame, right? I tried not to but when I felt you inside me...it was just too good.” When Tom’s worried expression remains, he insists, “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

“Absolutely.” Georg grasps the other boy’s shoulder. “Tom, as you once said to me: if you stop now I’ll kill you.”

Worries put to rest, Tom smiles briefly, kisses Georg affectionately on his lined forehead and continues, carefully withdrawing, his hormones under control. As Tom thrusts inside him once more, tiny sparkles burst and spread all over Georg’s body like fireworks, beginning in his lower half and rapidly moving outwards through all of his limbs, the electrifying sensation causing him to clutch at Tom with shocked fingers, gasping his astonishment. It’s not the first time Georg has had something inside of him but this is so much better than a lifeless rubber imitation. The thick male length curving up into him is composed of living tissue, cells and veins, throbbing and heated with red blood, propelled by another person’s desire, not by his own hand. It’s not an inanimate object inside him now; it’s Tom. Tom is inside him, part of him, joined with him. Just like he’s always wanted. It’s not wishful thinking anymore. It’s actually happening.

“Oh God, Tom....Yes...” Georg’s low groan spills from him as Tom’s slippery hardness slides in and out of his entrance, sleekly, smoothly, the delectable friction igniting the nerves down there, making them respond to the slightest pressure. Georg tilts his head back on the pillow, eyelids fluttering shut. Overwhelming sensations lap at him, intensifying every time he feels the contact of Tom’s body, the silken skin gliding against his own, the steady calloused hands holding him and pulling him closer, the sharp rush of pleasure in his belly as Tom drives into him, the spear of masculine flesh stoking the coals of his hunger. Georg's skin sears, his stomach simmers, his internal organs dissolve. His breath thickens and leaves his lungs in heavy ragged gusts.

Tom hears Georg’s every moan and whimper, feels his every shudder and tremor, watches his every movement. He watches how Georg’s muscles tighten beneath his sun-kissed skin as he flexes sinuously, greeting Tom’s every thrust, hips surging forward to meet Tom’s own. He watches Georg’s strong fingers curl and uncurl, blunt nails leaving crescent marks into the skin of Tom’s arm. He watches the way Georg’s stomach muscles harden as if to stone, the way his chest expands with each heave of air, the way his tongue wets his dry lips in quick swipes of pink, the way his eyes dart restlessly back and forth under the closed lids, the way his brows knit in concentration, the way his nostrils flare and jaws grit, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows to moisten his throat. The look on Georg’s face is captivating to Tom – the look that so resembles suffering but is not – making the blond teen catch his breath, his eyes drinking up the enthralling sight of his older lover beside him, Georg swept away in his own tempest of supreme desire, an impressive specimen of a man, more than just attractive or handsome.

“You are fucking beautiful, Georg,” Tom whispers, halting for a moment. Georg’s eyes pop open and he looks to Tom with wonder in the green circles of his irises. This is the first time the boy has given him such a heartfelt compliment. But there’s more.

“Do you remember the song I played for you that night – ‘Normal World’?”

Georg nods. He recalls Tom singing pain-filled lyrics about a person wanting and needing somebody else but being afraid of hurting them. Or of being hurt themselves. It was a sad and touching song.

“I wrote that about you,” Tom confesses, his tone resonant with feeling but soft with sincerity. “I’m not that good with actually saying stuff, but the lyrics of that song...that’s what you mean to me.”

Against his will, Georg’s emotions begin welling up to the point of overflowing. He knows it’s sentimental and over-romantic but after hearing those words he feels like weeping with sheer happiness. Before he can do that, Tom pulls out and rolls Georg over onto his back. Anchoring himself above Georg’s body, Tom settles between the other man's parted thighs, the boy’s hair forming a curtain around his face as the long blond-tipped strands dangle down.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Tom coaches. Georg does so, readily and willingly, slipping his arms around Tom at the same time, holding him near. With Georg’s legs coiled about his waist, Tom can penetrate him easier than when they were both lying on their sides and he drives downward, plunging into the older actor as far as he can, filling him entirely, Tom groaning at the sense of completion. Such a perfect fit, as if he and Georg are two jigsaw pieces that slot together.

Receiving the deep thrust, Georg cries out not in pain but in passion, his cry swallowed by Tom’s hungry mouth. Though he is on the bottom, Georg doesn’t feel dominated. The second male’s weight on top of him is not oppressive; it’s welcome and wanted. Very much so. In this position, he feels close to Tom, completely close to him, as close to the other boy as his own skin. They are fully and totally together, chests and stomachs, arms and legs, hips and mouths. Their bodies are joined; Tom is buried inside of Georg, but they are not having sex. They are not screwing or shagging or fucking.

They are making love.

For the first time, they make love. While it is erotically passionate and driven by urgency, the experience is also achingly tender for the guys, almost too tender to endure. Every gorgeous touch, every luscious kiss, every silky-smooth thrust is just exquisitely poignant and too much, yet not enough all at once. They feel as though they will die if they continue, and they will die if they don’t. But they don’t stop. They can’t, not until they have played this scene out to the very end. However, in this scene there is no script to follow, no director telling them what to do, no costumes or props or sets. This is their private scene, with no cameras, no crew and no audience. It is just them, alone, in a bed, and they are acting from the heart. They move together as one, savoring the feel of caressing hands, warm flesh, satiny hair and soft lips as if it is their last night on earth.

There are no words in the English dictionary adequate enough to explain how deeply and profoundly they feel about each other at that moment so, they tell each other through touch, through kiss, through awed and amazed gazes, looking meaningfully into each other’s eyes whilst their bodies do all the communicating. They lock gazes, brown into green, until the beauty of what they are both sharing overcomes them. Then they throw their heads back, squeeze their eyes shut and make what sounds like a growl or a groan or a sob, the only way they can express their extreme rapture. Even when they try to utter a line, they break off halfway and just give in to a wordless moan. It doesn’t matter; they both know what the other is trying to say. They both feel the same way.

They are not only two bodies united as one but two spirits, their combined desires burning more strongly with each passing second. It feels as though they are flying, spinning around, giddy and dizzy, high on each other, losing themselves in dream-like intoxication. For this one timeless moment - they don’t know if it’s a minute or an hour or a day, but for this moment while they are wrapped in each other, they feel entirely connected. The two lovers fully give themselves to one another, not holding back, hiding nothing. Giving all. All they have to give.

“Tom, soon,” Georg encourages, his excitement nearing its peak, wanting the boy to come with him.

“Tell me when,” Tom says breathlessly, hammering into Georg, harder and faster, waiting for the telltale signs of his partner’s orgasm before allowing himself to let go.

“Oh God, more,” Georg begs, meeting Tom’s powerful thrusts, rocking with him, lifting his pelvis to get the angle he wants, abdominal muscles hardening with effort. He rubs his arousal against Tom’s flat belly, sticky with his own secretions, the swell of his plateau rising within him like a tidal sea, rising, rising, rising...

“Oh, God. Oh God...Now, Tom, now, now, now...” Clutching his blond partner with all arms and legs, tightly, as if to stop from falling off the edge of a cliff, Georg jolts with sweet-sharp spasms of release, panting through his soul-splitting climax.

When he feels warm fluid splashing his stomach Tom moans, his thrusting becoming frenzied as he strives to match his lover’s ascent, every muscle straining, every tendon taut as a guitar string in his quest. His face is against Georg’s shoulder, golden skin all he can see, the salty male scent of Georg’s sweat filling his nostrils. His moan merges into an escalating wail as he pounds into Georg’s gripping velvet heat with delirious fervor. As he achieves his glory, Tom pushes up on his hands and throws his head back, hair flicking behind him in a flaxen arc. Ramming deep one last time, Tom’s essence spills out of him in liquid waves like hot mercury.

His vocal chords shutting off and breath stopping, Tom freezes with his eyes shut, immersed in the most brilliant, joyous, spiritual ecstasy he has ever known. His brain fills with a radiant luminosity that sheets down through his body, lighting up the marrow in his bones. The white light swirls into purple, then magenta, then aqua, each hue giving him a new height of blissfulness. No drug he’s ever swallowed or sniffed has made him feel like this, as if he is a conduit for the sun and the moon, for the stars and the planets, a vessel for the force of the universe, the very power of creation flowing through him. The ever-changing lights rumble through Tom like quiet thunder and his soul vibrates with mindless delight, utterly mute and deaf with colourful oblivion.

Just as suddenly, it is all over and Tom’s senses return. Shaking, he collapses on top of Georg, their hearts pounding. They need a few minutes to regain their breath, their arms around each other and their bodies still interlinked, incapable of talking or thinking, stunned by the intensity of their joining.

Eventually remembering that he’s wearing a condom, Tom cautiously pulls out of Georg before he goes too soft, holding the base of the rubber so it doesn’t slip off his wilting member. He ties a knot in the end and discards the used sheath in the bedside trash receptacle, flopping back onto the rumpled quilt and blinking at the ceiling.

“Dude,” Tom says in an awed voice, “that was incredible! I saw colours, Georg! Swear to God.”

Brain still fuzzy with the afterglow of their life-changing lovemaking, Georg can’t speak to begin with. He absently wipes at his belly with a corner of the sheet. When the full impact of what just happened seeps into his dazzled mind, Georg reaches out to his young co-star, whispering, “Oh, Tom. Thank you for giving me that. Thank you so much...”

Seeing the sheen in Georg’s gaze, Tom wards him off, saying mock-threateningly, “Don’t fuckin’ cry on me again, man. I don’t want to have to slap you.”

“I won’t. It’s just...I’m so happy,” Georg professes, his face dividing with a smile as wide as the horizon, crinkles showing up at the edges of his twinkling sea-green eyes. He takes Tom’s hand, kissing it repeatedly and energetically. “You’ve made me so happy, darlin’. Happy, happy, happy.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re happy.” Tom chuckles, feeling lighter and freer than he has for some time, as if he’s just gotten rid of a massive boulder that he’s been dragging around for months.

“Hey!” Georg remembers something and turns to scrabble in his bedside drawer. “I have a thing I’ve been wanting to give you but I haven’t yet because I wasn’t sure if you’d accept it. I think now you might.”

“Oh, a present!” Sitting up, Tom bounces on the bed, grinning. “I like getting those. Especially when it’s not my birthday.”

Finding what he was after, Georg turns back around, his fingers closed around a rectangular velvet box, similar to the ones found at jewelers. “Here,” he says shyly, handing it over, anxious to see Tom’s reaction.

Eager to find out what his gift is, Tom lifts the top of the hinged blue velvet box and his eyes grow big. It’s a bracelet. But not any old bracelet. It’s not made of metal, not of silver or gold. It’s made of wood, a rich red wood. The item has been meticulously hand crafted and is decorated with a carved eagle, its wings stretching around the whole diameter of the thick circular band. The carving of the bird is intricately detailed, from the tiny beak and talons, right down to each individual feather and must have taken hours upon hours of fine, painstaking work to create. It looks almost Native American but Tom hasn’t seen anything quite like this in any tourist stand before.

“You made this yourself?”

Georg nods and drops his eyes, hoping it’s not too much, not too personal a gift to give. Most of all, hoping that Tom likes it.

“Wow,” the younger boy breathes, genuinely touched that Georg had put so much time and effort into making this one-of-a-kind gift just for him, once again proving how thoughtful and caring the older actor is. Tom takes it out of the box and admires the dark, reddish-brown sheen of the wood, handling the bracelet very delicately, as if he doesn’t want to damage it.

“You don’t have to treat it like glass. It’s made of very tough wood,” Georg elaborates, not mentioning how utterly difficult it was to carve or how damn long it took him to chip out the design. He’s been working on it for weeks. “I’ve given it a few coats of varnish so it’s pretty indestructible. I hope it fits.”

Tom slides the bracelet over his fingers and knuckles. He smiles and holds up his wrist so Georg can see for himself. “See? Perfect fit.”

The deep, lustrous red colour of the large wooden ring looks stunning against Tom’s ivory skin and Georg knows he made the right choice of material over other less vibrantly coloured timbers. “So, you like it?”

“Love it,” Tom declares, leaning over to gratefully kiss Georg on the cheek. “It’s awesome. Thank you, man.”

“You’re welcome,” Georg replies with a modest smile, delighted with the teenager’s affection.

Still admiring the bracelet, Tom asks, “So, what I do owe you for this? More sex?”

Georg glances down at himself and his deflated instrument. “Oh, well, not quite yet. Give me a few minutes.”

“Give me thirty seconds.” Creeping his fingers down Georg’s stomach, towards his groin, Tom smirks and flicks his lip-ring. “I’ve got the most amazing mouth in the galaxy, remember?”

Laughing, the two lovers tumble together on the bed, brimming with elation, thinking that everything they’ve been though - every fight, every harsh word, every ounce of hurt and humiliation and pain - has all been worth it. It’s been worth it because now, they’re together. Really, truly together, in every way that counts.

At long last.
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Improvisation