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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
- 25
- 26
- 27
A/N: This chapter focuses on Koji’s background - how he got into the business and why he does what he does. I know some of you don’t like Koji but this is told from his perspective and without him there is no story. However, go ahead and skip the parts where he’s talking about his past if you’d rather not read it!

Chapter 26.

Bill has already been in my room but Tom hasn’t and the older teen gazes around, looking at the Japanese paintings of samurai I have adorning the walls. He looks at the framed photo of Keiichi and me and then turns around with a slightly bemused expression on his face. He probably wasn’t expecting my room to look like this, neat and ordinary. He must have thought I’d have scary-looking weapons everywhere or maybe some body parts I’d taken as souvenirs on display. But no, the space is just sparsely furnished with a bed, chair, TV and bedside table with a lamp and clock on it. The most unusual thing in there is the punching bag hanging in the corner, something I perhaps should have made Tom hit instead of me. At least then he wouldn’t be feeling so badly about it. But if I’d done that, he’d most likely still be angry at me with all that bottled up rage and I much prefer it out of him and gone. It’s almost like the slate has been wiped clean between us and we can start building on a new relationship, one that’s a lot more positive and a lot less volatile.

First, we can begin by having dinner together, all of us.

“So, noodles,” I prompt the boys. “Any preference?”

“We don’t mind what you choose for us,” Bill replies. “As long as there’s no meat.”

“No meat. Got it. Feel free to have a go at the punching bag while I’m on the phone,” I suggest, picking up my cell. The two teenagers go over and take turns hitting the stuffed piece of gym equipment, Bill swearing when he hurts his delicate hand and exclaiming at how hard it is, and Tom getting Bill to hold the bag still while he shows his younger brother how it’s done, Tom giving it a few solid punches in the middle. Maybe I should get one and install it in his room. He might enjoy that.

My call is answered and I place an order to a noodle shop that does deliveries. Bill glances over at me inquisitively, never having heard me speak in Japanese before. This particular store knows my address as I’ve ordered from them on previous occasions. I go by a fake business name and I always pay them in cash so there’s no credit card to trace. They think I run an automotive repair shop.

“While we’re waiting for our food,” I say after I’ve hung up, “we may as well have a couple of drinks. Tom, be a good boy and go grab a couple of cans from your games room. You still have some beer left from the other night, don’t you?”

“Yeah. You gave us enough for a whole month of binge drinking,” he dryly quips, sounding more like his old wisecracking self. “There’s plenty left.”

“Well, get a six-pack for you and your brother, then. And bring me back a soda,” I add as he’s nodding and turning down the hall. Excluding the secret viewing booth, I’ve left all the doors in the corridor open so they know that this is a special occasion and that nobody will be locked in or out of anywhere, not today. I hope this builds more trust between us all, particularly in Tom’s case.

While the older twin is momentarily gone, I turn to Bill. “I’m sorry I left you for so long. Are you all right?” I ask him, softly grasping his shoulder.

He nods. “I’m fine. I knew you’d come back. I’m more concerned about what Tom did to you.”

Smiling, I reply, “Don’t be. I’m okay, Bill. Like I said, it’ll heal.”

“I know, but it was such a shock seeing you like this.” Stepping up to me, he gently touches my bruised cheekbone, his gaze full of sadness. “Your poor, beautiful face…”

At being called beautiful, I’m caught off guard, for once not knowing what to say. I just stare into his deep brown eyes, realising how much I’ve missed him and his innocent sweetness these last few days. For a moment it seems as though Bill is going to kiss me, the slim musician starting to lean in closer, lashes lowering and his lips parting. He quickly draws back and lets his touch fall away when we hear the scuffing sounds of Tom’s sneakers coming down the hallway towards us.

Tom has returned with half a dozen cans of beer in a cardboard holder and one can of Sprite. He hands that to me and then breaks off two beers, passing one to Bill. I invite them to sit on my bed, both of the twins eyeing me curiously as I crack the ring-pull top off the lemonade with a hiss of escaping carbon dioxide and have a swallow of the fizzy contents.

“You don’t drink?” Tom asks, cracking open his first beer for the night, he and Bill taking a swig of their respective cans at the exact same moment.

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“Why – you in recovery or something?”

“No, I avoid drinking because when I do my whole face turns as red as a fire hydrant.”

The boys give me puzzled glances, wondering if I’m kidding with them.

“It’s true. I suffer from what’s known as ‘Asian Flush’ or ‘Asian Glow’. A lot of Asians lack the ability to properly process alcohol. It’s due to certain malfunctioning enzymes in our bodies,” I explain. “It just means that when we drink, even a small amount, we react by flushing very deeply and brightly. Our body temperature goes up and our hearts race; we can get dizzy and nauseated. Some people even puke or pass out. It’s quite uncomfortable, not to mention incredibly awkward in social situations.”

After hearing that, Tom starts to smirk. “Basically, you’re saying that you can’t handle your liquor.”

“Pretty much.” I shrug acceptingly. “It’s not just Asians, though. Europeans and other nationalities can get it too. People who suffer from the flush are also at high risk of developing oesophageal cancer, another great reason to avoid drinking.”

“So, you can’t drink at ALL?” Bill queries with raised eyebrows, as though that would be a dreadful thing to endure in one’s lifetime.

“Well, I can but it’s not really worth the side-effects. I can’t even have half a beer or a few sips of wine without the symptoms kicking in.”

Bill stares at me. “Show us.”

I blink nervously. “What?”

“Show us.” He holds out his beer can. “I wanna see what it does.”

“No way!” I immediately exclaim, not wanting him to see me like that. Girls can get away with the ‘glowing’ look but on me, the alcohol flush just makes me appear badly sunburned. It’s not very attractive.

“Aw, come on,” Tom joins in interestedly. “Prove you’re not just making it up.”

“I’m NOT making it up.” I glare at him, knowing that he just wants to poke fun at me.

“Please?” Bill cajoles, giving me big begging eyes.

I sigh, starting to cave. I guess after all the times I humiliated Bill and Tom, I probably deserve some humiliation of my own.

“Oh, all right.” I reluctantly take the beer can out of Bill’s hand.

The two of them watch me avidly as I sigh again and lift the aluminium can to my lips, taking a few deep swallows. I actually do enjoy the malty taste of beer and would drink it more if it didn’t backfire horribly on me.

At first nothing happens. Tom and Bill are still staring at me, waiting for proof. I feel very self-conscious, knowing what’s shortly going to occur. As if I didn’t look bad enough already, with all the scabs and bruises. Maybe the flush will camouflage some of that.

Or just make it look even worse.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I mutter, drinking some more for good measure before putting the half-empty beer can down on the floor. The strong painkillers I’m on have softened my willpower and that’s why I’m acting so unusually casual and obliging with the boys. I’m pretty much high on medication right now.

“Is it working?” Bill queries, squinting at me and searching for changes.

“I don’t know.” For an awesome moment I think that maybe I’ve outgrown the condition (as can happen to some lucky people) but my hopes are dashed when I begin to feel my cheeks heating up and my heart thumping more strongly.

Aw, crap.

In a matter of a minute, the heat consumes my face, ears, and neck like a rash. The fact that I haven’t eaten anything only makes the symptoms occur faster. My head starts to throb. My pulse is three times as fast as normal and I’m beginning to prickle with perspiration along my spine and on my scalp. Breathing becomes marginally difficult. It’s like walking into an invisible sauna.

“Well…there you go. The Asian Flush.” I make a resigned gesture towards my unattractively flaming cheeks. “Hope you’re happy now.”

“Holy shit,” Tom comments in astonishment. “You really DO go bright red!”

“I told you. It even spreads along here.” I yank the neck of my T-shirt down, revealing the flushed, blotchy state of my throat and upper chest. Even my shoulders feel warm. Lifting the long hair off the back of my neck and fanning myself with the paper takeout menu that I had in the bedside drawer, I drawl sarcastically, “Thanks, guys. I’m really burning up now. This is great. Thank you.”

I’m meant to be a bad-ass kidnapper but it’s hard to feel bad-ass when you’ve got a head like a cooked tomato. Even the whites of my eyes go all red and bloodshot.

Crawling closer on his knees, a fascinated Bill peers at me, reaching up to cup my reddened cheek with one hand. I wince but I don’t push him away. Normally, I wouldn’t let anyone see me in this embarrassing condition, let alone touch me, but this is Bill Kaulitz and he can touch me any damn time he wants to. Besides, it’s nice and soothing, his fingers blissfully cool on my overheated flesh. I’m sure he can feel how fast my pulse is racing too, my deficient system trying its hardest to deal with the alcoholic substance in my body. In an hour or so, it will fade but for now I’m on fire, and not in a good way.

“Tom, you should feel how hot he is!” Bill urges, grabbing his brother’s hand. “Touch him.”

“No!” Tom blurts, yanking his hand away and looking horrified. Bill gives him a weird look but soon focuses back on me, occupied with checking my elevated temperature.

“Are you okay, Koji?” Feeling my clammy forehead, Bill starts to look worried and guilty for making me drink, now that he can see the startling effect it’s having on me. “You’re not getting sick are you? Do you need to throw up?”

“No. I’ll be all right, don’t panic,” I reply, removing his hand from my blazing brow and giving him back his stupid beer. “It’ll soon wear off, thank God. I hate feeling this way. It’s like I’m about to burst into flames.”

“I’m so sorry!” Bill scrunches up his cute face in dismay as I roll the chilled can of Sprite over my forehead and cheeks, trying to cool them down. “This is all my fault! I shouldn’t have made you do it.”

“You didn’t force the beer down my throat at knife-point. Oh, talking of knives,” I divert, getting up and cleverly switching the subject away from my red face. “You wanna check out my collection of weapons?”

That gets their immediate interest and they follow me like eager puppies as I’m opening one of my closets, their jaws dropping at what I’ve got stashed inside. Though the key is in the door, I normally leave the closet unlocked because the only person who enters my room is me. All my surveillance equipment is in there arranged neatly on shelves, along with a couple of semi-automatic handguns, Tasers, handcuffs, cable ties, ropes, a hunting knife, boxes of ammo and a case of steel throwing stars. Tom gives a long, low whistle at all the arsenal while Bill gasps out loud, particularly at the last items.

“Tomi, Tomi look!” Pointing, Bill thumps his brother repeatedly on the arm to get the older one’s attention. “Look – he has NINJA STARS!”

I chuckle at his hyper-excitement.

“I knew it!” He’s bouncing on the spot at he points triumphantly at me. “Ooooh, I KNEW you were a ninja!”

“Sorry, Bill. I’m not a ninja. I just like their tools.”

“Why do you have all this stuff?” Tom frowns at me, sensing something off about a simple kidnapper possessing such an array of weapons and high-tech spy gear.

“I have all this stuff because of my job.”

“Electrical engineers need bug-detectors and stun-guns these days?” Tom replies sceptically.

“No, that was my old job. I’m a Bounty Hunter now. You know what that is?”

“Oh, you’re like that Dog guy on television!” Bill exclaims in comprehension, his eyes going round. “The one with the long yellow hair and tattoos that catches fooj…foojee…”

“Fugitives,” Tom finishes for him. “That’s what you do? Capture wanted criminals?”

“Exactly. Only I’m a bit more…subtle about it,” I remark drolly. “I’m stealthy and secretive. Most of my targets don’t even see me coming until it’s too late.”

“Coooool,” Bill breathes, reaching out to the shiny, irresistible ninja stars. I quickly take his wrist and stop him.

“Don’t touch those. You’ll cut yourself.”

“You actually use them?” Tom asks.

“Sometimes, yeah.” I take one of the pronged discs of silver out of their storage case, turning it in my fingers and letting the light play across its sharp edges. “You flick one of these babies into the back of someone’s leg, they soon stop running from you.”

I demonstrate, quickly flicking my wrist and sending the star whizzing across the room to lodge in the wall with a ‘thunk’, Bill gasping again about how cool that is. He’s looking at me with unconcealed awe, as if I’m some kind of superhero. Even though I’m not, I do like him looking at me in that flattering way. It makes my stomach tingle.

Also impressed, Tom eyes off the guns lying along one shelf, open and unsecured. He could easily grab one of them and attempt to shoot me, and perhaps if this was a few days ago he would have, but tonight the impulse doesn’t seem to cross his mind. He just appears highly intrigued. Anyway, they’re not even loaded. I only load them when they’re in use.

“You ever shot anyone?”

“Sure,” I answer the older twin. “When I’ve had to, like if someone is already shooting at me. But I usually only wound them in the shoulder, arm or knee. I’ve never killed anybody.”

“Never?”

“No. Assassins kill people. Hit-men kill people. Snipers kill people. Mercenaries kill people. Bounty Hunters don’t. At least, not normally in this century.”

“Is that where you go at night?” Bill queries. “Hunting?”

I shake my head. “I’m not taking assignments at the moment. I don’t work all the time, only when I choose to.”

“Because you don’t need the money,” Tom guesses. “You do it for the thrill.”

I smile rewardingly at him. “Precisely.”

Peering at a set of handcuffs, he comments absently, “No wonder you’re so good at kidnapping, then.”

“That’s a whole different thing,” I reply, locking the cupboard door for the first time and sealing away my weapons, slipping the key into my trouser pocket. “My job has nothing to do with this.”

“How did you become a Bounty Hunter?” Bill’s questioning voice makes me glance towards him. “Do they have like, a form you can fill out over the internet or something?”

My lips twitch and I shake my head. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, I’m afraid.” As there are not enough chairs in my room for everyone, I sink onto my bed again and the twins follow suit, bringing their drinks.

“Before I changed jobs, I was working as an electrical engineer for a globally-known energy corporation with a whole branch of multi-million dollar substations and power networks, all over the world. My father retired recently but he used to be the head of it, the chief executive - the big boss man. My brother worked there too. He and I used to work side by side, in the same department. I used to really enjoy working with him, and I also enjoyed the technical aspect of it. I used to have a lot of friends there and we’d all hang out after work. But when Keiichi died, I lost all interest in life. In my friends. In my job.”

My voice goes flat.

“I didn’t want to see the pity on other people’s faces if I went back. I didn’t want to hear how sorry they were or to be told the same useless lines of sympathy over and over again but most of all, I couldn’t face going back there without my brother, looking at his empty desk next to mine. My parents made me leave my apartment and come back home to live with them. Even so, I fell into a deep depression and didn’t eat, didn’t talk, didn’t even want to get out of bed. I lost a lot of weight. My father saw how tough it was on me and he told me I didn’t have to return to work anymore if I didn’t feel up to it. He still kept paying me, though, and to this day he still puts an allowance in my bank account every month. He also got a doctor to come see me and I was prescribed anti-depressant medication. It helped. Enough for me to get my ass out of bed, anyway.”

I shrug, not embarrassed about my complete breakdown. That’s in the past now.

“I started eating and began training again. Training was another thing I used to do with my brother but instead of making me feel bad doing it alone, it made me feel better. Stronger. I knew Keiichi wouldn’t want me to lie around feeling sorry for myself so I concentrated on regaining my strength and my fitness. After a while I was the fittest I’d ever been and I decided a career change was in order. Keiichi and I had always talked about becoming Bounty Hunters and how awesome it would be, getting paid to track and arrest felons on the run from the law, the thrill of the hunt and capture. We loved Dad but we didn’t want to work for his company forever. We wanted something more challenging and had this fanciful idea of becoming twin Hunters and working together on jobs, building a successful business and partnership. Even though my brother was gone, I chose to fulfil our dream for both of us.”

The boys are listening to my story with keen interest. They probably have a ton of questions whirling in their quick little minds but they don’t interrupt me, letting me tell the tale my way and sipping on their beers as I talk.

“I researched online what I had to do and then completed the required training courses, including ones in security guard duties and how to perform arrests. I also obtained a firearms licence. Once I passed all the courses and had all my permits, I was a qualified Bounty Hunter. We are also called Bail Enforcement Agents, but that doesn’t sound quite as cool.”

I smile wryly.

“At first I worked for legal firms, police departments and federal authorities, capturing fugitives who’d breached their bail conditions, hadn’t shown up for court dates or had outstanding warrants for their arrest. I was good at my job. Very good. The only problem I had was that in some instances I wasn’t allowed to enter premises illegally or by force. So, if I knew my Skip – or target - was inside a house or building somewhere, I couldn’t just bust in and take them down. They had to let me in or I had to wait until they came out. It annoyed me. I grew impatient. I broke that condition once and lost my licence. But I didn’t lose my hunger for the hunt. I started taking on outside assignments, working privately and freelancing my services to anyone who wanted to hire me. I wasn’t legal anymore but it didn’t matter. It was better that way. I could work by my own rules, not someone else’s. I could break into people’s houses and carry any weapons I wanted to. The only rule I had was to capture my targets alive.”

Tom interrupts me, sounding doubtful. “You really haven’t killed anybody?”

“Not once. I use force to subdue people, even injure them if necessary, but I never kill anyone. I take pride in that. A skilled Bounty Hunter doesn’t need to kill.”

“Otherwise you’d be an assassin,” Bill concludes.

I nod at him. “Killing people doesn’t interest me. Any thug with half a brain cell can kill someone. But tracking and capturing slippery fugitives without taking lives involves real talent. I enjoy it, dressing in combat gear and playing with ultra-modern spyware equipment. But it’s more than a game to me. When I first started I took it very seriously, training every day, perfecting my martial arts abilities and learning new ones. I began taking on more challenging and dangerous jobs than I used to, jobs that perhaps others didn’t want to do, such as tracking murderers and violent rapists. And I was successful every time. Word spread of my skill and soon I was being contacted via email by all kinds of people, all over the world. I didn’t care who they were or who they were after. If they could afford to pay me, I’d do the job. I’d travel overseas regularly for work and began buying houses or apartments in different countries, often hidden away in private locations, so I had a home base to live in while I was there doing a job. This is one of those places.”

Wrapping up my story, I end with, “And that’s how I became a Bounty Hunter.”

“Wow,” Bill remarks, his eyes big and awed. “Your life is like a movie!”

I chuckle amusedly. “In some respects, I guess.”

“So, how’d you get into kidnapping?” Tom courageously ventures. “I mean, with the way this whole place is set up, you must have done it before, right? We’re not your first, are we?”

I glance between him and Bill, reading their faces. Strangely enough, they’re not judging me, just curious about my life and why I do what I do.

“I have indeed done this before. I’ve taken seven other sets of twins besides you. But none of them have been held here. You’re the only ones I’ve taken from Germany.”

Bill blinks. “You’ve taken twins in other countries?”

“Several countries, yes, including India, Australia and Korea. I never planned to abduct anyone right at the beginning. I’ve never fantasised about that kind of stuff in my life. It just sort of…happened. At least the first time.”

“Will you tell us about it?” Bill presses. “How it happened?”

“You sure you wanna know?”

“Yes! Very much.”

I look to Tom and he appears every bit as enquiring, gazing at me with watchful, interested eyes. For once, he’s not ignoring me or looking away. I do believe this is the most attention he’s ever paid to me.

“Okay. I’ll tell you, then.” Leaning against the wall at the side of the bed, I gaze up at the ceiling, recalling my tale to an avid pair of listeners. “I had a work assignment in Spain. My target was this middle-aged guy who owned a car sales business but ran a car theft operation on the side, stealing rich people’s Porches and Ferraris and the like and reselling them. He had managed to avoid arrest on numerous occasions by moving around and hiding out but I eventually found him and he was an easy capture. Once he was in jail, I didn’t spare him a second thought. But I kept going back to his luxury country chalet and watching it from inside my van. You see, when I’d been tracking him, I discovered he had children. Sons. Twins.”

I let my mind drift back to the day I first saw them.

They were twenty two years old, perfectly identical and I was fascinated. They had long, curly brown hair and olive-green eyes. They were beautiful. Fiery. Passionate. They would often shove and shout at each other in anger but they were inseparable, laughing and hugging just as much as they fought. I began watching them. Following them. I became obsessed. I wanted them. But I also wanted to BE them. So, after their father had been imprisoned, I took the boys one by one, stole them, locked them both away. I didn’t touch them and barely even spoke to the two young men. I had no idea what I was going to do with the pair of them; all I knew was that I wanted to keep these entrancing young Spaniards for myself. I set up a room with cameras so I could watch them all day and all night. They thought they’d been kidnapped for ransom money, or because of something their father had done. They believed that he’d sort it out, even from inside jail, but as the days dragged on without their release, they began to worry.

The boys hadn’t been sleeping together, or shown any obvious signs of wanting to, so imagine my surprise and excitement when one evening they did. They were afraid of losing one other, of being separated and executed because the ransom money hadn’t been paid. One was screaming and crying and the other comforted him. They clung together, desperate to live. Somehow, their lips connected and they began to kiss. That led to a spontaneous lovemaking session that was every bit as frantic and passionate as their fighting used to be, as if they’d suddenly recognized how badly they needed each other.

And then I realised that it was because of me.

I did that. I made them come together, to become lovers. Every day they treated as though their last and every night they’d take comfort in each other’s arms, knowing that if they were to die, at least they’d die loved and emotionally fulfilled. Wondering how they’d react on the outside, I let the brothers go. I kept watch over them and was thrilled to see them continue their incestuous relationship, kissing and having sex in secret, apparently none the worse for the experience. They exhibited no shame about it.

They went to the police to report their kidnapping but as there were no real leads, I was never caught and the boys didn’t seem overly concerned about seeking justice because I hadn’t hurt them. In fact, they almost seemed thankful for the event. It made them become closer, in a way they hadn’t realised they could be. What happened in that locked room made their bond so deep and strong that they never had to fear anything again in their lives. I completed them and that in turn, fulfilled me. Even though I had lost my own twin, I was happy that those brothers had each other and that they now knew what true love, connection and enlightenment was. Instead of feeling guilty for what I had done, I wondered if I could do that again, with another pair of twins.

“And that’s how I became a kidnapper,” I finish up, having told Bill and Tom a shorter, more edited version of these past events, not wanting them to be jealous of my first abductees.

My current captives are both staring at me, the two German teenagers both shocked and enthralled by my story.

“You just let them go?”

“Yes,” I answer Tom. “There was no need for me to keep them anymore. I felt as though I’d found a new purpose, a higher calling, a chance to change people’s lives and make them better. I wanted to take my brother’s death and turn it into something positive, as a kind of tribute to him. So, in between my bounty hunting, I searched for suitable twins and tried to help them love each other the way Keiichi and I did.”

Delving back into the last four years, I tell Bill and Tom about my other captives and how I set out to recreate the success I had with the Spanish brothers, putting other twins in the same kidnap situation to help ‘push’ them together in an intimate way. I was not always successful, at least not in the beginning. In particular, two Australian brothers called Jayden and Joshua gave me hell from the moment I took them. They’d just turned twenty one and were the typical good-looking Aussie surfer types with blond hair, blue eyes and deep tans all over their lithe bodies. They were obviously close but not as close as I had imagined they were, or could be. No matter what I did, or how I threatened them, they never, ever gave in to my demands and they never even considered crossing the line of their brotherly bond just to be set free. As they defiantly told me, they’d rather cut their own dicks off than fuck each other.

Now, Tom is stubborn but he’s nothing compared to those guys. And they were both as stubborn as could be. Neither of them wanted a sexual relationship with the other, not in the slightest. They found the idea utterly revolting. They fought me tooth and nail, swore bloody murder at me, refused any and all co-operation. In the end, I conceded defeat and had to let Jay and Josh go, chalking it up as a failed experiment.

My next subjects were two eighteen year old boys from Korea. Again, a lot of resistance. Anything they did do was motivated by fear of me, not by genuine desire for each other. Though I had gotten them to kiss and touch, I could tell they didn’t enjoy it one bit and it was highly uncomfortable to watch. So, that ended in another unsuccessful release. It got to the point that I was almost tearing my hair out wondering why my tactics weren’t working, when I’d hardly done anything with the Spaniards and got amazing results with them. After much research and analysing, I figured out that it was not my methods that had failed; rather it was my poor choice of subjects. That’s when I realised that not every pair of twins can be ‘triggered’ in such a way. They had to be born with Genetic Sexual Attraction in their DNA and those twins simply didn’t have it. Not all twins do. Without it, there’s no way they’ll ever be attracted to each other and any sexual contact between them would just feel inherently wrong and repulsive.

Once I worked that out, I chose my next captives much more carefully, observing them for weeks before I abducted them, just to make sure the attraction was there in the first place. The signs are quite subtle and easy to misread so I had to be certain that I wasn’t mistaken. I didn’t want to waste any more of my time, or anyone else’s.

My next attempt, two young men from a wealthy family in Mumbai, India, was a success. Finally, I had the winning formula. I took different types of twins (such as girl-girl twins and non-identical twins), as well as twins of varying nationalities and backgrounds, curious to see what effects their specific upbringing and beliefs had on their views of twincest and their ability or inability to accept it. For example, in traditional Balinese culture it was widely accepted, and even expected, that boy-girl twins would marry each other because they were thought to have already had sexual relations in the womb. I personally don’t believe that to be true but found the idea of twin marriage interesting.

Testing this theory, I abducted fraternal brother-sister twins when I was in Bali. Not from any of the teeming touristy towns but a proper little village where things are still done the old way. This experiment was also highly successful, probably in part because the siblings had prior knowledge of the customary rituals of the past and didn’t see twincest as unusual, not in their part of the world. If they’d come out about their relationship, relatives and family would most likely start arranging a wedding celebration, not cast them from the village. I think it’s a lovely tradition, actually. If twins want to get married, why the hell shouldn’t they?

“Excuse me, Koji,” Bill politely interrupts, with his hand raised like he’s in class at school.

“Yes?”

“How come you only took young twins?”

“Because they’re easier to work with. The older they are, the less likely it is that the twins will change their relationship. You know, people get more set in their ways as they age and if they’ve convinced themselves that being with their twin is wrong, even if they feel an attraction, then they are not likely to alter that belief after so many years. Young twins are more open to suggestion and much more experimental.”

“Seven sets of twins…that’s fourteen people you’ve kidnapped over the last four years. You’ve been busy,” Tom comments. “So, I guess we’re just another couple of test subjects to you, huh?”

“No, of course not!” I object, not wanting he or Bill to think that they’re simply another number to cross off on my notepad. “It’s true that I’ve taken a lot of twins in the past but none of them have meant as much to me as you guys do. I mean, I’ve told you things I never told the others. I’ve let you do things no-one else has been allowed to. I never brought any of the others back to my room and always maintained a careful distance from them. I don’t know why I’m breaking all those rules now,” I admit, “but I just feel so much closer to you boys than I have with anyone else I’ve taken. You’re very special to me. In fact, you’re my favourites.”

“We are?” Bill asks, sounding delighted.

“Absolutely. None of the others got a games room.” Remembering how terrified Bill and Tom were at the very beginning of their abduction, I say remorsefully, “I’m so sorry I had to separate you two and force you down here but it was the only way I could show you, the only way I could tell you my story. I’m sorry for frightening you and I apologise if you feel as though I’ve taken your free will away, or that I’ve pushed you into doing things you weren’t ready to do.”

Gazing beseechingly at Bill, I swear, “I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to help you and Tom.”

“I know,” Bill returns forgivingly, laying his hand on my arm, the first time he’s touched me in front of Tom, at least of his own choosing. “I understand now why you took me.”

I look to Tom. He doesn’t appear angry that Bill’s touching me. It seems he’s starting to accept the growing closeness between his little brother and me, even permitting it to a certain extent. After what Tom did to me the other day, it would be hypocritical of him to deny Bill this innocent touch of the arm. My mind racing, I imagine how things could be if he permitted more. Imagine if there were no secrets between any of us, no jealousy or possessiveness! Bill and I could have a romantic and sexual relationship. Tom and I could have one too. We could all have one together. My head fills with fanciful images and scenarios. I could teach these boys everything I know about twin-love and openly watch them in bed, even join in with them, everyone loving everyone at the same time. We could be a happy little threesome down here, forever and ever.

After thinking that, I realise it’s just an impossible fantasy. I wish I could keep both of them. But I can’t. They have busy lives to return to, careers to work on, albums to record, stadiums to fill. It’s a nice daydream, to imagine Bill and Tom as mine for the rest of time, but unfortunately it’s not reality. They don’t belong to me. They belong to the world. To their fans. To their family and their friends. To everyone who knows them and loves them. They’d be missed too much if I never let them go and I’d be denying them the full, rich lives they were born to live. As much as I’d love to, I simply can’t keep them forever.

But for the moment, while they’re here, they’re entirely mine.

“After all that talking, I think I need another cool drink,” I declare. “Bill, would you mind being a darling and fetching me one?” Now that my flush has faded away, I add, “Preferably something non-alcoholic?”

“Sure! We got Coke left, or more Sprite, or Schwip-Schwap. Which would you like?” He scrambles to his feet, keenly awaiting my answer.

“Surprise me. And get yourself and Tom another beer while you’re up. At least you guys can drink and enjoy it.”

“You got it,” he beams, racing down the hall like some skinny hotel bellhop on the first day of his new job, ready and willing to please.

His excitability makes me smile. I turn to Tom beside me on the bed. “He’s a sweetheart. Does it bother you, how he acts towards me?”

“It should but I haven’t seen him this happy in ages,” the dreadlocked boy grudgingly admits. “He’s happy you came back and didn’t leave us.”

“What about you?” I ask, gazing at him searchingly. “Are you happy to see me too, Tom?”

He gives a clumsy shrug, avoiding my eyes.

“I hope you are,” I confess. “Because I’m happy to see you. I’ve missed you quite a lot these last couple of days, you know.”

Tom lifts his glance with a shyness that’s unusual for him. “You have?”

“Definitely. I’ve missed our daily talks and meetings. I’ve even missed the disagreements and disputes. I’ve never enjoyed arguing with anyone as much I do with you, Tommy-gun. You really get me all fired up.” I give him a saucy smirk. “In more ways than one.”

I know I’m flirting outrageously but I just can’t help myself. I’ve always wanted to tell Tom what I really think about him and the drugs I’m on just make it even easier to do that. He doesn’t answer; it’s like he’s embarrassed and doesn’t know what to say. Smiling at his bashfulness, I catch one of Tom’s long dreadlocks between my fingers, exploring its tightly-knotted length. The texture of his dreads is fascinating, like crude, hand-made ropes yet they still retain softness and a sensual weight that slides over my palm, the way I’d love them to slide over my naked body. He watches me out of the corner of his eye but allows me to do this, to intimately touch a part of him. Even if the matted hair itself has no feeling, he can still feel the slight tugging on his scalp as I roll and twist it between my fingertips. He makes no motion to stop me so I grow bolder, moving my hand across to his cheek and softly sweeping over it. He flinches a bit, yet lets me do it.

He has three-quarters of a scraggy brown beard going on but under those bristly whiskers his skin is amazing, so clear and flawless for someone who’s essentially still a teenager. At his age I still had acne but Tom doesn’t have any. Not a single spot. The only blemishes on his face are a couple of light chocolate moles on his right cheek and even they aren’t blemishes but beauty marks, highlighting how perfect his tanned complexion is.

“You’re so beautiful, Tom Kaulitz,” I murmur as I stroke his cheekbone, caressing its smoothness and savouring the warmth rising in his face. He’s not quite blushing but he’s undeniably affected by what I’m doing and saying, and how tenderly I’m touching him. He’s not used to this, seeing the nicer, more affectionate side of me. Especially when it’s directed at him.

“You know what we did the other day? Or rather, what you did to me,” I concede, realising I didn’t do much at all except take it. “I enjoyed that very much and would love to do it again sometime soon.”

Tom stares at me like I’m insane, wondering why I’d even contemplate letting him near my ass again after what he did to my face first.

“How many other twins have you done that with?”

“I already told you, Tom. None. Since my brother died, you’re the first person who’s ever been allowed to touch me like that.”

“Why me? Why did you let me do it?”

“Because I wanted to. Although, next time we could perhaps skip all the excessively violent foreplay. Everything else though…God, it was good.”

“It was?” His voice is a disbelieving whisper.

“Mm.” Purring with desire, I recall how thrilling it felt to have him pressed firmly against me, his body hard and demanding against mine as he growled in my ear, the back of my thighs tingling in remembrance. “You were so damn sexy.”

“But…I hurt you.”

“Yes, but it’s only because we rushed. I remember a lot of pleasure too. You still managed to make me come all over the floor.”

Tom’s breath catches at my bluntly spoken reminder, the heat in his cheeks deepening. “Are you going to tell Bill?”

“No. That’s your job, Tom.”

“I don’t want him to find out!”

“Well, that’s up to you. But he’ll probably know if you keep secrets from him. I always knew when my brother was lying to me. Anyway, Bill will probably be a lot more understanding about it than you think.”

“Just don’t tell him, okay?” Tom begs.

“My lips are sealed. Unless you want me to kiss you,” I tease flirtatiously. “Which I totally would, by the way.”

His cheeks darken further. Since I’m being so candidly honest, and since he’s actually listening to what I’m saying without calling me a sick son of a bitch or other insulting names, I decide to tell him something that’s been bugging me, something I haven’t been able to say until now, something he needs to hear as well.

“Tom, I want to express my sincere regret for all the times I’ve attacked you or forced you to submit to me. I was only trying to teach you lessons but I realise that I may have been going about it the wrong way. I know how much pain, anger and humiliation I’ve caused you and I want to say that I’m sorry. Truly sorry.”

I gently stroke under his ear, knowing how a light touch on this pressure point can induce pleasant shivers, rather than crippling agony.

“I never really wanted to hurt you or see you suffer. For every one of those cruel things I did or said, I’d have much rather kissed you, or taken you to bed and shown you just how beautiful I think you really are.”

“Don’t,” he says lowly. “Don’t be nice.”

“Why not?” I give a small smile. “Does it make you like me?”

“I don’t like you,” he replies gruffly but it doesn’t come out very convincing.

Especially not when he’s still letting me touch him, my thumb stroking across his soft bottom lip, toying with the steel ring in his flesh.

Drawn that erotically-placed crescent of silver at the corner of his mouth, I slowly begin to lean in towards Tom, wanting to lick it and tug it in my teeth. Forget my bruised mouth and sore jaw; matter how much it hurts I want to kiss this boy. It seems he intends to let me do that because he stays very still and very quiet, dropping his lashes in fearful anticipation. He’s afraid of being so close to me but he’s also excited by it. I can almost hear his heart pounding and when I slip my hand under his chin I can feel it too, his pulse beating like a drum beneath his skin. It’s almost beating as fast as mine was earlier.

At the last moment, just before our lips are about to connect, Bill’s light, skipping footsteps come pattering down the hallway and interrupt us. Realising what he almost let me do, Tom jerks away and scoots across the bed, putting as much space between me and him as possible before Bill sails through the door, carrying three cans.

“Sorry I took so long. I had to use the bathroom,” the younger twin unnecessarily announces, totally missing the tension between Tom and me.

Or maybe not totally because he halts and divides his curious gaze between us.

“Did I miss something?”

“No,” Tom quickly answers. Bill looks to me and I smile and shake my head.

“Nothing at all, Bill. Now, what did you get me?”

“Schwip-Schwap?” As he holds it out to me, his expression is anxious, hoping he made the right decision. After all, not everyone likes orange flavouring mixed with their cola.

“Great choice. I like Schwip-Schwap.” Accepting the can, I wink flirtatiously at him. “And I also like you, cutie.”

Glowing with pleasure, he grins and sits directly next to me, flattered that I’m hitting on him so openly. His thigh touches mine, deliberately, and I bump him back with good-natured affection. I glance to Tom, checking his reaction but he doesn’t appear resentful or annoyed that I’m paying Bill such blatant attention, as he would have been only a few days ago. Now, the older teen just seems quiet and thoughtful as he watches us, pressing his pierced lips together in that unconsciously habitual way of his.

“Your big brother too.”

After I say that, they both look at me in surprise.

“What? You like Tom?”

“I do. More than he thinks.”

This news seems to thrill Bill, an excited light sparking in his eyes. Playing matchmaker, he elbows his twin in the side and prompts, “Tom? Do you like Koji?”

Tom pretends to scowl. “No.”

“Aw, come on, Tommy,” I join in light-heartedly. “I let you beat the crap out of me. I thought that was pretty generous. You still don’t like me after that?”

My gentle joking makes Tom drop his eyes. “All right, I guess I don’t hate you anymore,” he mumbles with a shrug. “At least, not as much as I used to.”

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.” I smile and nudge his knee with mine. I wouldn’t normally do this - act so friendly and free around my captives - but tonight I feel compelled to indulge them, make it up to the boys and make them feel special after locking the door and ignoring the poor things for so long. Once the painkiller-high wears off, I’m probably going to regret everything I’ve said and done, but right now I’m enjoying this teasing banter. And you know what?

I think Tom sort of enjoys it too.

Not that he’d ever admit it.
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Captivation