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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
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That night Georg is sprawled on his stomach on a soft, king-sized bed with clean linen sheets, deep in sleep, his face sinking comfortably into a puffy pillow. He is unexpectedly woken from his slumber by a low, hair-prickling growl rumbling in the darkness.

“Ernie?” he mumbles, groggily rolling over and feeling beside the bed for his dog, finding nothing but carpet. There is a thump in the room and then the growling gets louder and more menacing. Alarm rushes through him and Georg is suddenly wide awake, sitting bolt upright, flinging back his blankets and fumbling for the bedside lamp. There must be a girl in here, some stalker. He’s had problems with obsessive fans before. That’s why he keeps Ernie with him. Light floods the room and Georg blinks in disbelief at the scene revealed before him. There is his tiny dog Ernie, hackles bristling, snarling like a hound of hell and bailing up some terrorized intruder in a corner of the hotel room. But it isn’t a girl.

The figure pressed tight into the join between two walls yelps, “For fuck’s sake, call off Cujo, man!”

“Tom? What the...?” Georg stumbles out of bed in his boxer shorts, rubbing his eyes and wondering if he’s dreaming.

The small black canine advances on Tom, lips pulled back and pointed teeth showing, steadily putting one doggy paw in front of the other. Even though Georg’s dog is only little, Tom still squeaks in fear, trying to wedge himself further into the corner, eyes huge in his frightened face, looking like a frantic ferret trying to hide.

“Dude, stop him! He’s gonna bite me!”

“Back, Ernie,” Georg orders. “Friend.”

As soon as Georg says that magic word, the dog switches off attack mode, trotting up to Georg and wagging his tail, grinning sheepishly up at his master as if saying that he was only doing his job.

“Good boy,” Georg says, patting his furry head. “Now go show Tom that you’re harmless. Go on.”

At Georg’s gentle shove, the dog saunters back up to Tom, who automatically recoils but Ernie just sniffs his sneakers and jeans, as if familiarizing himself with the strange human’s scent, and then licks Tom’s hand, pushing his wet nose into the actor’s palm, asking for a scratch.

“You can pat him,” Georg encourages, in an effort to take that look of dread from Tom’s face. “He won’t bite you. He knows you’re a friend.”

The younger actor tentatively lays his palm on Ernie’s head. When he sees that the dog is not going to rip his fingers off Tom perceptibly relaxes, gaining more confidence with the animal, petting his coarse fur.

“Tom, meet Ernie,” Georg belatedly introduces.

“They let you keep dogs in hotel rooms now?” Tom asks sceptically, fondling Ernie’s fuzzy ear, the dog’s tongue lolling out happily.

“You’d be amazed at what they let you get away with if you’re a celebrity. You should know that by now,” Georg points out with some sarcasm. He scratches his head and frowns at his uninvited visitor. “How did you get in here? You need a key card.”

“No, I don’t.”

Drolly, Georg replies, “Of course. If anyone knows how to break and enter, it’s you. ”

“Well, it’s a handy skill to have,” Tom parries. He flashes a naughty grin. “But doors aren’t the only thing I’m good at entering...”

The R-rated innuendo weighs heavily in the atmosphere and Georg’s heart starts to thump. Leaving the dog sitting on the floor, Tom makes his way over to Georg with slow, purposeful intent, stalking towards him, eyeing the thirty year-old man up and down, eyeing the fit, tanned male body that is only covered by a pair of navy boxer shorts. The boxers have ridden down during sleep and the top of Georg's dark, curling pubic patch peeps out from behind the waistband. His hair may be longer and lighter but Georg still has the same rippling six-pack stomach, the same bulging biceps, the same solid pectorals, the same bronzed skin enclosing all that hard flesh. He still has the trim waist and chiseled, v-shaped hips, the broad shoulders and strong thighs. He’s still hot. And Tom still wants him.

At the predatory hunger in Tom’s face, Georg’s gut tightens, feeling very naked and exposed, like a hare scampering through an open field with a keen-eyed owl swooping down upon it, talons outstretched, ready for the kill. He steps backwards, gulping.

“Ah, Tom, I think you should stay back...”

The dissuading doesn’t work and Tom smiles mischievously, stepping closer, right in front of the older man now. Tom’s chin is lowered and he is gazing up at Georg, his gaze saturated with sultry sexuality. Georg stands there unable to move as Tom lightly glides tattooed fingers along his bare arm, causing all the hairs on it to stick up as if with static electricity. When Tom touches Georg, it is like being touched by an angel and a devil at once. That’s how it felt back when they were in one of their trailers on the studio lot and the feeling hasn’t altered over time.

Very slowly, Tom’s tongue pokes from between his teeth and he runs the tip of it over the two metal rings in the corner of his plump bottom lip, coating them with saliva and making them shine wetly. Against his will, Georg is fixated upon the other male’s glistening mouth and he unconsciously licks his own lips, caught in the spell of Tom’s seduction, wondering if the younger male still tastes the same. Knowing he has landed his fish hook, line and sinker, Tom slides his hand up over Georg’s freckled shoulder, clutching him by the back of the neck under that long, golden-brown hair. He assertively yanks Georg forward, smashing their mouths together. With an abruptness neither of them see coming, both of Georg’s palms hit Tom flat in the chest and he shoves the bearded male away with a fierce heave, Tom stumbling back and almost losing balance.

At the flurry of motion Ernie stands alert and whines, ears folded back, ready to defend Georg, thinking that Tom is trying to hurt his master.

“It’s all right, Ernie. Go lie down. Go,” Georg instructs with a wave. The dog gives another uncertain whine but slinks over to the side of the bed and flops onto the carpet, putting his head on his paws, big brown eyes watching the two actors worriedly.

Now that his pet is subdued, Georg hisses to Tom, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Tom wipes his mouth, some loose bits of hair hanging in his face. “I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Do you really expect me to just let you kiss me as if nothing’s changed?” Georg spreads his hands incredulously. “What makes you think I still have a thing for you after all this time?”

“Well, don’t you?” Tom tucks his escaped brunette locks back behind a pair of pierced ears and pointedly looks at Georg, challenging him to deny it. “You were flirting with me today.”

“I wasn’t...it... That’s not the issue.” Georg shakes his head in irritation, his straight hair swaying with the movement. “Even if I was flirting with you – and I’m not saying that’s true – what gives you the right to barge into my hotel room in the middle of the night? I don’t remember inviting you here. If I wanted to, I could call the cops and get you charged for stalking and harassment.”

“You won’t do that.”

“Yeah? And why won’t I?”

“Because you want me. I know you do,” Tom says confidently. “I saw it in your eyes this afternoon and I’m still seeing it now. I can read you like a book, Listing. You never were any good at hiding how you feel.”

“Oh, you think you know how I feel, huh?” Georg snaps, infuriated at the other actor’s arrogance. “Well, let me tell you something. You don’t know shit!”

Tom’s gaze remains level. “I know what I see.”

“And what’s that?”

“That this isn’t over.”

Georg’s eyes turn to stone. “Yes it is. It’s been over since you walked out on me.”

Undaunted by the second man’s wrath, Tom pries, “Are you married? Engaged?”

“No, but-”

“Then there’s no reason why we can’t pick up where we left off,” he interrupts, reaching out to Georg again. Tersely, Georg smacks his arm aside, glaring at the other guy and trying to figure out what’s going on. He doesn’t have the best memory in the world but Georg recalls all too clearly that it was Tom who broke up with him. Tom was the one who ended it. And now he’s trying to start it all up again. Why would he want to do that? It’s a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. Georg is fine with the two of them being friends but they can’t be any more than that because he knows exactly how it will turn out. Tom will make Georg fall in love with him for the second time and Georg will be devastated once more when Tom runs away from him for the second time. The older male sucks in a startled breath as a realization wallops him right between the eyes. He doesn’t have to fall in love with Tom again.

The emotion he had for Tom all those years ago didn’t die away. It’s been there inside him hibernating and only woke up today when Tom appeared beside his table like a rabbit out of a hat. Though it’s been half a decade and he’s had other relationships in that period, Georg still holds a flame for the kid. And it burns just as bright as it always did. That the same desire still roars within him like an uncontrolled bushfire is frightening to Georg but what freaks him out even more is how supremely strong it is. That desire is pulling at him as if he is made of iron filings and Tom is a giant magnet. The force of the attraction is so powerful, so potent, so overwhelming. It’s as though he has no command of his body whatsoever. As an actor, command over himself is a skill Georg values very highly and when that power is taken away from him it makes him feel as though he has been flung from a catapult and is hurtling through the air in panic, arms and legs flailing wildly, not knowing where he’s going to land or how many bones he’s going to break. It’s terrifying and that’s why he pushed Tom away instead of returning the kiss.

He can’t kiss Tom. If he does, he’ll lose control. If he loses control, he will be sorry later. To prevent that from occurring, Georg dredges up the other feeling burning in him, the anger, concentrating on that as it is the more logical emotion. Desire makes him want to do crazy, reckless, passionate things with his former lover but anger firmly reminds him of what will happen if he gives in to his foolish fancies. Disaster will happen. Tragedy will happen. Heartbreak will happen. All over again. Georg has been through enough agony in his life already. He doesn’t need any more. Yes, his old pal anger will stop him from doing something he will regret. Anger will protect him from being hurt again and so he lets it envelop him in a hot surge, directing his pent-up rage towards the long-haired trespasser in his room.

“Why are you doing this?” Georg demands. The younger actor seemed the same when they talked over coffee but what if Tom has changed from the streetwise yet sensitive boy he once knew? What if Tom has been spoiled by the excesses of fame and wealth?

“Are you using me to feed your big-shot superstar ego? Are you doing this because you want to remind me of what I’m missing? Of what I can’t have?” Georg bunches his fists. “Just what kind of cruel game are you playing with me, Tom Trumper?”

Tom puts on a very convincing expression of innocence. “I’m not playing a game, man.”

“Then what is it? Sex?” Georg’s gaze narrows shrewdly. “Let me guess; you want to get laid because your girlfriend isn’t here and you can get away with it? You want some dick on the side before you go home to Bill? Well, forget it. I helped you cheat on her once; I won’t do it again.”

“But it won’t be cheating this time because-” Tom starts to insist but he gets cut off.

“Save your pathetic excuses! I don’t want to go through this shit again,” Georg barks, flooded with unpleasant memories of the past. “I wish you hadn’t come into that café today, Tom. I wish you’d just kept on walking. I wish you’d just left me the fuck alone!”

Tom blinks. It looks like Georg, walks like Georg but who the hell is this swearing, snarling stranger wearing the Georg suit? Eyes widening, Tom says, “You’re different.”

“Well, it’s been five whole years. What did you expect? Did you think I’d still be the same naïve idiot I was then?” Georg rebounds, pacing the room to stop himself from punching something, most notably Tom’s all-too-pretty face. “Back then, I cared about everything. Especially about you. And I thought you cared about me too. I thought that you were going to leave your girlfriend for me. But you didn’t. You made love to me and then you dumped me, in the space of twenty four hours! How could you do that to me, you heartless little fucker?”

Georg kicks over a chair, and both Tom and Ernie cringe at the savagery of the act.

“You gave me what I wanted and then took it all away from me the very next day!” Georg shouts. “You walked out that door and you never looked back, you son of a bitch.”

Witnessing this violent angle of Georg emerging is like watching a poodle turn into a blood-thirsty werewolf and Tom is speechless by the transformation.

“You couldn’t have hurt me more if you’d blown a hole clean through here with a sawn-off shotgun.” Georg pounds his breastbone with an enraged fist. “I’ve never been the same after that. Now, thanks to you, I’m not so gullible. I learned the hard way that nice guys get taken advantage of. But I won’t let that happen again. I’m not passive anymore. I’m not submissive. I’ve found my aggressive side and it’s done more for me than being nice ever did. The way I am now is all because of YOU. It’s your fault I’m different, Tom.”

Georg stabs an accusatory finger at the younger man. “You’re the one to blame. You made me fall in love with you and then you broke my fucking heart!”

At the fury emanating from Georg like a heat wave, Tom takes an involuntary step in the opposite direction. Georg looks pissed enough to hit him. He’s got the whole nostril-flaring, chest-heaving, jaw-clenching thing going on. Once upon a time Tom would have sworn with absolute confidence that Georg would never lay a hand on him in anger but now he’s not so sure. He’s never seen Georg so livid.

“However, I’m not making that mistake again,” the older man vows. “You wanna see how different I am? Here, let me show you.”

With those words, Georg stomps over to Tom, grabbing hold of him with rough hands and pushing the bearded male against the wall. Smashing their lips together, he takes Tom’s mouth hard, crushing his lip-rings. Georg kisses him so savagely that Tom whimpers in protest and pushes at his chest to stop but Georg won’t stop until Tom gives in. Using every ounce of strength in his muscled arms and body, Georg pins Tom to the wall, holds his head still and just keeps brutally kissing him. Realising that giving in is his only choice, the younger actor lets himself goes limp and receptive, Tom taking the domineering thrust of Georg’s tongue and the punishing crush of his lips without complaint.

Only then does Georg slow down the kiss, making it gentler and less forceful, inviting and allowing Tom to respond. And Tom does. Moaning low in his throat, Tom meets Georg’s kiss with his own, touching their tongues tentatively but willingly. Instead of pushing at Georg’s chest, Tom begins to caress it, his calloused fingers stroking submissively against the other man’s naked flesh. Without words, Tom is saying that he accepts Georg as the dominant partner and accepts what the older actor is going to do to him. When he feels this acceptance, Georg drags his mouth away, leaving Tom’s lips sore and bruised. Georg can taste blood on his tongue, probably from the site of Tom’s piercings which must have torn a little.

They are both panting. It seems as though they fought rather than kissed, as though it was a gladiatorial battle that the stronger male won. Or lost, depending on whose viewpoint is considered. Given that Georg was the aggressor and forced Tom to submit, he should feel as though he’s the victor but the older man is strangely defeated, as if all he’s accomplished by this is prove how much he still wants Tom. And Lord help him, he does. He wants his ex-boyfriend just as much as he always did, if not more now despite all the ugly things he called Tom mere moments ago. His arms have somehow wound around the tattooed guitarist, holding him close, and Georg doesn’t even remember doing it. His face is in Tom’s shoulder and he doesn’t want to move. He wants to stay there hugging Tom and breathing in the scent of his hair but Georg knows that doing so would only show his own humiliating weaknesses, the flaws and failings that he has tried so hard to hide.

Being nice to Tom would only show the undeserving hell-spawn that he is the winner and Georg will be damned if he will relinquish his power now that he has asserted it. Tom is never going to get the better of him again. Georg would rather walk through a sea of scorpions in his bare feet than let that happen. Instead of giving Tom an ounce more of affection, he withdraws and steps away.

“If you’re just here for sex, then you’re going home disappointed,” Georg mutters. “I’m not one of your infatuated fans, Tom.”

The green-eyed male crosses to the bedside table and gets a cigarette, lighting the end of it and drawing in the first puff of smoke. Georg was doing fine with his attempt at quitting smoking until Tom broke up with him. Since then, he hasn’t stopped. He exhales towards the ceiling, not looking at the other young man.

“So, tell me, kid; now that you’re famous, how many guys have you fucked over the years?” Georg asks, trying to keep the jealousy out of his words but not succeeding very well.

“A few,” Tom concedes, sitting on the carpeted floor, back to the wall, drawing his knees up and hugging his legs as if to shield himself from Georg’s temper which seems to be persisting even after the bruising kiss. He licks his slightly bleeding lip.

“But none have fucked me. I haven’t let anyone do that yet. I would have let you, though, G.”

Georg makes a noise of derision - a short, a humourless laugh. “You don’t have to spare my feelings. I’m not stupid enough to believe that.”

Hugging his legs tighter, Tom timidly replies, “It’s true. I never told you this but I always wanted you to be my first. I was planning to ask you on the last day of shooting. But, well...by then we were barely speaking. And I’ve never thought about asking anyone since.”

“So, you’re still a virgin?”

“Yeah. I am.” The meekness in Tom’s tone and the vulnerability in his chocolate eyes imply that he is not lying.

Georg stands still, frowning at his ex-co-star. “Why are you telling me this?”

Tom lifts his shoulder. “I told you – I wanted you to be the one to take it.”

“But why me? I’m not the only guy in the world.”

“I realise that.”

Pointing a finger at his unexpected guest, Georg demands, “Cut the crap and tell me the truth. Why are you really here, Tom? What do you want? And don’t bullshit me or I’ll set Ernie on you again.”

Tom glances at the well-trained dog whose ears have pricked up upon hearing his name and the bearded actor swallows, not wanting to take his chances with all the sharp, carnivorous teeth hiding under those furry lips.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll tell you,” he says quickly. Tom takes a breath and rattles off his explanation. “When I saw you across the street today, Georg, it was like fate. It was like some higher power was telling me something and I don’t get that feeling often. I just had this really strong urge to go talk to you and I couldn’t ignore it. I had to see if there was still anything between us. If there wasn’t, I was gonna walk away. But when I saw that there was... Dude, I’ve been thinking about you all day. And knowing that you’re so close... Long story short – here I am.”

“Great speech. Very eloquent.” Georg folds his arms across his chest. “But you still haven’t answered my question. What exactly do you want from me?”

“I want to ask you something.”

“Well, ask.”

“I know that you loved me once,” Tom states, remembering how Georg almost told him the night they split up. “Do you still?”

Georg stiffens as Tom’s query cuts too close to the bone. He grates out, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I need to know,” Tom insists. “Do you?”

Georg flares his nostrils, nearly ready to wring the guitarist’s hairy neck for being so damn nosy and raking over the embers of the past, stirring them back into painful life. He draws deeply on his cigarette and considers denying his own feelings but eventually releases the smoke in an annoyed huff. “What do you think?”

Tom thinks that brusque answer is as close to a “yes,” as he’s going to get.

“I don’t see why it matters anyway,” Georg carries on in a mutter, tapping ash into a glass tray on top of the bedside table. “It’s not like you ever loved me.”

After a short pause, Tom says quietly, “Don’t be so sure about that.”
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