Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

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

Chapter List
- 30
- 31
- 32
A/N: Hope you guys had a happy Easter! Here's my gift to you all - TOMJI!! :D Contains graphic solo Koji and Koji/Tom so if you don't like the idea of that, don't read. Everybody else, please enjoy the visual feast! (preferably with a nice cup of saké...)

Chapter 31. Teacher and Student

Still speechless by what’s happening, Tom sits there and watches me with his wide coffee-brown gaze. I slip my shirt off and drape it across the back of the chair in my room. Then I remove my military-style boots and socks, nudging them under the bed with my foot. I reach for my trouser zipper and that’s when Tom interrupts me.

“Wait, wait. Keep your pants on for a minute, okay?” He holds up a halting hand, looking more than a little freaked out. “If we’re gonna do this, I’m gonna need a fucking drink. Or five.”

“You want me to get you drunk first, Tommy? You little tart,” I tease him but he’s not smiling. In fact, he looks terrified and I’ve only bared my chest so far. Poor kid. This is all new to him. It’s not to me so I go to my cupboard (not the weapons one) and fetch a dark glass bottle with Japanese writing on the label and two small ceramic cups.

“Here,” I say, filling the cups with clear, faintly yellow liquid and passing one to Tom. “This ought to take the edge off your nerves.”

He sniffs it, making a puzzled face at the unfamiliarly pungent smell. “What is this? It smells like methylated spirits.”

“It’s saké, Japanese rice wine. Tastes better than it smells. Go easy, as it’s pretty strong stuff.”

He peers at me suspiciously.

“It’s not drugged, Tom,” I tell him with patience. “If I wanted to attack you and have my way with your body, I would just do it. I wouldn’t need to drug you. It’s just alcohol.”

“Why do you have this, if you don’t even drink?”

“I didn’t say I NEVER drink. I like to have a sip of saké every now and again. It reminds me of home. Plus it’s one of the very few drinks I can handle without getting the Asian Flush,” I tell Tom, clinking his cup ceremoniously with my own before taking a swig of the potent, faintly fruity liquor to prove to him it’s perfectly safe. If it could be compared to anything, I’d say it would remind Tom of dry white wine. I’m sure he and Bill would have gotten smashed on wine before, either at awards ceremonies or in hotel rooms after raiding the mini bar. Only this is a hell of a lot stronger than Chardonnay.

After a tentative taste to ensure that what I gave him is drinkable, Tom tilts back his head and throws it down in one big swallow like a shot of vodka, which he shouldn’t do as saké is not meant to be consumed that way. It’s supposed to be sipped, not chugged. He feels the burn in his throat and gullet straight away, the dreadlocked teen coughing as he starts warming up from the inside.

“More,” he wheezes, holding out his cup to be refilled, even though his eyes are watering. I lift a dubious brow at him but pour another one which he promptly tosses back as well. After his third shot, I put the bottle cap back on. Tipsy is fine but I don’t want Tom to get too intoxicated or he won’t remember any of this and therefore my teachings will be a waste of time.

“Feel better?” I ask him, noting the slight pinkness in his cheeks as the high-percentage alcohol takes effect.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He wipes his lips with his sleeve, giving me back my empty cup. “You weren’t kidding. That shit IS strong.”

“Strong enough for me to keep going?”

He nods, sliding his sweaty palms along the thighs of his jeans to dry them off before settling back on the bed. Now that he’s not so petrified, I continue where I left off. Unlike him, I don’t need to be drunk to do this. Unzipping, I slip my pants down to have them join the shirt on the chair back and Tom sees my leg-scar for the first time. He knows what caused it because Bill told him about my blood poisoning one night. He stares at the scarred strip of flesh on my calf for a few seconds before he’s distracted by my trunks which are black and quite form-fitting. Nobody usually sees me in my underwear these days so I’m strangely self-conscious about stripping off in front of Tom, but I shouldn’t be as he’s already seen my most private parts.

He just didn’t really see the front of me.

“Am I attractive to you, Tom?” I enquire as I stand there shirtless, not mocking him but asking a genuine question.

“You’re all right, I suppose.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “For a guy.”

He’s acting like I’m nothing special but I can see his eyes linger on my naturally silken oriental skin and the way my hair shines with a golden lustre, falling thickly over my shoulders and down my back in a lengthy glossy mane. My brother loved it long and we both wore our hair the same so I’ll never, ever cut it short. Tom seems to like my hair too, maybe because it’s the most feminine thing on me. He gazes at my smooth chest, at the raisin-brown darkness of my flat male nipples and the leanness and fitness of my torso and arms, every part of me honed and firmed from years of strict martial arts training. My stomach has a hard, ridged appearance much like his and I have the same flesh-lines carved along my whittled hips. Tom’s gaze automatically travels down my thighs and legs – which are strong and virtually hairless – noting our differences and our similarities, and when he realises that he’s staring at me he glances back up in mortified shame, as if his sexuality is betraying him.

“Looking at another man’s body doesn’t make you gay,” I comment in amusement, sitting back on the bed and folding one of my legs underneath me.

“But it might make me bi, right?” He uncertainly chews his lip. “You think that’s what I am?”

“I think everybody is bisexual to some degree.” Leaning to the side, I toss my hair over one shoulder, gazing at Tom with open acceptance. “People just go around believing that they’re straight - until the day they meet someone who changes their mind.”

“And you’re that someone?”

“Possibly.” Smirking, I add, “Fucked any other guys lately, have you?”

Rolling his eyes, he mumbles, “Course not.”

“Being bi doesn’t mean you have to give up the ladies, Tom. You can still enjoy their company just as much as you always have. It just means you sometimes enjoy the company of a male as well. And I’m here to teach you how, safely.” I beckon him to move closer, encouraging rather than ordering. “Come on. Be brave.”

After downing all that saké for courage, he shifts nearer, although he’s still looking unsure of what he’s meant to do next. I’ll show him but I want to keep Tom within arm’s reach in case he freaks out and tries to run away back to Hetero Land. I don’t want him to be afraid of what we’re doing; I’d much prefer him to take pleasure in it and embrace his bisexuality because it really is a wonderful thing and so much fun.

“Touch me, Tom.” Taking his hand, I guide it to my chest and my excitedly pounding heart. “I want you to touch me. Everywhere.”

He only stares at what I’m offering to him before he loses his bravery and quickly removes his hand, appearing undecided. It’s like he wants to do it, perhaps to prove that he’s not a pussy, but doesn’t want to go that far at the same time. Not wanting him to be so conflicted, I smile reassuringly.

“If you’re not ready to do that, you don’t have to. Perhaps you can just watch me,” I propose, inclining my head in invitation. “Do you like to watch, Tommy?”

“I...don’t know,” he returns in bewilderment, never having had the chance to be a voyeur before.

“Well, I do. And you should too. It’s highly enjoyable,” I reply as I get up and duck into the bathroom.

Tom peers at me with a hazed, alcohol-affected gaze as I return and make myself comfortable on the bed, sitting against the wall with pillows behind my back and a towel underneath me. I still have my underwear on and I bring my knees up, letting my legs fall apart.

“You’ve done this a lot, then?” Tom asks nervously, his words slurring a bit.

“What – had an audience? Yeah. My brother and I would often do things like this when we invited other people into our bed. I learned a lot about men that way, having threesomes. Some men are dominant and some are submissive. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you’re a dominant male,” I say to Tom with a quirk of my lips. “Therefore, you need to take the lead when you’re with another guy and you need to get him prepared for sex. That’s your responsibility. Guys don’t get wet like girls. If you don’t do the right preparation, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch, like it did when you first shoved into me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, appearing abashed. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. That’s why you’re here now. So you can learn.”

As I talk, I start skimming my fingers down my neck and across the top of my chest, awakening the nerves beneath my skin.

“Obviously, when you get together with a guy, you begin as you would with a girl: kissing and so forth. Some bisexual guys will suck dick but they don’t like to kiss other guys on the mouth because they think it’s too ‘gay’ or whatever, but I think that’s stupid. I won’t be with anyone who can’t even kiss me.”

“Yeah, that is stupid,” Tom agrees, his eyes following my hand as it makes its way up my throat to my jaw line. “If you’re gonna do one thing, you may as well do the other.”

“Exactly. Do you think you’ll have a problem with kissing guys?”

“Depends.” Tom crinkles his brow. “If I like them enough, I guess I’ll do it.”

“Would you kiss ME, Tom?” I dare to ask, swiping the pad of my thumb sensuously over my bottom lip.

Gulping, Tom tries to answer truthfully without insulting me. “Erm...I’m not sure I like you enough yet.”

“That’s okay.” I smile flirtatiously at him, lowering my lashes. “Hopefully you will, in time.”

He gazes at my hand as it travels downward again, the guitarist listening to the advice that accompanies each motion.

“You can kiss the guy’s neck, here, and his shoulder, if his shirt’s already off. Then you can go down and keep kissing along his chest. This works whether you’re lying on a bed or couch, or standing up, such as in a club bathroom. Before you go to town on a guy’s nipples, it’s a good idea to do a test lick first, to see if he likes it. Some guys don’t. Some guys have no sensation in their nipples whatsoever.”

“My brother does,” Tom volunteers without thinking, talking about how Bill gasped and arched up into Tom’s mouth on the bouncy boxing ring floor that night.

“So do I,” I reply, circling around one of my flat male nubs, causing it to tighten. “What about you, Tom? Do you like it?”

“I don’t know. Nobody’s ever done that to me,” he admits. He’s probably never let anybody do it either, neither girlfriends nor one night stands, for fear of not seeming ‘manly’ or masculine.

Licking a fingertip provocatively, I say, “Well, if you ever wanna find out, let me know.”

He just gulps again, trying not to look overwhelmed as I wet my nipple and play with it, something he’s probably only seen a girl do.

“Next,” I carry on, tracing the outlines of my abdomen, navel and six-pack, “you may kiss or lick along the guy’s stomach and bellybutton. Some men are particularly sensitive there and it’s a great way to drive them crazy. Then you can get his pants undone or off and perform oral sex on him if you wish. I can’t really tell you how to do that; it’s something you need to try and learn for yourself. Everyone has different techniques with their lips and tongue. You don’t need to deep-throat and don’t let anybody try to force you to. Only you can decide how far you’re willing to go. Frankly, Tom, anyone who gets to feel your gorgeous mouth on any part of their body ought to be extremely honoured. I know I would be.”

Talking about this with the older Kaulitz twin (and imagining what he can do with his sexy lip-ring) is really getting me going and my hard-on is visible beneath the underwear I still have on. I tantalisingly rub myself through the cotton material, then hook a thumb into the waistband and pull it down, revealing what’s under there with deliberate slowness so that Tom has time to steel himself for the sight of my cock. He eyes it with interest, having only seen one other in real life and that’s Bill’s, which essentially looks the same as his. But mine is different. It’s darker and a different design, more tapered and elegantly shaped than his thick, blunt instrument. The thatch of curls above it are jet-black and emphasise the bronze hue of my skin.

“I personally enjoy sucking guys off,” I tell Tom, cupping my dick and giving it a gentle squeeze, purely for the erotic kick it produces, “but if you don’t want to do that when you’re with someone, you can simply stimulate him with your hand. That part is not difficult; just do what you’d do to yourself.”

Lifting my butt off the bed, I slip my trunks down my hips and remove them completely, now finally naked except for my dragon necklace. My palm skims along my belly and I coil my fingers around my engorged length again, leisurely stroking up and down my erect flesh, groaning and arching my spine sensually for Tom’s benefit.

Bill asked me to teach his big brother ‘sex stuff’. I keep telling myself that that’s what I’m doing, teaching by example, but part of me knows I’m also getting off on it in an exhibitionistic kind of way. After all, I used to enjoy putting on shows like this for other people, when Keiichi and I would hook up with anonymous third parties we contacted on the internet. Though I have not done it in years, I’m definitely no stranger to having another person’s eyes on me as I touch my own body. In fact, I’ve actually missed this – seeing the reaction of the other party involved and the heady excitement it gives me, being the one to turn them on. I know this whole scene is turning Tom on because his breathing is getting quicker and his pupils have dilated.

“Some guys are happy with just a hand job,” I inform my trainee. “Some will want more. If you’re doing everything right, then he’ll probably ask you to fuck him. Before you go ahead and do it, you’ll need some of this.”

Reaching into the set of drawers beside the bed, I show him a tube of gel lubricant that I sometimes use for masturbation purposes. I left some of the same lube in their bedside drawer as well but the twins haven’t opened it yet. They’ve probably forgotten it is there.

“You need to use your fingers to get the other guy ready. Stretch them slowly. When you can get three in easily, you’re generally good to go. You can also prep a guy with your tongue but that’s probably a bit too advanced for today’s lesson.”

Tom looks immensely relieved that we won’t be covering the subject of rimming today. Snapping the cap on the tube open, I coat my fingers in the cool gel. To make it easier for him to see what I’ll be doing, I shift on the towel, tilting my pelvis back and placing a foot onto the edge of the mattress, fully revealing the place I’m going to touch. I’ve showered and shaved all around there so I’m impeccably clean, smooth and ready for this.

“Let me educate you about anal sex, Tom. Not only will you be amazed at how elastic it is down here, but almost all the pleasurable sensations originate from the main opening. Once you go inside, there’s not much in the way of nerve-endings up there. They’re mostly right here.” I circle my middle finger around the aforementioned area, getting it moistened with the lube. I could tell Tom all about the prostate gland higher up under the bladder and how for some men it’s a hidden magic button but again, that’s a more advanced anatomy lesson which I’ll save for another day. For now I’m concentrating on the simple stuff so I spread the slippery fluid over my entire perineal area and then slip a fingertip in. I withdraw it slowly, making sure Tom’s got a clear view.

I do it again, deeper, going in up to the third knuckle, then pulling all the way out. Repeating the motion, I tauten my belly-muscles and release a long breath, unashamedly enjoying the feel of my middle digit gliding into my narrow passage and out with lubricated ease. I just love the feeling of being penetrated, of stretching open. I love the feeling of something pressing into me and then sliding out again, whether it’s thick or thin, whether it’s a vibrator or even a finger, especially when it belongs to someone else. Alas, I have to do it myself today but knowing that Tom is right there watching makes it much more intense than any other time I’ve masturbated in the past.

While I’m preparing myself, Tom is flicking at his lip piercing with drunkenly preoccupied attentiveness. Glancing up at me, he asks, “Aren’t you worried about scratching yourself? Or anyone else? You know...inside?”

“Not at all. I keep my fingernails short. Although, if you’re going to experiment with other people when you get out of here, I wouldn’t recommend doing this to anyone without asking them first,” I caution him. “A lot of guys don’t like it and if a dude jolts or flinches when you touch him down there, stop, all right? But if he moans, lifts his hips up or moves his thighs apart, that means he wants you to keep going. Some men find it hard to say what they want out loud – especially if they’re new at guy-on-guy encounters – so you have to learn to read body language and not do anything they find uncomfortable or threatening.”

Tom gives a nod, listening and learning, taking in everything that I’m showing and telling him, storing it away in that smart brain of his to use later like a good student. He may act dumb sometimes but he really isn’t. I love that Tom’s intelligent and not just a pretty face on top of a hot body.

“Once your partner is comfortable with one finger in them, then you can use two. Go slow,” I tutor my young apprentice, humming in appreciation when I feel my sensitised flesh further expanding as I squeeze my index finger in alongside the middle one, inserting both of them with unhurried pressure. “Mmm. Like this.”

Observing my fingering actions with absorbed cocoa-coloured eyes, Tom ventures, “Does that really feel all right to you?”

“Better than all right.” I grin wickedly at him. “If you’re that curious, you should let Bill do this to you. Who knows - you might just enjoy it.”

“Doubt it. He’s got such long nails.”

“I’m sure he’d be careful. As I’m sure you would be, Tom Kaulitz.” Running my tongue suggestively around my lips, I murmur, “Sometime soon, I want those guitar-playing fingers inside me. Just like your cock was the other day.”

He goes all shy and self-conscious at my frank words, ducking to hide his face behind a veil of dreads.

I smile at his cute bashfulness, continuing the show for him, beginning to finger-fuck myself in short jabbing motions and making small, low sounds of enjoyment. The hornier I get, the more I feel myself softening. Not my dick, as that’s sticking out like the handle of a Samurai sword, but the tissues down lower. It’s as though they’re dissolving, as though I’ve got a pot of melting honey in between my legs, instead of a reluctant band of muscle. But it’s not reluctant any more, completely relaxing and loosening for my probing fingers, allowing them in deeper. I get three in and then four.

Once I feel suitably stretched, I reach into my drawer again and produce a thick, six-inch black rubber dong which I ordered online and had delivered this morning. I haven’t used one of these in years but thought it would be a good teaching tool for Tom, to show him the right way to enter a guy without causing pain. It would have been nice showing him how to do it with his own flesh and blood tool but I already guessed that he wouldn’t be ready for that yet and I was right. If he can’t even lay his hands on my chest, he certainly wouldn’t be able to put his dick into me again. Not today, at least.

Covering the dildo in lubricant, I hold it up so Tom can see how I’ve coated the whole outside with clear gel. He draws back, actually seeming afraid of the object.

“Stop looking scared. I’m not gonna make you use it,” I remark, amused by his reaction. I put my other foot higher up on the bed, spreading myself as open as I can and granting him a better view. Bringing the rubber sex toy down, I touch the tip of it to my entrance.

Pausing, I tell Tom, “If you’re with a stranger, make sure you put a condom on before you lube up, all right? Even if they insist that they’re clean, you just don’t know where someone has been and it’s not worth the risk, especially if you could pass an infection or disease onto your twin. If you fuck somebody else, always, ALWAYS use a rubber. Got that?”

“Yeah. I do already, with girls anyway.”

“Good boy. Now, once you’ve prepared your partner, got your condom on and lubed up, then you can proceed to penetrate them. But be careful, okay? Ask if they’re ready first. Don’t just shove it in without warning or you could injure them. Despite how stretchy they are, the tissues inside there are actually extremely delicate and tear easily. ”

He nods, drawing his brows together in concentrated focus, trying to engrave everything I’m saying and demonstrating into his memory for future use. Despite his moderate level of drunkenness, I can tell he wants to learn about this. He wants to be a better lover, a more considerate one, and I’ll mentor him, show him how. It doesn’t matter how many women he’s slept with; when it comes to making love with a man, it’s a whole different thing altogether.

“You’ll feel resistance at first. That’s normal as the muscular rings there are naturally tight, even when you’ve done the right prep,” I say, pressing the rubber toy against myself to demonstrate. “But all of a sudden they’ll give.”

Once the helmet-like end of the fake cock pops in and is fully enclosed by the rim of my opening, I suck in a breath and stay motionless for a few seconds. That’s always the best part for me, when it first slips in and I stretch just that bit more. My brother knew this and would sometimes fuck me just using the head of his dick, popping it in and out, stimulating those tingling nerves until I couldn’t take it anymore and either begged him to stop tormenting me or came helplessly all over myself. One day, I’ll teach Tom how to do that but right now we’re focusing on the basics.

Using the dildo as an example, I instruct, “Now withdraw a bit and then push forward again, like this, going a little further each time. If you go in gradually, it won’t hurt. It gives your partner time to adjust and accept you.”

Expending steady pressure, I’ve almost gotten the penis-shaped toy fully inserted when my fingers, greasy with lube, slip off and the dildo falls out onto the towel underneath me. My hole clenches impatiently around empty air. I take a firmer hold of the black latex dick and slide it back in all the way up to the base with little effort, proving that despite my years of abstinence, my body remembers sex and still likes it.

“If you accidentally slip out, keep your composure and just start again,” I advise Tom. “Once you’re in, you can begin thrusting, carefully at first and then with more vigour depending on how your partner responds. Some will tell you to go harder or slower; some you’ll need to gauge by the way they breathe or the sounds they make. Some guys need to be touched at the same time and they can either do this themselves or you can reach around under them and stroke their cock for them. Some guys don’t need it. Some can climax just from being fucked alone.”

I intend to show Tom that I’m one of those lucky guys, spreading my legs wider and starting to fuck myself with the fat rubber prick, smoothly gliding it in and out with oiled pumps. Groaning lustfully, it’s easy to imagine that it’s Tom’s cock in my ass and I lift my passion-darkened eyes towards him, wanting to see his handsomely-pretty face when I come.

Witnessing a dude fucking himself for the first time in his life, Tom shifts awkwardly on the bed and his jeans pull across his lap, revealing the telltale bulge under there. I still my hands. Suddenly, my own desires don’t matter any more – Tom Kaulitz is uncomfortably aroused and needs my assistance.

Slipping the latex tool out, I leave it on the towel. Getting onto my knees, I go up to the mildly inebriated young man on my bed and touch his thigh. “I can help you with that,” I whisper invitingly, glancing at his tented groin. “Will you let me suck you? Please? That’s all I’ll do, I promise.”

He doesn’t say yes but he doesn’t say no either, so I assume he’s willing. Well, I’ll soon find out, won’t I? The Taser is within his reach and if he decides that his crotch is off-limits, he can certainly use the weapon to stun me and drop me to the floor.

“Take this off,” I coax first, tugging at his top. Realising that he’s still fully dressed while I’m butt-naked, he belatedly begins removing his clothing, pulling a ridiculously big T-shirt over his head, letting his dreads fall free over his broad shoulders and down his back. They sway with his every movement like loose ropes on a pirate ship. He drops the printed cotton article onto the carpet. Now it’s my turn to admire him and his upper body, Tom’s nipples smaller and paler than mine, his rippled belly tight and taut, his underwear peeping out of the top of his jeans in an endearingly ghetto fashion. He seems reluctant to remove the lower half of his outfit so I take the initiative and do it for him.

Tom closely watches my every move but doesn’t stop me. I get his belt undone and open the front of his jeans. Being as baggy as they are, they slip right down to his feet with one tug, leaving him in his boxer shorts, which have some designer label stitched into the waistband. I fit my palm around his cloth-covered cock.

“Oh, Tom,” I breathe in awe, squeezing his thickened width and feeling an answering jerk in my hand. “You’re so fucking hard under there, baby.”

A blush darkens his cheekbones even more than the alcohol did and he presses his lips together, seeming embarrassed by his body’s keenness. This whole situation seems to fluster him, us being together something he probably never thought would happen. Or that he would LET happen. But it is and he doesn’t make any move to halt what I’m doing. He must be just too drunk and horny to want me to stop.

Letting him keep his underwear on, I ignore his erection for the moment. It’s not going anywhere and I’ll get to it soon enough. For now, I focus on building the anticipation, gently pushing him back onto the bed, his dreads draping around his face as his head hits a pillow. The brown roots of his dip-dyed locks are fuzzy along his hairline, a few fine strands forming wispy sideburns in front of each ear. He looks up at me with a dizzy, drunken expression in those almond-shaped eyes of his but I can tell that he is still quite aware of what’s going on. I wouldn’t continue if he didn’t.

Leaning over him, I press my lips to the side of his throat, right over the carotid artery where I choked him on that first day. He lets me, the Taser staying right where I left it, his fingertips resting near the weapon, just in case. I can feel the force of his heart beating in his veins. Shifting on the bed, I kiss the other side of Tom’s neck and then that soft spot under his earlobe that I once painfully dug my thumb into, my fingers following the path of my mouth. The musk of his cologne scents his skin and hair.

“You smell amazing,” I murmur, brushing my lips along the front of his throat, over his Adam’s apple. I find the hollow of his collarbones and I kiss Tom there too, wordlessly apologising for all the places I’ve hurt him, whether it was necessary or not.

After placing kisses along the centre of his chest, I experimentally swirl the tip of my tongue around his right nipple, just to see how he reacts. It’s not unfavourably; Tom doesn’t shove me aside or grab the stun-gun. His breathing might have even stalled for a moment. I lick over it again, slower this time, and he tenses but I don’t know if it’s in pleasure or if he just finds it a bit alien. He might like it; he’s possibly just not used to the sensation yet. I continue kissing and mouthing my way down his superbly fit body, paying particular attention to his hipbones and tightly-packed abdominal muscles, making him forget about everything except the feel of my lips and my breath on his skin, my long hair sweeping over him like a satin sheet.

Now, he relaxes enough to finally start touching me, his hand distractedly smoothing up and down my bare back. Remembering the fancy initial ‘K’ tattooed at the base of my spine, he traces around its swirling lines. Even though it’s a personal dedication to my brother, I don’t mind if Tom touches it. He can touch me anywhere he wants.

And I can touch him too, my fingertips grazing enticingly along the soft brown fur-trail beneath his navel. With my other hand, I lightly rake the edges of my nails along his inner thigh, making him shiver. I finally arrive at his groin, reaching into his underwear to find what I’m looking for, my fingers encountering a wide, warm male solidness. It pulses with a heartbeat of its own, surrounded by a nest of springy brunette curls. Kneeling beside him, I draw his boxer shorts back, take his cock in my hand and bend it upwards, darting my tongue out and lapping at the salty-sweet crystal drops of arousal already seeping from the tip of his hardness. He jolts at the shock of flesh-to-flesh connection but does not push me away.

With hazy eyes, Tom watches me envelop him bit by bit, my open mouth sliding slowly along his stiff shaft and back up again, my cheeks hollowing with suction. I’m somewhat out of practice with deep-throating and I have to stop and cough a couple of times but eventually I can take him all, right down to the hilt, my nose in his dark brown pubes and my chin touching his softly furred balls. He doesn’t say anything as I suck him but his breathing gets harder and faster until he’s grabbing my hair and shoving in deep, his hot load spurting against the back of my throat.

As I’m swallowing his bitter offering, all I can think of is that Bill’s mouth was right where mine is now, only a fortnight or so ago. Bill’s bubble-gum pink lips were encircling his brother’s dick, his pierced tongue stroking the same solid, pulsing flesh as I am. Bill sucked Tom just like this, drank his twin’s essence just like this. I’m tasting exactly what Bill tasted. The knowledge of their incestuous act is so erotically exciting that I’m almost coming onto Tom’s leg, groaning around the twitching organ in my mouth.

He swears in a low, rough voice and shudders, the final shot of semen trickling over the back of my tongue. Letting Tom’s manhood slip out after one last, long suck, I swallow with a slightly raw throat, lick my wet lips and glance up at him. He’s panting, his chest rising and falling as he tries to replenish his oxygen levels.

“Sorry,” I say with an apologetic wince. “I’m normally better at it than that. I just haven’t done it for four years.”

“Really?” he breathes, gazing down on me in amazement. “Four years or not, that was still...something.”

Fixing his boxer shorts back in their original position, I grin at his awed reaction and intoxicated inability to find the right word. Even though it wasn’t me who came, I still feel immense gratification from Tom’s climax. I’m happy just to have given him pleasure and I’m sure my hard-on will die down eventually.

Tom notices my aroused state. Bit hard not to, since I’m naked and have nothing to hide behind. Although he’s already spent and could easily roll over to light a smoke, leaving me unsatisfied, he doesn’t do that. Instead, the German celebrity sits up and shoves me onto my back, surprising me, his palm flat against my chest. This time he doesn’t take his hand away. Resting on my elbows, I lift my head with half-lowered eyelids, just watching him explore my body, Tom seeming enthralled by the softness of my skin. I can feel the calluses on his fingertips but they’re not unpleasant, rather the opposite. It reminds me that he’s a musician, an artist, and the hands that normally caress his guitar are now caressing me.

He has one palm braced against the mattress near my head while the other hand roams down my torso and stomach, feeling each and every muscle I’ve got. When he gets down past my navel, he halts for a few moments.

“Hold on a sec,” he mumbles, grabbing the bottle of saké nearby and unscrewing the top. He takes a fortifying guzzle of it, wipes a dribble of the rice-wine off his chin and then keeps going. Deciding that it’s all or nothing, he boldly touches my cock, discovering its hardened contours, and he even lightly cups my balls. If he wanted to, he could crush them in one strong hand, leaving me rolling in agony but I don’t believe he’d do that. Not anymore. I believe our trust-building exercise worked. I’m trusting him not to crush my nuts and he’s trusting me not to snap his neck. It’s a nice arrangement.

What’s even nicer is the way his fingers wrap around my shaft and start tugging. He must find the contact too dry because he fetches the lubricant and squirts some into his palm before trying again. This time he seems more comfortable stroking me, studying what he’s doing to my slickly gleaming flesh with fascination.

He’s used lots of lube so there’s no friction, just luscious, effortless slipperiness as his fisted hand slides up and down. His rhythm is steady and pace precise, as I’d expect from someone with such innate musical talent.

Arching against Tom’s magnificent body, I lift my chin and search for his mouth, needing to feel it on mine – wet and open - wanting to taste him and have our tongues twining together. I am just able to graze my lips across the steel semi-circle of his piercing and the soft flesh it’s embedded in before he stubbornly turns his head aside, refusing to give me what I’m after. He knows I want to kiss him but is going to deny me just to prove a point, just because he can. The bastard.

I whine in disappointment and settle for hungrily licking the side of his arm, the one nearest me, tasting the salt-tang of his skin. This is one thing he lets me do, even allowing me to suck at his skin a little, Tom not even minding when I leave small red suction marks upon his bicep. After having all this time down here to bulk his body up and increase his fitness and strength, it certainly shows now, the veins in his arm bulging out as he works it in a piston-like motion, his chest muscles hard and gleaming with sweat. It’s so Goddamn sexy.

He starts pumping me harder and I drag my mouth away from his bicep with a moan, tossing my head back in carnal bliss. Every now and then his fist squeezes around me really tight, causing a burst of erotic sparks to race up my vertebrae into the back of my neck, the skin across my chest breaking out into chill-bumps.

“Yes, yes,” I start to gasp with every powerful pulling motion Tom makes on my cock, letting him know that I’m just about to explode. With a few more firm strokes of his hand I do, my thighs gripping together tightly, fluid gushing out onto my belly, splattering the muscled abs with warm, white wetness.

His face just above mine, Tom watches my entire climax from beginning to end. I’ve never had anyone look at me so closely and fixedly before. His eyes pierce me. It’s like he can see right through me, right down inside my soul at my painful scars, at all my flaws and failings, all my guilt, fears, wants, needs, and deepest, darkest secrets.

“Oh God. Oh my God, Tom...” I’m just about sobbing, feeling my tough outer layer busting apart right in front of him and not being able to prevent it.

It terrifies me that he might be able to see me for exactly who I am – sad, lonely, tortured, unfixably broken and craving the love I lost - but at the same time I WANT him to see me that way and so I don’t hold back for him. I want Tom to know me and I let him see it all - the pained, desperate expressions I make, all the sounds and whimpers I give, each bite of my lip, each quiver and jerk of my body, the tears in my eyes, everything. I let him see exactly how he’s making me feel, wanting him to know how deeply he’s affected me.

Afterward, when it’s all over and I’m lying there breathing raggedly, I assume he’ll climb off the bed and light a cigarette but he doesn’t. He stays there and keeps intensely staring down at me with those black-coffee coloured eyes, as if he’s never seen me properly before, as if he didn’t know I could be so open and vulnerable. I feel like an oyster with its shell pried apart.

“Are you all right?” His voice is unexpectedly soft.

“Yeah. It’s just...I haven’t been with anyone like this since...” I stop with an uneasy swallow, feeling unusually defenceless. “Since my brother...”

“I get it. It’s okay.” Showing me an extraordinary moment of tenderness, Tom leans forward and gently moves some hair out of my face. He must be able to sense how big a deal this experience is for me. After all, I haven’t been intimately touched by another’s hand since Keiichi died. Barring Bill’s forced blow job (which wasn’t intimate at all) I haven’t let anyone get this close to me in four years. Even the last time Tom and I had sex it wasn’t like this. That was about anger, vengeance and brutality. What this young man gave me just now was pure and unselfish and he has no idea how much his caring consideration means to me. He could have left me in the lurch and went back to his room after I got him off, leaving me unsatisfied but he didn’t. He stayed and valiantly overcame his fear to touch me, to give me pleasure too. I really didn’t expect that from him.

This whole encounter started off as a lesson for Tom but it’s turned out to be one for me, about letting go of the past and letting someone new in, about trusting another person with my body and my soul, about sharing myself with them. It’s made me realise that I don’t have to be alone for the rest of my life if I choose not to be.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Tom questions again. “You’re not gonna start crying on me, are you? Because that would be really gay.”

I smile wryly, thankful that he’s making a tasteless joke and trying to lighten my mood. “Watch it, or I’ll make YOU cry,” I threaten idly. “Help yourself to a smoke if you want one.”

“Cool. Thanks.” He gratefully rolls over towards the cigarette packet and lighter sitting beside the bed. Lighting up, he takes a deep drag, exhaling towards the roof as he reclines onto his back, one arm under his head. I don’t join him. I have no craving for nicotine at the moment, instead wiping the mess off my belly with a corner of the sheet.

Turning onto my side, I look at Tom for a long while as he smokes – I study his face, the noble arch of his brow, the fine, straight angle of his nose, the sensual curve of his lips, the strong slope of his chin and jaw. His complexion is like caramel. His mouth is the softest, darkest pink and he’s got the longest, lushest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a guy, except for Bill, of course. His body is all suntanned skin and firm, healthy muscle. It’s great to see Tom completely natural, just being the gorgeous young male he is without the bandannas, caps and oversized gangsta gear.

Sometimes I believe he hides under all that stuff, concealing how sensitive, thoughtful and romantic he actually is. Over these last few weeks, I’ve come to understand him quite well. He’s passionate, protective, honourable and respectable. He strongly stands up for what he believes in and doesn’t back down from a challenge. He thinks of others before himself and would do anything for those he cares about. On top of that he’s fun, witty, clever, charming, kind and sweet. He’s so much more than just a guitarist in a teen pop rock band.

Tom is somebody’s perfect man.

“What?” He finally can’t take it anymore, extinguishing the remnant of his cigarette and glancing at me with curious exasperation. “Why are you looking at me?”

“Because I think you’re incredible and awesome and beautiful,” I tell him softly, reaching out to brush the back of my fingers over his cheekbone.

He squirms a little. “You’re being nice again. Don’t. It’s weird.”

“Sorry. I forgot you don’t like that.” I take my hand back. Still swimming in the euphoric afterglow of orgasm, I ask, “So, how was today’s lesson? Fun, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“Even more fun than with a girl?”

“Maybe,” he returns, his eyes darting thoughtfully between mine. “In some ways, yeah.”

“It could be like this with you and Bill, too,” I suggest. “Or even better.”

“Better?” He sounds doubtful.

“If you think this was good, imagine doing it with your own twin. Someone who feels what you feel. It makes everything so much more intense and meaningful.”

He briefly contemplates this, thinking of doing what we just did, only with Bill underneath him instead of me. Then he frowns.

“I don’t want to talk about that. Can we not talk about it?”

“Okay. We don’t have to talk about that.” I soothe him, lightly stroking along the centre of his chest. “If you want me to blow you again or anything, let me know.”

Completely satisfied now, Tom shakes his head. “Thanks, but I’m fine. You really like doing that, huh?”

“Absolutely. I’d suck your delicious dick any time you wanted.”

He stretches out his muscular frame and puts his hands behind his head, smirking smugly. “Yeah. That’s what they all tell me.”

I give an appreciative chuckle. “I wish you could have met my brother. Keiichi would have totally loved you. He would have been asking if we could take you home and have a threesome.”

Tom glances at me in curiosity. “Did you get jealous? You know, having other people in your bed, touching your brother?”

“No,” I state. “I knew it was just a game, just for kicks. Even if he did get more attention than me sometimes, I knew Kei would never leave me for somebody else. Do you ever get jealous of the attention Bill gets?”

“Not really.” Tom lifts one casual shoulder. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I get plenty of attention myself.”

“Yeah, but what about if it was a guy showing him heaps of interest? You ever wanted to punch someone for looking at Bill the wrong way?”

The pierced guitarist starts to scowl, his brows pulling together in irritation. “I know what you’re doing, man. Stop it.”

“What am I doing?”

“Trying to make me admit that I want Bill.”

“Well, don’t you?”

He refuses to answer, stubbornly staring up at the roof. Typical. I thought that the special experience we just shared would have changed things between us and made him open up to me more. Guess I thought wrong.

“Get out, Tom.”

He glances at me in surprise. “What?”

“I said, get the fuck out.” I turn over to fetch my cigarettes. “If you’re going to be a bitch, you can just leave.”

He stares at me. “Are you kicking me out?”

“I already got what I wanted from you.” I shrug blithely, lighting up a smoke and not offering him another one. “No need for you to be here anymore.”

“You brought me here just so I’d get you off?” Incredulously leaning up on his elbows, he exclaims, “I’m not your personal whore!”

Plucking the cigarette out of my mouth, I arch a sceptical brow at him. “Like you’ve never kicked a girl out after sex before.”

“Not like this. I wouldn’t be so damn rude about it.” He pushes into a sitting position, thick eyebrows scowling darkly through his hanging dreadlocks. “You know, you can be a real royal prick sometimes.”

I shrug again, this time with a smirk. “I thought you didn’t want me to be nice. Make your mind up, Tommy. You’re worse than a woman.”

“Screw it. I don’t have to take this shit,” he mutters, getting off the bed and gathering his clothing, roughly pulling it back on. I watch him, lazily smoking and admiring every bit of tan flesh before it’s covered back up again.

Right before he’s about to leave, I crush my cigarette butt out in the ashtray and call to him.

“Hey.”

At the doorway, he swings around with a glare, still stuffing dreads back into his baseball cap. “What?”

“I had a really great time with you today,” I reveal in a soft tone. “Thank you, Tom. What you did...it means a lot to me and I won’t forget it.”

He gives me a baffled look, as if he can’t figure me out. His face and neck are still tinged with an orgasm-flush. He looks adorable.

“Uh...okay,” he eventually returns, sounding confused. “I’m going to...go now.”

He gestures to the locked door.

“Can you...?”

“Sure.” Still naked, I get up and unlock it for him. “Say hi to Billie-boy for me.”

“Whatever. And just for the record, asshole,” Tom adds in a highly annoyed tone. “Fuck you and your fucking lessons.”

With a final middle finger salute, Tom leaves.

Closing the door after him, I heave a deep sigh of contentment, stretching out on my bed and smiling up at the tiny camera I’ve hidden in my CD collection, giving it a wink. I don’t want to miss anything that happens between me and the boys so I’ve rigged up recording devices in my room now too. I’m glad I did because what just happened with Tom was unbelievable and I totally want to experience it again, only this time from a voyeur’s perspective. I haven’t watched myself having sex since Keiichi used to record us and I’m curious to see how I look with another guy who’s not my brother.

When Tom finds out about the secret cameras, he’s gonna be so much more pissed off with me than he is now but hot damn, it’s totally worth it.
- 30
- 31
- 32
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Captivation