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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
- 33
- 34
- 35
Chapter 34. Memory
Since his big brother gave him permission (of sorts) Bill calls me and says Tom had a change of heart, that he can now come back to my room.
“Are you sure?” I double-check over the phone, not wanting him to make any reckless decisions that he might regret later.
“Yes. Koji, I need to see you. Let me out right now.”
The firmness in Bill’s words has me bending to his demand like a bamboo leaf in the wind. “Okay, I’ll unlock your room. But shut the door properly when you leave or Tom might come running down the hall after you, trying to drag you back.”
“Don’t worry, he’s not stopping me this time,” Bill states in a steely tone, throwing a rebellious look at the still-closed bathroom door, as if daring his twin to emerge and try to take the phone away again. Tom, however, does not emerge. Even if he can hear what Bill is saying to me, the older teen doesn’t come out or attempt to thwart Bill’s chosen course of action in any way.
On a lit-up keyboard in my observation cubicle, I press a button. When he hears the lock unbolting itself, Bill hangs up the phone, smooths down his hair, checks his reflection in the glass front of the microwave and heads towards the exit. By the time he’s opened it, slipped out into the passageway and correctly relocked the heavy metal door, I have left the booth and its monitoring screens to go wait for him on my bed. To minimise any chances of awkwardly bumping into him in the corridor, I use the secondary entrance to my room: a sliding panel concealed at the rear of my closet that connects directly to the media booth. In actual fact, the media booth has been built inside an existing walk-in wardrobe for easy access any time of the night or day. As I only have a few shirts and pairs of pants with me, all that extra hanging clothing space was wasted until I turned it into a cosy little area to watch and record my twins.
From the outside hallway, I can hear Bill’s sneakers scuffing along the concreted flooring. He raps lightly on my door and I grant him access to my minimally-furnished chamber, waving the slim teenager in. He enters, and when I snick my lock into place and turn around, he’s already standing there looking at me expectantly with those bottomless pools of rich chocolate.
“What are you doing here, Bill?” I question him. “What is it you wish from me?”
“I wish…” he starts, pausing to think what to ask for first. “I wish for a kiss.”
Smiling ruefully, I respond, “I would love nothing more, believe me, but if I kissed you, I wouldn’t be able to stop until it was too late.”
“What if I don’t want you to stop?”
“No.” With a resolute shake of my head, I tell Bill, “I refuse to be your first.”
“But just before, in our room, you said we could play together,” he argues. “You said that in front of Tom.”
“There’s a big difference between playing around and losing your virginity, Bill, and it seems you want to do more than play. You should remember your first time as being with your soul mate, the one who truly loves you,” I claim, “not the emotionally-damaged criminal who kidnapped you and held you captive in a sub-basement cell. You don’t want the memory of that haunting you for the rest of your life.”
Not giving up, Bill insists, “Then give me another memory.”
“What other kind of memory are you talking about?”
“This kind.” Boldly pushing me back into the chair in the corner of my room, Bill makes me sit, straddles my lap with his long legs, takes my palm and places it on his chest. I can feel the warmth of his flesh through the thin material of his rock and roll band logo T-shirt.
“Touch me just this once, so I know how it feels to have your hands on my skin,” he urges in a desirous tone. “Give me something good to remember you by because I will not forget you, no matter what happens from here.”
“I don’t deserve to touch you, Bill,” I reply regretfully. “You need someone who makes you whole. I can’t do that. I’m only half a man.”
“No, you’re not. You’re ALL man to me and I want you just the way you are.” The needy nineteen year old grasps my hand and slides it under his shirt, on his flat belly. Whispering waveringly, he implores, “Please, Koji. Tom keeps rejecting me. Don’t you do that to me as well; I couldn’t bear it.”
It looks like he’s going to start crying if I don’t act and so, taking pity upon him, I stroke my thumb across Bill’s lower stomach with measured slowness, watching his face and his reaction. His tummy goes tight and he sucks in a quick breath, grasping my upper arms as if to hold himself steady.
The phone rings jarringly. We both stop and glance at it.
“Are you going to get that?” Bill asks nervously.
“Well, that’s up to you, kiddo. Do you want to speak to Tom or not? He’s probably only going to tell you to come back.”
Debating, Bill stares at the ringing phone. “No,” he answers eventually. “Tom made his choice.”
He turns back to face me with one pierced eyebrow raised determinedly, demonstrating that he’s made his own choice too. We gaze at each other with my hand resting motionless under his shirt until the repetitive electronic trilling ceases and the room goes quiet again.
“Bill,” I begin to say uncertainly. “Are you really sure this is what you-”
He stops me with a finger to my lips. He tilts his head. Staring fixedly at my mouth, he maps the outline of it with a butterfly-light fingertip, starting at the central bow of my upper lip, moving across to the right corner, down along the curving swell of my bottom lip and back up to the top again. His touch lingers and I can’t help giving the pads of his fingers a soft little kiss. Bill has touched my lips before but what he does next takes me by surprise. He pushes his whole index finger into my mouth. I let him, of course, and I’m thrilled by it but it’s still an astonishingly brazen move on his part.
Unconsciously catching his silver tongue-stud between the white edges of his teeth, the bisexual boy watches with aroused interest as I suck on his slender digit, much like he did when I was hand-feeding him waffles and making him lick off the sauce. He bit me then and made me bleed but he doesn’t have to fear that from me as I’m perfectly compliant and well-behaved, Bill beginning to move his finger in and out of my lips as I’m sucking, the blunt tip of his black-painted nail scraping harmlessly across the roof of my mouth. Increasing the suction, I hollow my cheeks just for the erotic visual effect on my angled facial bones and he awards me a pleased murmur.
I know exactly what he’s thinking. What we’re BOTH thinking. Would I suck his dick like this? The short answer is fucking yes. Yes, I would. If he wants me to do that for him today, I will. All he has to do is ask. Hell, he doesn’t even have to ask, just pushing my head down towards his crotch would be enough for me.
Nevertheless, he doesn’t do that. Bill just removes his finger, sliding it out of my mouth very slowly, and then puts it in his own mouth, rolling his studded tongue around it and tasting my saliva. Besides looking obscenely hot, it’s almost like he’s kissing me, or the next best thing. Licking his lips afterward, the insanely seductive teenager smirks at me with that damn arched brow of his and I realise I’m now staring infatuatedly at him.
After seeing that sexy demonstration, I’m nearly rethinking my stance on taking his virginity.
“Well,” he says next in a challenging manner. “Are you gonna give me that memory now or what?”
If I was a true gentleman, I’d send him back to Tom untouched but on the flip side, I owe Bill this. I owe him at least one pleasant sexual experience, after everything he’s suffered through lately. He deserves some pleasure after all the pain. Proving that I’m not going to reject him like his brother has, I slide my open palm from Bill’s belly, up over his ribs and the smooth centre of his chest, his heart thudding at the contact. I won’t steal his innocence because I’d never forgive myself if I did, but touching him this way is something I can do without causing any lasting harm. Bill shivers and closes his eyes, tipping his head back and encouraging me to continue, his lips parted a fraction. It seems as though he’s offering me his throat in submission. For all of his boldness, I can’t forget how young Bill actually is and how (apart from his twin) I am the first man in the entire world to handle him so intimately and I must ensure my actions reflect his pure state of virtue.
Lifting my chin, I place tiny kisses onto the pale column of his neck with reverent softness, threading the fingers of my free hand into the silky jet-black hair growing at his nape. Cradling the base of Bill’s skull, I graze my mouth over the bump of his Adam’s apple, feeling it bob as he swallows anticipatorily. Reaching further under his T-shirt, I find an erect nipple and brush my fingertips across it. He jolts a little. Kissing sensually up the swanlike curve of his throat, I trace around the pebbled nub of flesh on the side of his chest, my fingers lightly toying with it and turning it even harder. Shivering again, Bill moans and I can feel it resonate beneath my lips. His skin is warm and it’s only getting warmer. As his body temperature rises, so does his scent, which is sweet like candy but distinctly masculine at the same time.
“Mmmm,” I sigh, humming against his neck. “You smell so good, Bill.”
He must think I’m being too gentle and careful with him because the kid suddenly growls and impatiently pulls my hand down out of his shirt, shoving it against the front of his jeans.
I draw back to look questioningly at him, his dark-cocoa eyes hungrily meeting my honey-coloured ones. He’s not scared; he wants this. Even if we don’t go all the way today, he will still take whatever I’m willing to give him and so I let my fingers trail down the seam of his zipper. It runs along the hardened length of his cock, and as his legs are spread over my lap, the line of heavy-duty stitching cuts into him a bit. Slipping my palms under Bill’s ass, I lift his light weight and shift him back slightly so he’ll be a little more comfortable. Keeping one hand on his taut butt-cheek, I mould my other hand around the contour of his cock, exploring and squeezing the solid shape beneath the denim as far as the thick fabric will allow.
Besides something familiarly hard and cylindrical-shaped, I can’t feel anything else beneath the layers of sewn blue cotton and fastened metal teeth – no heated flesh, throbbing veins or sticky fluids - but Bill can definitely feel me pressing against his swollen sex organ. Gasping, he leans against me and begins to rock into my touch, his eyelashes fluttering shut.
“Do you like that, baby?” I enquire huskily.
“Yeah,” he replies, moaning. Clutching my shoulders, he nestles his face into the side of my neck, his breath rushing out in short, shallow pants, each gust ruffling my hair. I increase the pressure of my palm, massaging his hidden erection in small, firm circles. His fingers move up and burrow into my ponytail, clenching and holding on as he’s rocking into my hand, rutting himself closer and closer to orgasm. Judging by the quickness of his breathing and the tight tension in his spine and limbs, he is very nearly there. The heat coming from his body is incredible. I was going to reach into his jeans to finish him off but it seems I don’t need to.
“Come on, Bill,” I persuade, as I’m rhythmically rubbing his denim-covered groin. “Come for me, my beautiful sweetheart.”
Bill’s open mouth is on my neck, hot and moist. “Oh Gott,” he is panting desperately in German. “Oh mein Gott… Ja…oh ja, ohh…”
His hips jerk against me as he finally comes, a slow warmth starting to soak through the crotch of his jeans.
“Good boy,” I can’t help murmuring in pride. “That’s my good boy.”
He makes a whimpering noise, shuddering a few more times. Smoothing a hand up and down his bare back, inside his T-shirt, I allow my overstimulated captive a minute or two to recover, his racing pulse and breaths slowing down. Even though it wasn’t me that came, I still feel oddly satisfied.
Stroking the hair back from Bill’s sweaty forehead, I say softly, “I hope that was the kind of memory you wanted.”
“It is. Thank you, Koji,” he whispers in gratitude, wrapping his arms around my neck. “I love you so much…”
For a moment, I think I’m imagining things. I can’t possibly have heard what I thought I heard.
“What did you just say?” I ask Bill in a cautious tone.
“I said I love you,” he repeats shyly, drawing back to glance at me. “Is that okay?”
Trying not to trample all over his delicate emotions, I gently slide him from my lap and help him stand up. “Go back to Tom,” I advise kindly. “He’s the one you really love.”
“But I don’t want him anymore.” Tangling his fingers in the front of my shirt, Bill gazes at me with big, love-struck adoring eyes. “It’s you, Koji. I want to be with YOU.”
“No, you don’t,” I reply quietly, putting a hand firmly on his shoulder, keeping him where he stands so he doesn’t leap into my arms again. “You just think you do. What you’re feeling - it’s like a sickness and it’s solely because of me kidnapping you. Trust me, you won’t feel this way about me when you’re home. In fact, you’ll probably despise me then. And so you should. I’ve been nothing but a monster to you.”
“No, you haven’t,” he starts to protest but I interrupt him before he goes any further or spouts any more sappy sentiments.
“Shut up, you stupid boy!” My voice is suddenly icy. “You don’t know anything about love. You’re just a child with foolish dreams that are never going to come true. You’re right - Tom doesn’t want you. Well, I don’t want you either. You’ve been an annoying, whining, spoilt little bitch and I wish I’d never abducted you!”
I shove him away roughly and unlock my door. “Now, get out of my room before that sickly-sweet perfume you’re wearing makes me puke.”
Blinking in utter shock, Bill stares at me for a few moments, as if I’m a total stranger.
“Get the fuck out!” I yell at him.
Turning around, he scurries away in fright. Kicking my door shut, I drop heavily into my chair, swearing viciously to myself.
It’s over.
It’s all over and all my efforts have been for nothing. Even though Bill and Tom haven’t done what I originally wanted them to, I have to set them free now. I have rules and protocols that I must follow and I can’t let any emotional attachment towards these two boys get in the way of that or cloud my greater mission. I have been so caught up in my ridiculous crushes that I’ve forgotten why I took these teenagers in the first place. What I do is like a catch and release program for wildlife. My goal is to help twins get together, then let them go. Not to make them become obsessed with me and split them apart. Bill thinks he’s in love with me now. With everything I’ve done over these last few weeks, I have completely fucked him up. Tom too. By being too nice and getting too close to them, I have failed the Kaulitz brothers but I won’t make the same mistakes next time. Next time, I’m not going to be nice at all.
In fact, the whole Mr Nice Guy act has already ended. I bet Bill is gonna go cry in the bathroom now, hurt by my harsh words.
Good. Let him cry. Let him hate me.
It’s better for everyone that way.
………

I go back to the media booth to complete what is probably the final recording I’m going to make of the twins. On one of the cameras I discover Bill in the corridor outside his room, looking around fretfully, and I realise that I haven’t unlocked the door for him yet. When I do, Bill yanks it open and rushes straight into the shower. From his spot on the couch Tom watches him quickly go past, the dreadlocked guitarist scowling after Bill’s disappearing figure, assuming that his newly-deflowered twin is still pissed off and trying to avoid him.
Tom is pissed off too but when he sees how upset his little brother is upon his exit from the bathroom - Bill’s pretty face ashen and shell-shocked beneath his towel-dried black hair - Tom is instantly alarmed, getting up and crossing over to his silent sibling.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” The older musician fires fast questions of concern at Bill as the second boy sinks unsteadily onto the bed, wearing nothing but a bathrobe tied at the waist. “What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?”
The tall brunette stares at the wall, his eyes empty. He doesn’t answer. His hands are trembling in his lap.
“Bill, tell me what he did!” Tom starts to get angry again, but not at Bill. At me. “If that bastard hurt you, I will rip his fucking balls off!”
Bill’s vacant expression crumples and he flings himself around, sobbing brokenly into a pillow.
The crying immediately affects Tom, the bigger teen looking pained and anxious. Sitting on the mattress next to his brother, Tom strokes soothingly over Bill’s damp, tangled mane, brushing it back out of the slimmer boy’s face. Speaking softer, he asks carefully, “Did Koji force himself on you? Did he make you do something you didn’t want to, sexually?”
Shaking his head, Bill manages to say between sobs, “We didn’t…even…have sex.”
At this news, Tom appears relieved, but still worried. “Then what happened? Tell me. Please.”
Tearfully, Bill lifts his head up and wails, “He was mean to me, Tomi!”
“What did he do?”
“It’s not what he d-did,” the younger twin hiccups. “It’s what he…he said.”
A hand resting on Bill’s back, Tom patiently enquires, “What did he say?”
“I can’t…I-I just can’t…” Throwing his face back into the pillow, Bill breaks down with a fresh wave of wailing.
Wondering what on Earth I could have said to make Bill cry so much, Tom frowns and tries to comfort his bawling brother.
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Captivation