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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Yesterday, Georg said he’ll be waiting for Tom and he is. After work, he waits. They didn’t really get a chance to talk while the cameras were rolling and at lunchtime Tom disappeared so Georg hardly even saw the kid all day, much to his disappointment. He got the distinct impression that Tom was avoiding him and it bothered him more than he wanted it to. But there is always a chance, no matter how slim, that unpredictable Tom will come around after all. So, Georg has a shower, has dinner, watches a bit of television and waits. Like he deduced the night before, whether he sees Tom alone again is purely up to the boy himself so he doesn’t even think about going over to his co-star’s trailer. He just waits. He waits for hours, even though his hope that Tom will come to him fades with each passing minute. Georg waits that long that he falls asleep in front of the TV, sitting up in his bed.

A repeated clicking noise on the window beside him wakes him up around midnight. Puzzled, he pulls the curtain across, looks down and sees Tom standing there in the moonlight, wearing blue jeans, a cap, his silver wallet-chain and a long-sleeved top splashed with colourful printed graffiti. His hand is full of small rocks which he has apparently been throwing at the glass to rouse Georg. And it worked, although Georg doesn’t know why he didn’t just knock, like a normal person. Ah, because Tom is anything but normal. And that’s a good thing. Georg slides the window open and sticks his head out, covering a yawn.

   “Shit. Were you asleep?” Tom asks, dropping the remaining pebbles and looking terribly anxious.

   “I was. It’s after 12am, in case you hadn’t realised,” Georg drawls. Despite his sardonic tone, he isn’t pissed about getting woken up. Not if it’s Tom doing the waking.

   “Shit,” Tom utters again, adjusting his cap in vexation. “Sorry, man. I’ll get outta here.”

   “Wait. Wait, wait. Come back,” Georg laughingly calls as Tom starts to skulk away into the night. “I’m not mad. In fact, I’m glad you woke me; I was having a weird dream. You were in it and I think you had a big, bushy Jesus beard. And tattoos on your fingers. I was like, playing bass guitar in your band and there was this fat little dog following us around. Like a bulldog, or something.” He furrows his brow trying to remember.

Tom hesitates in mid-step, and then turns around and walks back. He stands beneath Georg’s window; hands shoved into his jeans pockets. “A Jesus beard, huh?”

Georg shakes his head, unable to recall anything else. “It was very strange.”

   “So, you’re not mad?”

“Of course not.” Georg smiles at Tom. “Now, unless you’re gonna serenade me at my window with Spanish love songs, I suggest you go around to my door and I’ll let you in. That is, if you want to come in.” Georg cocks a questioning brow at his midnight visitor. Tom nods.

   “Yeah. I do.”

Tom heads around to the other side of the trailer so Georg closes the window and goes to his door. As the blond climbs up the steps, Georg quips, “Y’know, I’m kinda disappointed. I would have liked to be serenaded.”

Tom gives him a look. “Like I can sing in Spanish.”

   “But you can sing,” Georg tells him, locking the door, mostly for safety reasons. All right, mostly for stopping-Tom-escaping reasons. “I’ve heard you. You’re pretty good, you know.”

Georg has caught Tom singing every now and then, when he’s in a particularly cheerful mood or when he thinks nobody is listening. The kid usually sings lines from his favourite rock/punk/alternative tunes, or ones from his own original songs, and Georg loves hearing them. Tom has this low, husky quality to his voice that sends slight shudders along Georg’s spine.

At the praise, Tom ducks his head and shrugs. “I’m passable,” he says modestly, plonking himself down on the couch after Georg’s inviting gesture. “Although Simon Cowell didn’t seem to think so.”

Georg blinks as he sits next to Tom. “Simon Cowell? Like, American Idol?”

“Yeah. I auditioned for the show one time with my guitar,” Tom explains. “My buddies dared me to. He cut me off mid-song and said, ‘Go back to jamming in your basement where nobody can hear you.’ Asshole.”

Making a dismissive motion, Georg says, “Don’t listen to him. That douchebag wouldn’t know talent if it came up and bit him on the balls.”

“Still, I’m just the guitarist and backup singer in my band,” Tom defers. “Bill will always be the lead vocalist. She loves being the centre of attention, wearing crazy costumes and stuff.”

“She’s your lead singer?” Georg sounds surprised.

“Yeah. Didn’t I tell you that already?”

“You haven’t told me much about her at all, actually.”

At Georg’s bluntness, Tom looks uncomfortable. “Oh. Well, I guess I wasn’t sure that you’d want to hear it.”

“She’s your girlfriend, Tom. Not talking about her doesn’t make her go away. Not that I want her to go away,” Georg hastily adds. “I mean, I know she’s in your life and was there long before we ever met. I accept that. If you want to speak about her, don’t silence yourself on my behalf.”

Tom nervously flicks his lip-ring. “You’re not angry at me?”

“For what?”

“For not being single?”

Georg sighs. “Tom, I knew what I was getting into when I first kissed you. I knew it was a risk.” The older male smiles slightly. “But to me, it was worth it.”

Rather than agree and say it was worth it to him as well, Tom says instead, “I’m glad you’re not angry. I don’t want you to hate me, G.”

Georg frowns. “Why would I ever hate you?”

“Because I came here to tell you it’s over.” Tom gazes worriedly at his confused co-star. “I mean, what we did yesterday was good, I’ll admit that but we both know we shouldn’t have done it. You know we gotta stop. You know that, right?”

Slowly, Georg nods, feeling sorry for Bill, the poor girl having no idea what’s been happening behind her back. “I know. And you’re right.”

“We really can’t do it anymore,” Tom repeats, sounding as though he’s trying to convince himself more than Georg. “It would be wrong to keep going.”

   “Absolutely,” the brunette man returns in reluctant agreement. “We’re stopping right now.”

Leaning back on the couch, Tom breathes out a heavy sigh. “Okay. So, it’s done.”

“It probably wouldn’t have lasted anyway,” Georg offers, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clasped hands, staring gloomily down at the carpet between his feet. “Affairs in the workplace usually never do. They tend to end badly for everybody involved so it’s better to call it quits now.”

Tom answers dully. “Yeah. Much better.”

Georg briefly looks to his co-star, knowing they’ll be working together for weeks to come yet. “But we’re still gonna be friends, right?”

“Sure. Friends.”

“Great.”

After that depressing exchange, the two acting partners clam up and don’t say anything. They sit glumly on the couch, Georg dejected over being dumped and Tom probably hugely relieved. Now that their short-lived affair is over, Georg waits for Tom to leave his trailer but strangely, the boy doesn’t. The older male sneaks a perplexed glance at Tom and the teen glances back sideways. Their eyes accidentally meet and both actors quickly look aside. Then they peek at each other again through their lashes and the glance turns into a gaze. That gaze turns into a stare.

Exactly ten seconds later, they pounce. Like deliriously excitable kids unwrapping presents on Christmas morning, the two co-workers rip each other’s clothing off, frantically kissing in between each layer removed. Shirts, socks, jeans and underwear go flying all over the trailer. Tom’s hat whizzes through the air like a Frisbee. Georg none-too-politely pushes a very naked Tom onto the couch where he lands flat on his back with a small cry of protest at the ungentle treatment. The younger male’s cock is full and lying heavy on his lower abdomen, surrounded by light brown curls. His hard little nipples are dark pink against his pale skin and his long blond hair and multiple piercings all give him that wild-child edge that Georg loves so much. Tom is looking up at him, panting, lips puffy from kissing and his eyes smoky with raw desire. Oh, those dark, dark eyes. So hungry and deep Georg feels he could get sucked into them like a whirlpool and never, ever resurface.

   “Damn you, kid,” Georg declares gruffly, cupping Tom’s beautiful face in his hands. “No matter what you say, I can’t stop wanting you.”

    “Shut up,” Tom says, urgently pulling an equally-as-naked Georg down to lie half-across him. Nearly mindless with animal lust, the boy grabs one of Georg’s hands and shoves it between his legs.

   “God,” Georg groans, circling his fingers around Tom’s rock-solid dick. “You turn me on so much.”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?” Tom growls, simultaneously grasping Georg’s prick and starting to tug on it. Georg can’t speak anymore; this is the first time Tom has touched his dick, or any dick according to him, and the boy isn’t being shy about it, either. Tangling tongues, the two actors kiss deeply and thirstily as they’re jacking each other off. They jack each other the way they would jack themselves, fast and a little bit rough. They do this same wrist-action over and over, still tongue-fucking each other’s mouths until Tom twists his head aside, cutting off the kiss.

   “Coming,” he gasps, lifting his ass off the couch, his entire body going rigid, the blond teen forgetting to keep up his side of the mutual masturbation as he attains his sexual peak. Georg keeps going, however, and watches enthralled as the opaque fluid surges from the tip of Tom’s cock and spatters onto the boy’s taut belly, his pretty face frozen in an expression of pained ecstasy.

Climax over, Tom lets his facial muscles relax and his body sink back onto the cushions again. He gazes at Georg with half-closed eyelids, chewing his lip-ring, as if he’s contemplating something. Then he blurts out, “Come on me. On my chest.”

Georg widens his eyes. “You want that?”

   “Yeah,” Tom replies, sounding intrigued. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like.”

“Okay. Are you gonna finish me off or…?” Georg’s uncompleted question earns a short head-shake from Tom.

“You do it. I wanna watch.”

   “All right. You’re the boss.” Shrugging, Georg climbs over Tom’s reclined figure and straddles him, knees to either side of the blond actor’s ribs. Georg takes his own ready-to-explode dick in his hand and jerks off while Tom observes him closely with those dark, almond-shaped eyes. Tom’s never seen another dude getting himself off in person. It’s fascinating, not to mention fucking hot. As for Georg, this is new to him too and having the boy of his dreams watch him do such a normally private act is extraordinarily thrilling. It isn’t long before he makes low groaning noises and his semen is erupting in wonderful, spine-tingly spurts, the thick milky ropes falling onto Tom’s chest and collarbones. A lone droplet even goes so far as to hit Tom on the chin and he blinks.

   “Hey!” he exclaims.

Light-headed with post-orgasm euphoria, Georg chuckles at him. “Well, you asked for it.”

   “I didn’t want it on my face, though,” Tom retorts. “I might be bi, but I’m not into that bukkake shit.”

“Bukkake?”

“It’s a porn thing, where multiple guys jizz all over the face of some poor chick or dude. Some people get off on it but I find it a bit too demeaning, not to mention gross.”

   “My apologies,” Georg says with an unrepentant grin and gropes on the carpet for his own shirt. He uses the item of clothing to mop up the wayward spot of cum and presses a kiss on Tom’s chin to make up for the unintentional bedaubing. After taking a few seconds to admire the work of art that is his sperm on Tom’s perfect vanilla skin, Georg lifts off Tom so he can clean it up, too much of a neat freak to let the stuff dry on his body and go all crusty and flaky. After they are both clean, Georg fetches cigarettes for them both and then curls up next to his teenaged lover on the couch, slipping his leg in the middle of Tom’s, his arm draped over Tom’s stomach. Threading their fingers together, Tom snuggles into Georg. They are the very picture of post-coital satisfaction.

The acting partners smoke not one but two cigarettes each while they both come down from their orgasmic highs. They don’t talk and they don’t need to. They just lie there in comfortable silence, soaking in each other’s presence and the feel of warm skin on skin.

By the time the afterglow has finally worn off, Tom is severely regretting what he’s done. He came here tonight to permanently end this thing with Georg and instead, started it all up again. Tom ought to have more willpower and be able to resist the attraction between them but it seems he’s as easy as a school girl on her prom night. He may as well change his name to Georg’s Little Bitch.

   “I gotta go,” he grunts, pulling away from Georg and starting to get dressed. “Unlock the damn door. I’m not staying all fucking night.”

“I never asked you to,” Georg points out, yanking on his pants and slotting back the deadbolt on the trailer door. “In fact, I never even asked you to come over here tonight.”

Ignoring that remark, Tom stuffs on his sneakers and grabs his hat. He turns to the brunette male before making his exit.

“Georg?”

Holding his hand up in a halting motion, Georg sighs long-sufferingly. “Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re gonna say: ‘We can’t do this again. This was a mistake, blah blah blah.’ I got it. You don’t need to tell me a thousand times.”

Tom nods curtly. “Well, good. ‘Cause I mean it. That’s the last and final time we ever do this.”

At Georg’s heard-it-all-before rolling-eyes motion, Tom jabs him in the centre of the chest with his forefinger, looking irritated. “We CANNOT do this again, Listing. You understand me?”

   “Ow! Hey, I heard you the first time,” Georg complains at the bruising poke. “And the second. And the third.”

Tom glowers at him and yanks the door open. As the blond boy steps down from the trailer onto the ground below, Georg calls Tom’s name. Tom impatiently looks up, his eyes like scalding black coffee.

   “What?” he snaps.

   “Can we not do this again tomorrow night?” Georg quips with a barely contained smirk. Tom just gives him the finger and stomps off. Instead of getting upset by Tom’s rude non-answer, Georg smiles and locks his door.

Oh yeah. They’ll be not doing it again.

And soon.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Improvisation