Manual Solution De John Hull 6 Ed

777 - Your blood in my veins - P18 - BillxTom - (7 / 7)

sin Acedia ° inertia
Author: unspoiled
characters: Bill, Tom
Rating: P12 (Slash)
Warnings / Genre: tiny one Twincest - more could not rouse myself
Summary: Bill is tired.
Disclaimer: Bill and Tom are still sleeping. I assure that they continue to have with me are good and have as many plastic dolls, as they want. for a certain singer, but the pseudonym of a Swiss aphorist (* 1932)
Comment: Written for 7_suenden .



Today
was the water level of reality unbearable


Bill knows all the questions by heart and the moderator all the answers. It is not just that getting the same hackneyed phrases will be chewed through like old chewing gum that has long since lost its flavor. No, this is called off before. If we give an interview for a handful of journalists koffeinzittriger, It is not a problem when one of David's Anstandswauwaus strangling a question, or the allusions to this and forbids that direction, but before the TV cameras in live shows would be a bit embarrassing so you go first as the sound check through everything and tried after the , beautiful and interesting communicator recite his Textlein.

fact, we deserted the moderator as well as to us and actually we all want to go home and wipe us the painful and itchy Foundation grin off his face. Already with the noisy need to scratch on the nose, sat in front of an audience of millions? And it would have failed because the make-up suffered? Because all could have seen what it has with the pure Kaulitzhaut about? No? Estimates you're happy.

safety makes us the circus fun. He certainly gives us something.
Anything.
I believe.

And if I'm sitting there and my arm behind the back to the Bills put back because it always gets Dunja eyes light up and so can at least hide a part of me behind him, it happens sometimes that I wonder how many play by the girls drooling in front of the televisions and computer monitors are worried about how it feels when young, but the grown man forever fifteen-year break to have clown.

Such considerations are shit. They end each time with the realization that this is not about me but about the product that I represent to the others and to sell, and that automatically leads to a furry feeling in the mouth and annoying throbbing in the temples.

"I'm tired," said Bill, as we hang backstage later in the couches like damp towels that you have with violence and wrung out to dry over the tub edge. Cold and clammy, so what does not touch you. And then you put in your body but - as you will not touch him?

I mumble in agreement and close my eyes. We are ready to Wegzuficken lethargy, and alcohol is not a good idea if it is even too lazy to walk to the toilet bowl. We are staring in the right mood for hours woodchip, but the damn hotels are of course only slick walls in relaxing, elegant pastel shades and interior design cleverly placed piece.

The only one who does not look as if he had just emerged from a coffin, is David. He scurries around like a squirrel on speed and goes all with his good humor on the bag until sometime Gustav compassion, is angry at him and summon the energy to moan him. David has no sympathy for this course. The sky is blue, the grass is green, we are beautiful, life is a request show. If my arms and legs were not so hard, I would give him a bouquet of violets for his paradise.

"What we do today?" I ask the ceiling.

"lying around."

And we really do. Bill eventually zaps from one TV channel and a horse-faced presenter tells us that the bus shelter, where we used to wait every morning for the criminal transportation, was destroyed by rampaging youths and now to be auctioned. "Whoever buys this is perverse," Bill yawns and eyed my lame attempts to scratch his crotch. to open his belt is too much work. Actually I also do not fancy him seriously get down to one. My hands are claimed by the guitar enough and then you would have him behind and make more clean, because he certainly will not get up and look for handkerchiefs.

°

We give an autograph session in Michigan, and creep time. A nervous girl after another pushes me cards, posters and tits out for signing, my hand hurts after ten minutes.

We have torn up the ass for the album Room 483. We play concerts, as do the musicians be it. What we have done, that we owe these hordes, ages us to put in a shopping center and us, "Heather" and "Liz" to have spell out with "z"? Liz looks at least still appealing, but the Katy behind her is a true natural disaster. If we can have the pesky daily make-up artists go through our program - and as the guys - then the fans might still be at least as polite and take off ten pounds and become familiar with Clearasil, before they come to us under the eyes.

When I whisper in his ear the Bill, he rolls his eyes and whispered: "You would think that all women have to walk around naked." Thank you, little brother, now I feel really bad.

get the Megan Herzchenaugen before me when she sees how close my lips Bills ear. I quickly scribble my name on her arm and nodded to the next. On days like this I wish we had more male fans. Guys who have respect in front of what we do, and stare at me as if to devour me. But no, I'm doomed technical audience to let me move out of a thousand eyes. We are sitting on a platter, I and Bill and the Gs, and it's missing is that someone comes and we put parsley in your ears and an apple in his mouth. The apple, we could auction the highest bidder after, especially if he never kissed her lips between Bills was.

"Tired," sighs the innocence of angels through clenched teeth, so that only I hear it.

"Cut", I hiss back.

He rolls his eyes again. What, you Hirni?

"owe me something," I wave and whisper Saki to me. One only has to press the right buttons, the right tone and then a little pray that Saki his messenger job somewhat seriously, and David has a merciful day, et voila, we can go after only one hour. No, we must urgently away late, time pressure, we feel so sorry that some of you sweet nothing traveled from another state, but hey, we're stars, we have much to do. Sorry, girls, sorry.

"How did you do that?" Asks Bill, as he lets himself down on the seat in the bus lounge. Well, not only is he a master of freehand manipulation.

"I do not say," I answer and stab him in the side so that it slips over and make room for me.

"There are quite a few got an autograph," he murmured, slipping leaning his head on my shoulder and yawns.

"bad conscience?"

He snorted and mumbled "I'm tired," as if it were an apology.

°

Bill is on his bed with closed eyes, while I sit on the edge and his removal. I can not do as good as him. There are always back black streaks, no matter how often I drink a new, clean cotton pad and gently go over it so that the lids. Eventually I give it up and take him instead, from the jewelry. He helps with only sporadically when I told him T-shirt, shoes, jeans and socks take off. I do not cover it, this is much too warm and stuffy. I put out the light and open the window before I give him a "sleep well" prompter and shuffle into my room.

My children, with tape marks on the walls, where once have hung posters, and a Kugelschreiberkritzelei on the light switch. The day after tomorrow we will go right after breakfast back to Hamburg and officially start working on the third album. Until then, family is on the agenda. Mama, Gordon, grandma, Scotty, Kasimir. It

clock is half past two in the morning when I go to bed. We arrived late and I really wanted a shower yet, but Bill said he was too tired to make itself ready for Heia. I am insulted his bed a bit, that it is too small to lie down next to him can, and contented myself with I need it by the listen to breathe wall. Of course, not really, of course, only in my imagination, but if I screw up my eyes, I can even imagine her silhouette through the wall. He is as stretched out on his back, his left arm like a roof over their head.


"Tired," Bill grumbles when he is at noon at the kitchen table. He has his hair tied in a sloppy ponytail, as always when they are greasy and he has no desire to wash them. Bock, to style himself, he obviously had not. He wears a black training pants and an old baggy shirt term in a nondescript gray mouse with a small hole in the shoulder.

"Good morning," Mama shines and makes him back his old favorite cup of steaming coffee. "Gordon has brought croissants."

"No Hunger", mumbles Bill and bent over the cup, as if they take away.

Mama not be put off. It has decided that today is a wonderful day, no matter how bad-tempered man her son number 2 may be.

"I would like to have one," I say, although I have squashed only an hour before two and we will eat in another hour with our grandmother for lunch. Mama shines even wider the horn still taste of glue.


"Tired," answers Bill, when Grandma asks him later how he was doing.

I tell them about the U.S., from our private plane, and the American fans. Bill is silent and sludgy around with his vegetables. Grandma makes a worried face, Mom ignores him and Gordon tells her for the sake of nothing. I'm thinking a long time whether I will miss him under the table a kick in the shins, and when I finally to the resolution, a soft caress it.

°

He sits down beside me at the little table and pushes the tray with the fine sparkling mineral water and glasses to the side of the hotel. We are 24, we are world famous, we have seen everything.

"Tired?" I asked softly as he leans back and yawned absently out the window looks.

He nods. "Do not you?"

break.

"Yes."

break.

"Good."

silence.

crawl outside high shadow of the skyscrapers. Up here on the eighth floor is still sunlight, but not for long. We have produced five albums and released last month, a best-of-drive. Much of the fans that we have until an hour later in the lobby still signing autographs, has cried for the first day in kindergarten when we started by are.

Those who have long supported study, now. Some of them have checked off as youthful indiscretion, they smile and they are ashamed and blush it neat, if a potential Lebensabschittsgefährte they respond to it. Others hear us now and then, just as they look at the photos from the final drive and think that they have in school but had a really cool time. But they all
study - business administration or law or medicine. Biology, Mathematics. French and chemistry teacher, anything. Very few do what they wanted to become as children: an astronaut or a veterinarian or a pop star. You want to earn enough money to to eventually afford a house may leave once a year and riding lessons and the membership fee for the football club for the children. This requires a reasonable job with prospects, the one just bores ideally not too much.
I hope they all make it.

The crowds in the halls, sit still as together as the first concert: female 90%, too old for dolls, too young for sex, swollen from crying and hysterical. A couple of parents, security personnel and occasionally fans in an age in which one can not be sure if you cry, laugh or throw up to. Everywhere are lovingly home-made posters about the sweaty heads and kept thousands of grotesque smear streaks of eyeliner tattoo. One might think that the time had stood still for us.

Also on stage, nothing has changed. Not really. Bill is once in a erblondet, but only briefly. It was his idea in the wrong track until he has a frightening enthusiasm to then in long, tough battle against the hand-wringing ends objections Nathan and David - in fact of all - to defend and eventually on its own to implement. The fans thought it was an understatement crappy words and "What did you want to achieve by that?" Has been a solid part of the list of standard questions.

Bill can not impress them, but sat down in front of the mirror, hineingestarrt and asked me for a while whether I should believe that people could change.
I did not think a week later he was back hair as black as ever.

My Dreads had never stops, just like my baggies and shirts and baseball caps. I tear still the same adolescent jokes and have given up on me so to occur even funny. Does nothing but yes.

Had Bill and I have a pair, I would say we have less and less sex. Our night out is very little and yet we keep our hands otherwise most of us. When she noticed me, I thought I would miss it, but I have not. It has not bothered me, just as it has me terrified only briefly, as a mom, my cuddle pillow in the attic to disappear.

I catch myself sometimes in how I'm hanging in clubs, other mid-twenties watch the celebrations and I wonder if you have not pushed myself too early in the party scene. Or if there is a fixed period of time in the life of every man, give in, he finds it cool, have fun with brightly colored cocktails and mediocre beats on crowded dance floors, a wolf, and my time - because dawned too early - already used up.
If there is this rule, must belong to George but to the exceptions. Gustav only right, he always turns to the more, the older he gets. Sometimes I watch them in how they sink into a lush cleavage grinning drunk, and I try not to think that my listlessness could also be because of my brother, sucking the expression with a grave next to me in a glass of grenadine.

I miss the thrill that we had before, when we do not yet know whether and how this or that works. Do we get the price that we can make it number one? Glad to no longer have the stress, I still am. I really do not know what I want, but that's OK. I'm Bill. He pursued his goals straight and without batting an eyelash. The "Wings of the decade it was called New Year's Eve 2010 in various formats, and he pulled up between band practice and fashion shoot the shoulders, and meant" course. "

He does not say more when he is tired. Now and then you can watch him, if one is sitting in the same boat as him, but also guarantees a free view no. He has even begun with the people from the inside to select whom he shows his little Abgeschminkt eyes in the non-imaging bathroom light and who not.

Bill typed minutes on a monotonous rhythm on the water glasses, before he turns around and one introduces each of us. He must have his make-up revisited while I'm here just sat around and did nothing. His face radiates beauty and dusted before formally perfectly curled symmetry.
with a glass clacking he sets up a bottle of vodka on the table, screwed them carefully and fill the glasses to the brim. Then he screwed it just as carefully again, places it next to the water bottle and turns both so that their labels show exactly forward.

He bends sideways and reaches into his purse, standing next to his chair. What he encourages them to light, I know, before it on the Table sets and pulls out with immaculate nails sizzling right corner. There are two cardboard boxes of pills, the first sealed clean. The pills in the second box, which are declared as aspirin, are located separately in small plastic bags and do not look as if they would only help against headaches.

Bill pushes the tablet through the foil and reeled it from the plastic before it is distributed alternately on our glasses. The more I see him here, the calmer I become. When he is finished, I feel so left like it was a long time.

"What do you want?" He asks. As before. Our mother taught us to be equitably shared, by taking a break from us the biscuit apart, and the other half has to choose,.

silence I reach for his glass and he smiles and nods. We share the same vodka to his lips and throw the head back in sync. The many to swallow tablets gradually and suddenly, an uncomfortable feeling and the alcohol burns and increases the scratch rather than that he was stunned.

When I again feel the eyes slide open and the last pill of my esophagus, Bill puts his arms left and right on the back and sighs.

"I'm tired," he mutters.

"sleep well", I whisper back.

Superbia Luxuria Ira Gula Avaritia Invidia Acedia

How Can I Skip A Period On Camila?

777 - Your blood in my veins - P18 - BillxTom - (6 / 7)

sin Invidia ° envy
Author: unspoiled
characters: Bill, Tom, OFC
Rating: P16
Warnings / Genre: Lime
Summary: you envied him. Ideally.
Disclaimer: I managed to tinker in the comet a mobile, thanks to Bill and Tom asleep hours ago, and dream of children shampoo and Nena Deluxe. similar light malice, and to set the wrong head and large eyes with which they watch a never directly.
The splendid specimen in my lap smiles even apologetically, as if we had an intimate Agreement: I lie to you, you're lying to me, we're even "Yes, sure, right?" Laughs Tom, who had just made the bathroom is, where he has baseball cap and bandana pulled laboriously from the head. It is his way to make easy any comment if it bursts into an open conversation. In fact, he said, "I'm here, I join in now", but to formulate the so would most people as crazy and strange feel. One can never say exactly what to say, dear children, for that no one buys. Honest people are liars and have massive mental problems and should be handled with kid gloves and pliers. Tom has never understood what they said before he is to come. Namely that she is not impressed by the little gold nuggets that float into our champagne. Impress me, they honestly can not, or rather, nothing more. Stirred me diamonds in my cornflakes and I am doing because of me surprised, but tears simple gold leaf me a long time. I have read enough of the stuff to me to shit dollars. By the way, notice the consumption of diamonds in an interesting manner of death, extravagant and would certainly be very spectacular, quite apart from the imagery. It would be the literal croak on luxury. The only problem would be the pain. So many advantages, the Sparks may have to let me cut up rough edges of their intestine and bleeding to death internally, I imagine not very pleasant before. "Not even a little jealous that you get the can not do every day?" I tease them. I am sweet and she's as sweet whisper of "but". And then I could have them "please" say, before the champagne of may suck my fingers. In my head, the screenplay is already finished, they just have to play. But it does not. She shakes her head and laughs again. You do not tape all times or cackles, laughs but a bright, pretty girl smile. "You know, sweetie," she says as she places her warm hands on my shoulders, "I would not want to be famous. Too much stress. "
Slowly I am pissed. What is she gives off is definitely the wrong text.

"You can admit it, I Gurr. It can not only do they need. give me instead
an answer, she turns to the whole body to Tom and said with a drunken emphatically: "You look so much better." "by Bill provides for any of the better," Tom smirks and winks at me.
"wanker", I hiss back, but not because the joke at my expense, but because he has not a bit annoying. As we bring these tables in a hotel room with five stars, proffer her golden champagne and put it on the knees of the most sought-after teen idol of all Germany and she has the nerve and acts as if the things are not as nice. Not something one would be envious. Tom FLAKT next to me and lets himself fall theatrically to the rear, before it from resting on his elbows and hochschielt to us. "Sometimes I'd be quite happy to unknown. Aw, perfectly ordinary victims, that each morning with a barrow moms may rust bucket to an apprenticeship and take the bus if he or she need the car to go shopping. "

" Ohhhh, "she chuckles.

"Yes, right? And has no money for some hot clothes and the friend with the best mate is cheating, because it is so `NEN has small tail," he grinned wallows in self-pity and she gets fully into it. Before he can subtly suggest that something consolation would be appropriate, so that poor and rich pop star does not have to cry, they have slipped from my knees between his legs, makes short work of his baggies and takes him into her mouth. Tom gasped appreciatively, lies down flat on his back and feels blindly for me. "So good," he babbles, as he deals with my T-shirt on which he tried to pull me downward.

I am fighting, when I get up, I grab the Schampusflasche and empty on the way to the balcony in a train drinking. The balcony door was one of those child-proof, with the only adult problems and I only after a short battle full of curses and the completely absurd shame, I do so before the cock sucker for monkeys, releases into the cool night air.

glisten outside the stars of the road traffic calming noise rises and drops in the room the groans of Tom fiepende rough lips, rustling of my ears right into my cock. Romantic It could not.

I put the bottle carefully on the narrow railing and examine it from every possible angle and long distance before I miss her a nudge and the tiny balcony leaning away from me, to see them fall into the depths and to count the seconds until it shatters clinking on the sidewalk. I am a bit disappointed when not a cry is heard. Whether in terror or in pain I would have been regardless, but obviously the bottle without kissing the pavement and the sound effects bursting of glass fades as no response as I asked if they would not even get drunk like every day with champagne.

Despite Tom's singing performance I start to shiver, but back into the room I will not. Even if I'm cold, I feel good out here. My head is clearer, I can breathe deeply in and out and I do not see the girl that my life would not have.

I sat cross-legged on the cold floor, lean against the front and I try desperately to find a critical point where I start my Meissen and they can take apart all the rules of art. There must be something because I'm sure, but the noise she coaxed my brother to me obscure the view. You can swim it in ecstasy, I can not be mad at her. Maybe later, if he has not injected and swallowed it - at least I hope so

Until then I will stay here and sit me imagine what would have happened if the bottle to innocent civilians would have smashed his skull.









Superbia Luxuria



Ira

Gula

Avaritia
Invidia
Acedia

Coolscan 5000 Fo Novices

777 - Your blood in my veins - P18 - BillxTom - (5 / 7)


sin
Avaritia ° greed

Author:

unspoiled

characters: Bill, Tom Rating: P16 Warnings / Genre: Melodrama !

Summary: four comets and the world at your feet. Life was never terrible.
Disclaimer: Toms sucking has finally turned up again and we were able to dry his tears. Bill has found the box with my old Barbie stuff in the garage and is very happy. the Rotlichtberzirk in my head and encouraged frau_miau
made for the soundtrack. I came to your first, second, to recognize and then clicking
/ / The quote by Johann Gottfried von Herder (1744 - 1803)..
Comment: Written for
7_suenden
and schokoko. Do you know what to never insatiable? The eye of greediness. All goods of the world fill the cavity is not ... "Jimi will make in your pants, "Bill grinned as he fumbled with his belt buckle and pulls down his zipper. "Hm," I nod, lean against the wall with folded arms and pursue even the most faint flash of his rings in the dim lighting. I stare for more than plump, I know, but why should I pretend that I would not find this sight interesting. Imagine that, Ladies: Bill Kaulitz, the beautiful angel, draped in his chaste turtleneck cashmere sweater, with sadomasochism jewelry and flowing hair, smooth silk, pure, and far superior to any low sex - and with his tail in his hand, the He really should not have. You would just stare, believe me. Especially when the angel stands before a backdrop like this. The organizer is apparently assumed that his men's room will be this evening the scene for a whole series of indecent scenes - why else would he have to give a toilet with warm, subdued lighting and half a forest of green stuff so much atmosphere. The whole room just calls it, press next to the urinals a Tipsy girl against the wall and go between their legs on expedition. "you stringing me now a piss, you perverted pig?" Complains the angel. He tries to sound Motzigkeit, but his mouth would not stay down. Sweet, how he plays the embarrassed, right? "Who knows", Gurr I lower his head and kick my piercing back and forth. It excites him beyond measure, if I flirt with him as with Gülcan and cohorts, and yet it always has this certain effect on him. "You are so lame," he snorted. And what effect. As if I had not seen how he has his little friend down there missed a few careless strokes. It makes him. And what's even better: he can not help it.
"When it gets hard, Can you do that with the piss eh forget it. " He growls. Yes, I admit, I am a decadent asshole. But let's be honest again, my true-hearted teddy bear eyes and the movies that play just behind it thanks to its openness and fit perfectly in those declared as toilet Dark Room. Compared to the sink, in front of the mirrors, even as a couch, a monster made of red velvet, flashy, expensive, and inviting. "When it gets hard, you will runterwichsen him," he replied tartly, throwing a reluctant look down. It's like in slow motion films in the program with the mouse, we have looked at as children. You can see how slow the blood, but steadily pulsing in his hand. Sounds strange, but Sun "Is that a invitation?" "no. You have your own. Go play with it and leave me alone. " The man is prompt but after only too pleased. "In` mechanical cab, Tom! " Too late, now I feel my belt is already hanging in the knees, now I can no longer run.
Bill runs his hands through his hair and tries to clear a few cool ideas. He probably thinks of George's naked torso. Or Gustavus naked eggs. God we had with this idiot should never rape biscuits. Such images you will not let go.
But he seems to help. At least until I'm so cute and remind him how it sounds when a Tom has his hand in his pants and his lower lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.

Bill does not want to squint to the side, his resistance is almost palpable, but he still looks natural and chasing me with his black eyes, a shiver down the spine and right between the legs. I return the favor by making my tongue with my piercing leave a little dance till it has the gloss wet flies on the Bill as a magpie on a piece of aluminum foil. It's not that he did not know that I disconnect a show for him and especially enjoys the feel gasp. It is not that he did not know what will happen if he ignored me from the outset not ice cold. It's just that he is hell bent. Bill will give the decent young man, he wants to be seduced by his horny twin, it is a frame-up and its course is over the years become a ritual ceremony. Listening "We have no time for that." ye? Reason. Morality. An angel.
"If you blow it goes,'s faster," said the devil .


"Tom" out there are four bodyguards. What do you know what happens when a check of which is where we stay so long? "
This rationality. So professional. So uptight virginal. And of course I have nothing better to do than throaty moan and me to enjoy the invention of the thumb. Things can be done so many great things. Lust, the first drop to wipe from the tip and it painfully slow to lick clean, for example.
"I did not want to get with you on the toilet, to ... for something."
I pull my thumb with a smacking sound from my mouth and look at him perplexed. I do not like his tone. He does not fit the game.
"Why then?"
He writhes. He presses the index and middle fingers on the left and right against his nose as if he could take a while, what in his head like a pimple.
"Bill?"
"I ..."
"Bill."
I stow my holiest makeshift, my pants back angle at the right height and shuffle over to him. "Bill," I say again and put my hand on his shoulder hard. He is stiff as a porcelain figurine. "We have cleared four comets. Four. We showed it all away and get us no more. We have made it. This is our party. We ... "
" That's just it, "he whispers with head down.
"What is it you?" I ask and get me this very dense. His muscles cramp in my fingers even more.
"I do not feel it."

There are situations in life that are simply just absurd. One can not believe it, you look at yourself and you have to laugh.
There are moments that are superior to any absurdity. Being on a pimped up shit house behind his twin, where everything is clothed except for the only important part, and to feel like one's own pants slide down a gently scraping sound of the legs, is one of them. It would be absurd, it would be funny, but Bill has Pain. I can feel it in the air. He exhales and I am breathing.

"I was so high during the ceremony. I thought, I explode. And then we get even the super-comets and then we went down and now we are here and I feel it not, Tom. "His voice is hounded with every word, light and rough, like a few months ago, when he received thanks to the cyst on his vocal cords barely a sound out.

"I'm so looking forward to the ceremony. I've also got total, as we are running as before. But now we have these things and ... "He sighs and leans forward, away from my hand. "Why, I'm lookin not?

"The sink must be back. It was so much at once, the set needs time. And you did not drink less degree. "It is whisked shit that I runterrattere, but I can not keep from speaking to us and admit that I am speechless. I fill the empty space with empty words, and of course it helps anything, but I can imagine me at least, I could give him our support.

Bill makes my helplessness to his shoulders, clap. He leans in so far as he can without losing balance. It is not the first time I experience it so, but so far he has remained silent and has been fogged with cigarette smoke. It hurt to see him and he sent me out of the room in the back of the tour bus, or wherever he could banish me just the best.

some point they go out of me, the empty words. I'm breathing heavy, while Bill is no more sound. When he would hold his breath.

I do not dare to touch him. I do not dare to get away from him. I do not dare to accuse him that he has this void all the time in his intestines to be eaten, without their existence to me to admit. That he treated me like a child, which one does not say that the mom with cancer was admitted to the hospital so it can sleep well at night. I do not dare as to think whether I'm angry at him because he protected me, or because he has removed the protection given. But I am angry, that's for sure.
We worked hard, we have bent us and bent over and now we have finally reached it, danced out to our tune - to his tune - and he's looking forward to damn dumb and stupid about it and the assholes in the outdoors dazzling hall with his beaming smile, charring them to the greedy eyes staring. He is a shining hero, he's my shining hero, and I know his weaknesses. But this is not a weakness. This is a total loss and most of all I would beat out the ugliness of it.
I Had someone else, I would certainly do it. I would spin around him and after him all the tricks to polish the face until he grins of sheer adrenaline and endorphins in the circle.

"You're my brother," croaks Bill, as he had read my thoughts. As I was by this fact obliged to take him in her arms and comfort her. As he would have the right to put me to open his heart with all the blackish diseased vessels around it. The trouble is, he really does exist. And I have to think if I do not want to be buried under its weight.

I resist with life and the flush of victory, he dies. It is blatantly unfair. For both of us.

My hand hovered over his neck, ready to grab him by the neck, ready, the goose bumps wegzustreicheln it until I turn around and begin to run almost as if I am fleeing to the sink.

Bill pulls a hissing air. It feels like a cut, I feel numb. It's still ridiculous, spilling my jeans still around my ankles like a puddle, and Bill's tail is still there. I try to laugh, but my reflection makes a face only a mask-like visage. We

silent and I realize why he I always wanted them out of reach, if he has smoked too much. The silence between us is thick and remains in slimy lumps stuck in my lungs. The system is sick. Bill has metastases in the heart.

"I'm sorry," he says. We hear only the consonants, dry and emotionless.

I think that security is now probably really asking if we have not fallen into the toilet. I think of Jimi, the inflatable lip wonder how he squeezes the legs so as not to get wet. I let the applause once again rushing through my ears. It could all be so beautiful. It should. Do we not deserve it? Did not he deserve it?

And when is it tilted? When some cruel God has decided that I can do no more than to keep his hand and whisper to him in his ear that he is not alone? When I became so weak that I can keep us both on his feet? Or I was about never strong enough and he has always been corrupt enough to be undermining it?

cavities make walls and buildings stable. A facade can only be obvious but not certain.


It's so goddamn absurd that I would cry. I hate it.

And it goes further. Impasse.

Outside there is a heated discussion, which is dull in our silence pressed. Someone scrapes his foot and accidentally knocks him against the door. Bill winces, his braces interfere with a clicking noise with his chain.

I am so ridiculous that it's absurd.

Saki knocks two times "boys?" His bass sounds through the door yet sonorous than it already is anyway. Life is out there and it is waiting for us.

my pants I Raffe high, smooth over my shirt and go to Bill. He does not move when I repack it again and shut his belt buckle.
"Fighter"
standing on it.
I push my fingers in his hands, he hit a quick kiss on the mouth and drag it to the exit. Even during the first steps he withdraws his fingers and slowly I see when I press down the handle and protect me with a glance over his shoulder, I was in a smiling face.









Superbia Luxuria



Ira

Gula
Avaritia
Invidia

Acedia

How To Prevent Trench Foot

777 - Your blood in my veins - P18 - BillxTom - (4 / 7)


sin
Gula Gluttony °

Author:



unspoiled

characters: Bill, Tom

Rating: P16 (Slash) Warnings / Genre: (something Twincest) [double PWP: no plot and no porn. Uh ...? Uh! ] Summary: Bill should get everything, and Tom can get everything. Almost everything. Disclaimer: The Super Nanny is abandoned after Bill refused to anything other than a silent throne to think about his misdeeds. Tom still mourned the Long-T and forbids me to take photos.

.
My little brother is already weaned now he has to be abgeflascht.
I put my hand on his shoulder as we walk to the car. To my car. I would not be the brother of my twin if I had not given me even a sled, which I own in the first place and just barely drive. It is a Porsche 911 Turbo, black metallic, red leather interior. I love it.
Tom has complained that he had no place in it. No leg room. From Fickfreiheit in the back seat to mention. "As you bring more than` NEN Chihuahua and your handbag under, "he nagged and verkreuzt arms over his chest. I explained to him that I care for my women to be stylish as fuck in the back seat. I also have no desire to spoil the expensive leather with various stains.
"You take it` s rubber, "he said and a moment I considered many frightened. course I do this otherwise I would indeed be a long time ago at least five times the father and blessed with just as many nice STDs. Chaste heartthrob died of hepatitis B, yes, that would be a headline. Maybe later when I'm tired of life. Tired of life. matter would not have to cum on my upholstery the problem. It would be an act of denunciation area, a proof of masculinity - a very stone-age, but a proof of masculinity. Bill Kaulitz signed his car with his God-given Edding, the value would be enormous. The face of several women also too precious, "Please, beauty, get one. And you do not disturb the spots you get after the gala dinner also like your fair share. "
No, the problem would be the liquid that is losing the female body. Something I will not have in my car, but the very idea is disgusting. But who carelessly so with its styling Tom is such that does not interfere with a patterned back seat. Just lately he does more or less blindly into his closet and it will not last long, and he combines orange with purple caps Long-Ts and forgets his pants. I strive earnestly for me to get riled about this, but every time I come to the conclusion that I would take him even in garbage bags in purchasing. God's grace to him that he is aware and he revels in perpetuity in worship at my boundless tolerance. Anyway, we walk to my car and Tom's back is warm and soft. He is wearing only a T-shirt, although it now has four clock in the morning, but pretty cool.
"Cold?" I ask and he shakes his head and grins at me wide. He is as stern as the velvety black sky drunk and colliding with his shoulder again and again against mine. "cleverness going," I exhort him. "Feet high, step, on the other foot high. Forward, not sideways. "
Tom chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist as I was one of his shiksa. "I love you," he whispers in my ear. His breath reeks of alcohol and cigarettes. "Kiss me." "Tom, you're tight." "Kiss me!" "Forget it, man." He stops so abruptly that I almost stumble forward.
"You love me not," he wails tearfully.

"Dude, fuck you. I'm tired, I want to go home. Come on now. "
Tom pushes out his lower lip and sniffs. If he would see his tables now, he would have been the longest time as a hard trigger. "Take not a show off and come." Yes, I'm annoyed. I have my brother way too often drunk, stoned, high or intoxicated in any way seen as that I could still find kind of funny.
It pisses me when he partied out, those mind games played with me, and it pisses me off a lot of more that he deposited so much shit in his body. As if he had a second one in the basement. As if I still had a second twin. "You sobbed ...", Tom and his voice trembles dangerous. The asshole does it really finished and burst into tears when I am not now careful.

"Tom," I say gently, put me close to him and taking his face in my hands. His cheeks are rough. "You are my life, Tom. But now my life is full of alcohol and drugs, you know, and I just can not stand on some dark parking lots and kiss my brother. First I have my Get life back together. "

Tom winks at me innocently and nods. If he has registered a single word other than his name, I will cancel the rest of the week, the concealed bitch and swing the mop itself.

°

"I'm hungry," says Tom, that we are hardly gone a hundred yards.

"You have empty eaten together with Georg determined 'half pizzeria, before we're gone."

"Yes." He slipped back and forth in his seat and leaned his forehead against the window pane. "But George has left nothing to me ... almost. George "- he is from a carbon dioxide-filled Masculinity proof interrupted - ". Is an asshole"? McDoof, okay, "

I sigh and try to concentrate on the road. Actually, I'm much too tired to take care of all the nasty curves. Carrera a car that would be something nice. He checked into the lane on the road, sits comfortably behind the wheel and there is only gas. No strenuous driving, no eye is squeezed, and especially not consider whether the asphalt up there really makes a turn or I but my imagination.

"but now I'm hungry," nags Tom. If he crumbles even deeper into the seat, it is precisely the belt have on the throat.

"Sit up straight."

He annoyed grunts. But he obeyed.

"food."

"after."

"Now."

"Tom, you could eat at the party and you will be able to eat again, what if we are back at the hotel. Is not my fault that the club have padded into Hinterwäldlernirwana, so stop trying to nag me to rejoice Enter at your hangover tomorrow. "

silence. Wonderful. The drunken brother has come for inspection, I found the freeway and no later than half an hour I'm going into my soft, soft bed to hide.

"My stomach makes funny noises."

"I hear nothing."

"Yes. There! You have to listen so, "he said reproachfully. He pushes her back through, so that his flat stomach to a distended sphere under the fabric floods typing, testing with both index fingers against it and says, in the weighty tone of that one in his particular state or brings about: "Quite hollow."

Ethanol, alcohol, a hollow pear - very well, handsome. Tomorrow I have to always call Mom and ask her how she could answer for it that her elder so grow a brain-free idiots.

"You have done whatever is pure, Bill
Bi-hill. I correct: to such an idiotic giant baby.
"Right, Tom," I Faucher. If the wheel is not solid, I would have surely crushed long ago, as hard as I embrace it.
Why does he always give the edge restraint, if I'm missing? Why can not George go on the bag or Gustav? Saki would enjoy the visit also has a few extra hours. Moreover, this could take even dreadbelockten washcloth. Or in the pram push around. One would Tom be only a nipple to suck and his little spare Gangster world would be full of pink cotton candy and happiness.


"You're 'mad' meekly, it comes from the passenger seat.

"Yes."

"excuse." And as his stomach growls really. At some point he thought I was still mad.

"What do you want?" I asked as calmly and friendly, as the yellow "M" is burning through the darkness in my retina. I hate neon signs. A little disgusting, there is hardly penetrating.

"Wieimmer," Tom mumbles.

When I give up at the drive-In the order, he falls next to me apart like a small child whose Despite tears are only just dried up and knows that it really does not deserve the sweets. But what child says no to candy already?

"Are not you ...?" Asks the frits chubby lady who hands me the bags through the window.

"Nena, yes," I reply dry throw, Tom's midnight snack in your lap and hit the accelerator.

eats Given his blood alcohol content in particular, and his table manners in general, he behaved almost frightening. ? Also "

A long, thin fries shares my field of vision into two halves: East Pomerania and West Pomerania.

"ketchup."

"Oh. Excuse. "Disappears, the chips and dips not three seconds later, wrapped in a neat red cloak again. I grab it, while I turn down a gear and Tom squeals on amused when my teeth graze his fingers.

"vampire", he posited, even chewing satisfaction. The french fries taste hot, greasy and sweet potato, and thus neither in nor after tomato, but Tom is mild and salty fingers and so definitely that of my brother.

"one yet?" He asks, and three chips pushed into the mouth. ? Nen finger "



he laughs -" For you always. "- and I already have his index finger in his face. I kiss the pink dome, grinning and Tom laughed again, but this time, so serious that I wonder how drunk he really is yet.

°

He is still very drunk. Or very tired. In any case, it can be more dragging on my back as he runs on its own, as we go through the garage to the elevator.
In the elevator, he then hangs up on it like a wet sack of flour with whole grain bundles in a corner and looks amused eyed ongoing reflection of his weary face in the mirrored walls. He chuckles softly, biting his piercing und kichert wieder.

„Was so lustig?“, frage ich gähnend.

„Blut“, lallt er gedehnt. „Da!“

Ich muss erst blinzeln, doch dann sehe ich es. Er hat Ketchup auf der Nase. Ohne zu überlegen lecke ich meinen Daumen ab und wische den roten Fleck weg. Tom quäkt empört.

Ich könnte seiner besoffenen Entrüstung damit begegnen, dass ich ihn darauf hinweise, dass er derjenige war, der mich zum Vampir erklärt hat, aber ich bin zu müde. Wenn ich nicht aufpassen müsste, dass mein herrlich nüchterner Zwilling nicht über seine dicke Hose stolpert, wäre ich schon längst im Stehen eingeschlafen.

"Come," I mutter, as the elevator doors slide apart again, put his arm over my shoulders and make me with him on the seemingly endless journey to his room. It's damn hard - two kilos heavier than me, to be exact, but his condition this tenfold difference - and besides, he always stops to admire the great art that is displayed throughout the hall.

"Tom, this is wallpaper."

"Yes ... Pi-hinselführung "

I must really love him madly. Another explanation may not be given for my voluntary martyrdom.

some point - a Picasso and abstract art much later, or better still, we then reach his door and fall more into the room when we entered it. I tow Tom immediately on his bed, where he is lying, as I have thrown it, and immediately closes his eyes.

In moments like this I would rather not think about whether I'm just drunk or not.

I rub on the eyes that feel swollen all over, and push myself to the hard edge of one of my rings.

"night," Tom sighs from the bed, turns on its side and rolls up into a ball. To a large, stinking of stale smoke Official ball of black Nicki. I told him that neither a pair of pants or a jacket in this fabric Teddy with his gangsta style compatible - and if she is still cut so far.
He would not listen. He said we could "go then at least in color again in matching outfits," and his eyes were so brown and the Velvet Sun plush and soft, as he stretched out his hand to me and stiffened his sleeve my bare arm is that I told him These cuddly pajamas ban could not. Even if this combination is one of the outfits, which I liked him a bling-bling chain "has Yes, we are twins, but the flavor just gotten my brother" with an emblem was put on.

I prefer quietly cursing at him. The fact that his clothes more or less self slipping from him down, if you pull just the right places and attracts one of the few positive qualities in them. Actually, the only one. And, when I'm cold and I need a blanket, Toms jackets are not bad either.

Because Tom is on the quilt and so I have no chance to promote him under it, I pilgrimage to my own room and get my ceiling. I have to give a more than ridiculous picture, as I stumble to the large white down monster and very small eyes on the dim hallway, but that does not do anything for his twin. Again arrived at Tom, I must say that we are not stopping in this hotel when I had deposited my second cosmetic bag in Tom's bathroom, so I have no alternative but to make me a second time on the road.

I Until finally, with Tom on his bed and under my blanket, I'm just four times between his room and mine forth, hurrying to and because I had forgotten until a change of underwear for tomorrow and I then occurred is that I would probably still to attract more than just a boxer shorts will.
Tom has experienced nothing like this course and Sleeping is still blessed by smacking the dream land of Playboy Bunnies and Picasso wallpaper. Now, as his smoky clothes is going on, only his hair smell Clubmief. I push it over his shoulder, so that they fall in front of his chest on the sheets, press my nose into his neck and inhale the sweet Tomgeruch until I fall asleep.

°

I wake up in paradise. And I can tell you, people see it totally different than the dinky fairy tales, that your parents wanted to bring you the wonderful world of books close.
flow In true paradise no rivers of milk and honey, and it does not fly fried pigeon in the air. In real paradise flow of coffee, vodka and apple juice. In real paradise It smells of freshly fried bread, fried bacon and are drowsiness and people are not perfectly round and have gallstones. In the true land of plenty, there are only two people and one of them long dreads that look all over the wax, despite rather rough, and he sits as God created him on a large double bed, surrounded by countless bowls and plates.
says the true paradise that person "Breakfast is ready" and grinning ear to ear by a schlafzerknickten. And the second man replies, "What the hell ..." and trying to accumulate as hervorzuschlängeln under the blanket that he Meißnerporzellan to the few hundred € does not bring a case or break.

"I ordered room service," Tom said brightly.

"You can not miss" I grummle. Should he not sit in the corner whimpering and keep his head so that is not blown up by his cat?

"must test you put it all on me on it?" I shrug and continue grummle a hair shy away from me to support in a bowl of black caviar.

"fish eggs", I turn up their nose. And in my bed, well, thank you. As my eggs are clean and my account from Tom, but otherwise no. Above all, no slippery roe.

"Royal Black" says Tom. "Blacker they did not have. And I thought ... "

" As long as it is black, Bill finds it great? "

" 50 Grams, 370 euros, "says Tom.

"sick." And so he does not even disgusting in all. Multitude of tiny, wet, shiny beads, as covered by iridescent piano lacquer.

"How do you eat that stuff for?"

Tom reached out for the bowl, spoon a little caviar on a thin piece of baguette, playing with his piercing while it is obviously focused on it with not too much or too little lemon juice and pepper to season, and bends again to me to have to bite me.

"If you do not like it, then you can spit it so again," he encouraged me with glittering eyes. I will ask him if he tried it himself or taster here with me playing, but the direct light reflections on the black seeds from me very much.
"Come on," Tom purrs and nudges the bread against my lower lip.

"If I am allowed to throw up, you wipe up," I murmur, before I close my eyes and my resignation to my fate.
It tastes amazing. Surprisingly little disgusting and somehow surprisingly unspectacular. I have to pass either, nor I can understand why all the fine Pinkel such a cinnabar host it.

"And?" Asks Tom. I take him the rest of the bread from his hand and shove it into my mouth. His facial features fall for a moment and I know immediately that he had expected that I spit out everything and get rid of the taste with two liters of apple juice try.

fact I live but even the oysters that Tom has organized. They taste exactly as it was imagined, salty, cold and slimy. Similar ice-cold cunt. Nevertheless, the caviar is from earlier in my stomach, just like my coffee, the pie, the composition of Tom has forgotten, but simply divine tastes, the rose jelly Petits Fous and gold leaf decorated chocolate truffles. Not to mention the English marmalade and all the other stuff that children as Trucker Tom and I have not even known by name until he has landed in our bellies.

"Do you think you can eat dead?" I ask Tom, while I feed with a coffee spoon the rest of the Royal Black in him. Tom pushes a black pearl with the tip of her tongue over his upper lip, cocks his head and nodded at last.

"And how much has this actually cost?"

"thousands," he yawns.

"Are you crazy?"

Tom grins and places his open hand on my crotch. "Well, what has cost the caviar, you know. And then put the oysters on top and all the other Feinkostkram. The coffee that you drank was, by the way Kopi Luwak. As does a cup of coffee for up to six euros. So six euros for the powder, the whole cup-to-parking available bells and whistles from the hotel is there still not there. And then the tip. But do not want our humble snack tomorrow in Bravo lands, right? And if I'm ordering breakfast for you and just under 900, then it would have been shit if I did not do a thousand out of it. "

As he speaks, He fondles me with your fingertips through the fabric of my boxer shorts and neither nor its designs have no effect.

"You see," he coos and closer. "I know how to wake a Luxushure."

I let my head roll in the neck and waiting that his hand under my collar creeps, but she does not. Instead, I suddenly feel Tom's teeth in my ear, his warm breath that hinunterkriecht my neck.

"Do not you know how I did the thousand full?"

absorbing heavy I let me pull up, teeter down gently from the dishes cluttered bed Tom and follow to the bathroom.

Two things strike me immediately: it is larger than my first and second the tub to the brim with steaming white water

"You're not as pure wanking," I said doubtfully. Tom rolls his eyes, as if there was anything more absurd.

"It's goat's milk, you pig," he snorts, pulls me in front of the tiled edge and gives me a tug on my T-shirt to understand that I have to move out. I'm not sure if it would be so much less perverse, to bathe in hot goat's milk than in his cum, but that many food has made me lazy to protest.

"Why exactly the whole washing up? "I ask him when I sit down to the chest in the milk and to admit that it still feels a lot more pleasant than pure, water everyday.

Tom hands me a glass of sparkling champagne in hand, before turning to me leans over and abutting against the rim with me.

"Decadence, Beautiful," he says throaty. "You get what you deserve." We drink the pale golden liquid dancing through my throat and Tom to give. We slide deeper, until we are milk up to his neck out and support our legs, the hips of the other.

"Cleopatra bathed in something."

I give him a smile at them, he gives our glasses full again, we beschnipsen us with white drops, he dips one of his dreadlocks and painted a milk mustache.

"Now you are a fine man, Congratulations. And welcome to the club. "

Tom leaves for a whole tidal wave to roll on me and I can stop just in time to breath and close your eyes. When I was snorting reemerging, Tom can pop the cork of the next bottle.

We are sitting in a palace of Italian marble bath, fragrance oils are guided by the senses clouded, called earn "bewitching" really, and can We barely move. My arms and legs weigh tons, I am doomed to lie there, smiling at his head on the tub edge, and Tom and smile and smile. He grins back, we drink champagne, our faces are red from the hot steam.

Sometime I close my eyes, let my body float and breathe heavy Toms presence. I'm fed up to the top.

I think I'm asleep. Short. I do not know exactly, but when I opened my eyes again, hovering over my mouth Toms and it is only natural that I should capture his lips, his heated body on my pull down and we kiss in slow motion, infinite slow and endless.

There is no bit is obscene that I spread my legs for him so that he can in between. There is no more obscene that he groans into my mouth, a soft, dark cooing as he would mutter a meditation formula right. It is not obscene, that I sigh and hum There is nothing obscene. It is music.

We see ourselves not to take and we do not, we just feel, and it seems to me like we were not anything more to use in a position to all five senses simultaneously. Too strenuous.

Somehow it begins at some point but draw. It's on Tom's account, just as the caviar and the royal wellness program, and I trust that he cares This is another point. He will find it in any case, my as close as his belly.

Tom pulls his eyebrows and grins his Checker grin as he shifted his weight slightly and I stab him in the thigh.

"Go's are good, huh?" He whispered and lets his arm with an estimated two centimeters per minute from the rim slip into the water. Tom is and remains simply an asshole. But actually, I'm back too tired to get excited about it. At some point, his hand will somehow arrive where it is needed, and until then I can test drive of how milk taste when they are sucking out of his hair. Enough champagne for rinsing is for. can

If I'm honest, I would almost wish someone to watch and witness what I can accomplish with his dreads. Things of which his sluts can only dream of. Things that can not even afford to Mama. I bet I could even piss about it, if I only play the cards right. And no, this idea is not obscene. Or disgusting. But the A-body people can understand very difficult.

is this sense of what Tom is doing, is ultimately only self-gratification of the more complicated the better Art Art

So it can happen to surprise me just as he pressed my cock between the ass cheeks at once.

The water gurgles happily ironic when I try to jerk me set up under him and he almost falls back on my knees. I do not find the right angle, no real support to me, push up, and he makes very serious slides on my lap back and forth and looks at me. Black brown eyes, long eyelashes, glazed look. His tongue piercing kick to be back and forth.

"No." My voice sounds weird in all the haze of muffled.

"I will," he sighs.

I pinch up my eyes and peer over the edge of the bath mat. Two bottles are there, one is empty, the other is only a pitiful impossible rest I drank a whole bottle of champagne.

"Dude, you're tight. You do not want that, believe me. "

Tom pouts and pulls his head between his shoulders. "Please?" He whispered so softly that I almost missed.

"No."

"But with the women, because you do it." Begging from his glassy stare has become a sparkling look. If Tom with the charm of which he imagines that he could not get further, He switched to the toddler mode. If that fails, he is aggressive. If he still does not get what he wants, he becomes aggressive. I'm tired of his ears.

"You will regret it, Tom."
"No."
"It's going to hurt."
"No."
"You are heterosexual."
"No."
"You're my brother."
" No. "
" Tom. "
" No. "
" Can you also say something else other than no? "
" No. "
" Fuck you, really. "
" Me. "
" Tom! "
"No."

It is hopeless. "Then do," I snarl and let me fall to the smooth porcelain.

Tom looks at me confused.

"Come on, you plug it clean." I wipe a hand over his eyes, hot drops running down my hot face. Yes, I know that I act like the last Gefühlstrampel. No, I do not know if it is intentional.

Tom sets the brow and reaches under himself. Still, more frowning.

Twenty-one, twenty-two.

"You're not tough," he notes merits.

"Oh, ne. Jerk it you stop deal. "

It hurts me even to see his moves to derail a flabbergasted grimace. His mouth opens out and distort his eyebrows to bulky hook and he swallows. Then he gets up, stumbles dripping wet, as it is, to the door and slams it behind her.

I hope for him that the whole circus has not held because of this one thing. I hope for him that he will soon be sober and remembers that he gets all of me. Everything and everyone. And if the whole world for his wishes on it goes, who cares? He will be left in any case and so I too have everything I need.

The only thing he does not agree. This one. And if he wants it greatly, and if he was still firmly believes that it would be the crowning glory - I will not allow it to consume itself.

I can not allow it.

What should I do because even without my Tom?









Superbia Luxuria



Ira Gula

Avaritia

Invidia

Acedia

Vespa Gran Turismo Price Trend

777 - Your blood in my veins - P18 - BillxTom - (3 / 7)


sin
Ira ° revenge

Author:






unspoiled




characters:
Bill, Tom, OFC

Rating: P18 (Slash)
Warnings / Genre:
a little lime, a bit Twincest, a bit of violence

Summary: Tom has a toy. Bill has pride Ow.

Disclaimer: Bill has annexed my make-up, and Tom laid out my suspenders. The Super Nanny is on its way. 7_suenden , beta read by Moncheri.

revenge is a confession of pain. Her name is Eva and she must be a nice toy. Tom fucks her already for half a year at irregular intervals. It makes the legs wide for him when we are in Hamburg, and it makes her legs wide for him if she has just enough money left to him to stay behind. It makes the legs wide for him whenever he wants it, and Tom says she is so good that they could ask for money. course she never does. Not by him, not by a Kaulitz. Perhaps it is in mini and high heels at the bus station, if Tom does not need it, who knows. He can only use a condom a blow from her and she hopes time and time again that he finally kisses her. I can see it in her eyes when she looks expectantly up from below as they go to his room. It is a stupid chicken, but stupid fucks well known. So good that Tom for them against the principle of over it, and ex has failed hop. I was never there when he has her worried. At first I have heard at times, but Tom has taught her quickly that she has to shut up. Chatting and she does not cry they may not, after all, you never know whether some twins do not sleep next door.
She looks normal. Not pretty but not ugly. Just average. She has dyed red hair like the fashionable woman on the Perfume movie poster, she is not half as good. Her style is actually present enough to call it a style can, and not as the usual blind Together Now the H & M range. It looks cheap in the first place, but it is Tom. My dear brother does this with the "Biatches" really out of his hard, male hip-hop clubs Parade closely.
he offers me his little Privathure yet never before. "It's not like anal," he once let drop casually. First, I asked about whether they should lend to me? Second, he thinks I do not know that women have more holes than that between her ass cheeks? Third, why it is of interest, what they like?
I ignored his remark implied. If I Eva wants, then I take them from behind, just as I have taken his fire truck and his rag doll when we were young and innocent. We're twins, we share everything, even if we do not always are aware that we are willing to share a certain something. But we are always. The only thing we never share, is our brother. Tom is mine, wholly and completely, just as I was his. It would be crazy to anyone other than to trust him to have to have from anyone else. The world out there, my children, is bad and there are many evil souls who want to drive the loose with you. Anyone who throws each in the neck, which he promises eternal love, who deserves it, if his neck is broken.
Eva is such a naive thing, which sooner or later, dangling from the gallows of his credulity. She thinks she can win over Tom. The rudder turn things around. That the rudder at all does not hold in your hand, it is not even noticed. Everything is Eva, red lipstick and a garage for Toms small Cadillac, and thus can achieve nothing great. Nothing larger than a satisfied panting Tom, who can be infected by it a dump, sweep her off the ceiling.
I bet she is dark and imagines that it would be something special because he did not push the panties on the course, but freezing can find. I bet she thinks he would like to cuddle, would be too shy, but to do so. Big guys find it so difficult trying to show their feelings. I bet she leaves two fingers on his Upper arm, prancing and he hits her hand away like an annoying fly and turns his back to her. I bet she thinks, "What did I do wrong" Even if it's so cheesy because of all the high-romantic harmony, throw up that you could - Tom stuck and I actually 24 / 7 to each other if you let us.
Toms presence is different from that of other people. The presence of my mother can not ignore. Or by Gustav and Georg. If they are, they're there, and I'd do the devil and come without the towel from the bathroom. Not that I would be embarrassed. It makes what is not easy. Toms presence, however, is barely perceptible. Only if he goes, falls on me that he was just there and if he no longer comes back is to me no other choice than I pinch a fag between his lips, and my search company, loud people, me with the most impossible trivia zutexten and for heaven's sake do not let me speak out. They never make it, take my feeling of loneliness, but they at least stun the small, sardonic voice in my ear, singing to me as I'm leaving it. Toms society is no society, it is an essential necessity. He did not maintain. To be honest we hardly talk to each other, if only we are. Of course we produce sound waves - I love to produce sound waves - but all that really matters, we must not tell us. So what, dear children, you know. If the rules of this disgusting thing called decency forbid is not so, Tom with me. As children we were able to simulate paranoia from burglars to sleep in a bed, semi-accidentally drown in the tub to bathe together can, and keep each other's hand was not something we had to feel ashamed, but an occasion for general sentimental delight in this cute, Dearest guys who get along so beautiful. Today I have Tom's hand more necessary than ever, but now I'm grown and grown and I intertwine my fingers only with those of shiksa. The Indians in South America believe that a camera would steal the soul of the photographed person. I would dismiss as naive superstition, if I do not know how it feels when the day is scratched the surface of their own, bored, staring, polished and maintained. I need my soul, I need Tom's hand, so they suck me and openly steal from these small, greedy envious. Therefore, dear children, I'm sitting next to him. That's why I'm sitting so close beside him, so my hand touches his knee, his upper arm, so I look at him and not the moderator, tried to pull me to the brain through the nose. If I could touch Tom, I could let you look into my eyes. But as I have no alternative but to expand my collection of sunglasses and to feed your dirty fantasies.

Tom is the only person in which the words "always", meaning "never" really what they mean, and no cowardly euphemism for "quite long" and "probably not" are. I will always love him and I will never leave him. Fuck it, if I broke it the ultimate Sülzrekord.

It is as it is, says love. DC I'm going puke. I'm going puke mainly the same, because I've already tried a third time to reach Tom on the phone and he simply does not turn. He knows that I am, because the number that I use knows, but me only our mother and keeps calling until her youngest and can then enter the Great - in other words, the number never used Tom a cell phone just for my personal need for contact. A need that is now quite large. Quite large. In any case too great to think I could tolerate it, he ignored me. Or did even worse, lost the phone. Remember has to recharge the battery. Because then I would call attempts futile, hope dies last known. I press the redial button, press the phone to my ear so hard that it hurts, and important outside the window up and down. "Ran Go, go ran ran, go," I hiss at each Tuten.
"The person you have participants'
°

Tom comes back half an hour later to the hotel and walked straight to my room to ask what was going on.

"I had seven missed calls from you and wanted to call back as I, that was somehow not", he says, his hands in his pockets buried.

seven calls? But so many?
Anyway, now I take no notice of him, but to lean back in my leather chair and smoking, slow and cool as the suspected villain in the old movies when a disguised Sherlock Holmes them going with his questioning on the laces.

"I've already heard it ringing, you know, but I was, um, busy."

"but you had your hands free?" Uh, I sound so cold that it trickles down the icy myself back.

"Yes, but I was there and the phone somewhere else, so on the ground, and I can not ..."

" Stay
times just so sweet, daddy must expose `second.
If you had to really fear that the tables you usually cuts off, then I would like to hereby express my sincere condolences to you, brother. You bring shame on the family and I have to kill you, unfortunately, to restore the honor. "

" Bill, it's important is not already be it. "

" You're dead, "snorts

Tom, as he could not decide whether he irritated the gangsta or the like to play the diva whims of anxious doormat.

"Also, I've even tried then to call you," he defends himself in the tone of voice, justified by the small children playing football in the living room trying. I wanted no idea Mom, but Bill said ...

"wall" I say and press my butt on the glass table beside my chair.

"Huh?"
postcoital His eloquence is truly amazing.

"I threw the phone against the wall."

"Oh."
More than amazing.

"And now?" He asks gently.

knee down, put my foot on your neck and beg for forgiveness, what else

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Where is the genuflection?

"Really."

The sacrifice?

"Bill, you're an asshole."

we are now blasphemous, or as I may understand this?

"Why did you really call?"

Sighing, I slid into the chair so low that my butt rests precisely on the edge. Only a little further before I land and very inelegant on the carpet. I'll bounce my tailbone as well. And whose fault is it? Right, Tom.

"You was just boring because you can get involved yourself."

How that sounds.

"If you want here rumzicken only, then I can go again."

Somehow here is that in the wrong direction.

"If his Majesty to condescend to time to tell me what is up? No, His Majesty felt the childish urge to be defiant.

"I'm turning now` ne bag and you can as long as you spin out. Then we look, where to get ice, I feel like it there full of grad "

ice Mama always made when we had the summer after our war around the water hose reconciled good.
Tom is such a child. Such a big, stoned child and completely incapable of multitasking at that. When even Paris Hilton can fuck the same time and phone calls, but then he would have to fix it.


Tom's favorite variety is chocolate as the very small children. For me, he has swollen stracciatella and gummy bears, which we buried under the ice until they are rock hard and hurt us from the jaws chewing. Our Ice party is incredibly infantile and the fact that it takes place on a huge hotel bed with canopy and silk bedspread that we eat with silver spoons in crystal goblets that a pink starfish drool over a meter wide plasma screen, and that I buzz at dinner and Tom called smack, makes it even more beautiful than it already is.

"I do not like green," murmured Tom, and pushes me a smeared jelly between his lips. Who needs caviar, if you look frosted by a clumsy Tom gelatin can be beaten against the teeth?

°

George sits cross-legged in front of me and watched me suspiciously. He is afraid that his phone kisses the wallpaper when Tom is not soon to speak out, but this fear is unfounded. To bring it to the few numbers of his rare groupies, he has collected together in a tedious process would simply barbaric. But I must not tell him yes.

"It will come quickly. You were together all afternoon, he also needs some outlet, "he tried to calm me down. As if I would not know that he cares only about the delicate feelings of the electronic unit to my ear.

I'm sure that Tom is coming soon. However, not what George meant it and I would like to have.

"Besides," is at George whining, but I have no desire to be Geseiere and give him back the keys to his sexual gratification, he immediately puts in his pants pocket. Mobile phone radiation is supposed to be bad for sperm production.

°

Tom comes by 3 clock 24 back to the hotel. I know this because I lie awake in my bed staring so long at the disgusting red digital display of the hotel alarm clock was that my eyes started to tear. Now, if someone came into the room, he would probably piece together a story of an unfaithful hochmelodramatische macho and his weak, vulnerable and wounded secret lover.
The truth is that the Mädchengekicher twisted my guts on the floor in a way that will let me strangle someone.

He brought Eva, but she has such a penetrating cackling laugh. is at 3 clock 56 from the cackling a no less penetrating moan that sounds than you would get a cat's tail, and the clock 58 stops abruptly at 3. Tom is obviously enough blood flowed back into the brain in order to remind them of their secrecy. At 4
clock 09 begins the head of Tom's bed against my wall pop up and I get sick.

I Strampel away my blanket and shuffle to the bathroom, where I supported myself with two hands on the sink and admire my dark circles in the mirror. The rumblings in my stomach I slide on the ice, but the little, nasty little voice speaks to me something else. I inject cold water on his face and control myself in my bed, which happens to me all at once terribly saggy and uncomfortable. It is not the dull rhythm of my room the only sound to fill the ceiling, which bothers me. It is the knowledge that he, if he fucks her until now, have spent the previous night with their different needs. With cocktails, flirting with, do with what couple be it.

°

morning half past nine in Germany, I'm at the breakfast buffet and look crappy. I have no hunger and to blame only the cackling at our table. Tom has just poured orange juice over his cornflakes and she finds it hilarious.
"So what can you eat that!", Shrills their chickens voice over to me. "So what you can not bring with them for dinner," I growl to myself and hope that Tom choked on his cornflakes and her hat into the cutout.

"I find your lyrics so so great!" Squeaks Eve, when I finally armed with a croissant sit next to Tom. I am unfortunately too busy trying to smear my croissant with jam, as I could answer her. I find the lyrics puerile, silly and trite, but fortunately it is not mine and I have to feel so not contacted when they are praised by little girls in the sky, the crave for the attention of the great rock stars. She gets fucked by Tom, she can not be satisfied and keep me in Let rest? Shiksa millions would give anything to be in your shoes, chicken, so hold your tongue and enjoy the second.

"So I will absolutely yes to Prada," babbles Hühnereva continue steadfastly. "They've such great things."

As if they had enough taste to be able to tell.

"Hm," growled Tom.

"And to Dolce and Gabbana. I have since in such a magazine and seen a dress, a. .. "
" Um hum, "Tom.

As if they could afford it.

"But this is expensive," I say and convey my mouth a few inches up.

"Tom is going shopping with me, it bursts out of her, as if she had been waiting for the keyword. "And you know what, sweetheart, then ..."

Now I'm the one she almost spits his breakfast into the neckline. Treasure? Treasure? And why the hell not contrary to Tom, but only grumbles to himself more like a teddy bear full of wood shavings and a sound chip?

"Boy, did you last left your brain somewhere?" I hiss at him, but he just shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders.

"We should but then it started for you? Are you coming? "Eva got up and stretched a hand out to Tom. He's eighteen, girls, not eighty, he does not need help getting up.

Tom grumbles, stand up, can pay by the hand and take.

"he paid for it but now, or what?" I crush and snort a greasy croissant crumbs between your thumb and index finger.

"Why?" Asks Gustav and looks at me like a sheep.

"Hello! He buys her clothes. What is that your money other than in kind? "

" So I told my girlfriend always something given, even to wear, "says Gustav, the idiot.

"girlfriend?" I can not help it, I laugh. Tom and a friend, nor do they Teilzeithure. The joke of the century.

"I've always said that it caught him once," smirks George and steals the rest of the jam from my plate.

"Tom is not in love." On the last word I almost swallow me. Someone has to die right now, and although a slow, agonizing death, or I turn through on the spot.

"Come down," said Gustav, "you'll see a pretty even."

's enough. Cutlery clatters to the floor and my chair falls over when I jump up and lift towers. My hands shake, when I press the button, and because the doors do not immediately jump up, I trample up the stairs to my room. Cannot out of the box hanky, lighter dug out of her purse, windows, and even much now in the empty air. Women are a very last.

brothers are the very last.

Tom is the very last.

°

Tom comes back in the early afternoon, a happy chicken in tow. He announces that Eve, the last two days that we spend in this city and will stay with him at the hotel. George makes fun of the gangsta in luv "funny, Gustav wish all the best and Eva seems to be on the child's birthday to feel a fiddle. It's only a matter of time before someone suggests to play Topfschlagen. It will probably be George. He does indeed always so mature, but deep beneath its smooth straight hair has a little boy with ADD, where nothing is too stupid. Not even his "special homie" because poultry rearing, that is, first and prostitutes in the said second Spezialheimchen not sure love.

When Tom asked me if I had a problem with that, I shake my head. Of course I have a problem with that, but I also have a plan and I need to Eva. That he intends to remodel his room in a chicken coop, I will therefore only be located.

°

It is very simple. I put myself on the course, leaning against my door frame, draw his head a little between the shoulders, throwing her through my eyelashes - longer than her - a shy glance and quietly ask if I could talk to her. Eva melts on the spot and then runs after me in my room.

"Sit down," I mumble as and on my bed, only to immediately hit me a hand over her mouth and my "Oh my God thinking, please just anything wrong of me" to set up face.

"Is OK," Eva tries to me by my non-existing uncertainty to cure. Cute girl, good breeding. If their parents know what has become a bitch from the lady's daughter.

"You know," and haw around me as I am reluctant to three feet away from her sit on the bed, "I er, I would not be so bitchy this morning."

"you were not yet bitchy."

course not. I was this morning so bitchy, I'm cute now, if you know what I mean.

"Yes, I was, and I'm sorry, really. I do not want you to think I was something like a spoiled diva or something ... "

"Are not you."

all respect, they controlled timing and unctuous tone. The ideal for the role, which I will occupy with her.

"But you know, since you're somehow constantly around me, because ... I mean, it's been so long ago that I was the last time was in love ... "

overcome me and I pluck at my nail polish. This still my cutest squint through my darkest raven tresses, et voila, her cheeks glowing. Bill Kaulitz has made another happy chicken, it is asked for applause.

From now on everything is a snap. Is only about two minutes later she sits on a half- my lap and I feel her warm moist breath on my neck on my nerves. It is also quite heavy, my left leg is numb. The only positive aspect of their position is that they kiss me first, not without dislocate the cervical vertebrae and I can dribble it my second caramelized lies romantically directly into the ear.
She sucks my instructions into itself, as if they were declarations of love. It is important that they are everything that I used her withered little heart from the grass, bring as much internalized that she believes in the end, it would have been their own ideas.

you will leave my arms as the perfect puppet, so perfect that I sit back and can see how she pulls her own strings.

~ ° ~

Eva sucks. Nothing unusual, because she is a woman.

"treasure", it shrieks from the bathroom. When she finally learned to paint in silence as Bill?

"What?"
shit, wrong tone. Hopefully,

"Are you mad at me anyway?"

"No." Damn.

"but you sound like that."

Probably because I had lied. Is only an idea.

"I will not argue with me you."

Then shut up. Mouth, no hassle. No communication is as simple as that traffic jams, no verbal accidents, just beautiful flowing traffic.
The highest level of civilization, the bonobos, and if I ever will be Chancellor, I assert that we finally cut us a slice with them.

"You tell me what's wrong, honey?"

best two discs. And when I've actually given her permission for that sucked out pet names? Since it does not fit once, and you tear down the womenfolk in the most impossible bad habits.

"is not." Pause. "Babe."

I lie on my bed and think me through an almost closed door with a woman. I cater to their Emotionsspirenzchen - with the ultimate goal to put her on the cross, for I have done long ago. Multiple. So much so it's already come with me. When it comes to me keep it down, I'll have to ask the guys a summary executions.

sits just next door and Bill probably laughing his ass off on the action at yesterday's breakfast. Humiliated in front of his own little brother - which I've earned that, please? Fortuna is about jealous that Eve gets worried it better than they?

"What are you thinking?"

Fortuna, sweetie, give yourself and call me a jerk. I are organizing a nice jacuzzi and a bit of champagne and then we will take your problem addressed. It can not be acceptable that leaves out your frustration you relapses of innocent eighteen year olds.

"Tommi treasure, come on."

OK, that's it, Evimausi. Once you have swung your butt out of the bathroom, you'll pack up your things and you piss off and never seen again. I can make me long enough before Bill and the world from you to the monkey.

"Nothing."

"You do not think about 'nothing' to. Say it. "

I was no trouble, my unkindly Moan to suppress. Should she noted calmly as I find them annoying, anyway it is already as good as the hotel.

"Bill," I reply finally have to put an end to their drilling.

"Why do you think of Bill?"

Because? On what to think otherwise - my perpetual and deep love for them? I am a man, I think of fucking, eating, sleeping, playing guitar and Bill. That it should be obvious.

"do not know."

"Do you even think of me?"

sky one, I jump out the window.

"Maybe" I grumble and rummage through my pockets for my lighter.

Bill and I would never smoke. Previously, we found it disgusting, tastes just like the smell, and even if we would have liked cigarettes have, our principles forbid us, looking at her with something other than a derogatory view. Over time, however, we found that butts are self-confidence in stem form and thus necessary for survival for underage pop stars.

One feels grown up, you know what to do with his hands, you will be nervous stomach tingling going on and can it be boring bus rides while away the time talking about the small-minded Sauber men move here for Bravo, retouch all cigarettes before they pop their lurid titles over the pictures.

To be honest, when Bravo reporter bounce around us, we smoke very much. Above all, Bill will always a butt between his fingers and when he no longer has to block the Qualmerei, he plays with her, she puts in behind the ear or dissecting them with his long fingernails.

A reporter who once had the audacity to tell him that he should pack away the cigarette. The Bill has also done, and instead give a lollipop leave. The reporter had ten minutes later desperately for little boys and has for the rest of the day Sweats get when Bill has seen him only three seconds. I need not mention that Bill have eyes glued to him, right? Adult overthrow guys in an identity crisis is Bill's favorite sport and should never be an Olympic sport, it is certainly the gold medal.

The bathroom door stuck with a dull sound at the zusammengeknäulten T-shirt that is carelessly on the floor. Eva snaps annoyed with his tongue and pushes through the gap in my view. She wears a red satin bra and no panties. Anyway since I'm still too pissed off by it, to see her face, I stare right between her legs and she notes it laughs, and continues with two fingers painted over it.

I Stakeout it would. But first I'll fuck her one last time.

"String or Panties?" Wants to know Eva and bends down to her bag.

I roll my eyes and roll me off the bed. "And you ask 'nen Kerl."

"Yeah," she giggles at a pitch that should be banned. Tommi Schatzi has his ear drum that is very sweet doll.

I put on a second cigarette, and I see her here as a black Nothing attracts a thong, her jeans mini and a tank top.

"I like it?" she asked, turning in circles.

"Yes." Fuckable. Otherwise they would be unlikely here.

"You know you have to spend the day alone today?" I assure me, and she nods.
The Gs and I have to do a sound check for an interview is Bill with any major magazine in the program. I forget the name usually five seconds after Bill has communicated them to me, but he is not me so angry. He knows that I'm interested in his solo projects and he does not know that I accept them anyway.

Gustav, Georg, Bill and I, we all live from Tokio Hotel. But while the Gs and I just something different, something Normal would do if it were not for Tokio Hotel, Bill would be damn close to an alternative psychosis. He needs the cameras just as he hates, he needs the indiscreet questions, and he needs the unconditional admiration, will be seen with him. Bill reads his fan mail long gone, but if he does not get so many boxes per day, he does not feel loved, and his humor falls into the flooding basement. Bill needs more than Tokio Hotel. He needs a support in the event that break the stage boards on which he is now, because, unlike for the Gs and me there is no going back for him.

"Until tonight, honey?"

"Jap." I express the cigarette, kissing her with all the cold smoke in my mouth and get out of the hotel corridor.

°

Eva Kiekens and I screw up his eyes, ignore it for the last time your skin is velvety and hot, and she trembles a tiny, when I pull the top over your head and go down their sides.
"Tom," she sighs, while I sink my teeth under her collar bone and lost her hand on my bottom, under my trousers, and walk forward until my belt buckle.
"Tom," she gasped, as I push her skirt up and two fingers in her hot corner. She is wet, she smiles as if to apologize, it opens my belt and my pants slipped down with a dry rustle of my legs.
"Tom," she moans when I get out of denim, one arm looped around her and lifted onto the table behind her. It drops to the shiny plate and watched through half-closed eyelids, as I draw small circles with my thumb on her pearl.

I mist my lips, wipe my hand on the inside of her thigh and kiss her there, where sluts as they like. She pressed her pelvis against her back and through, she writhes and shakes, but she did not deflected enough off than it would not look to me suddenly.

"Say," I nuschle and squint on her belly across and between her breasts and onto her flushed face, "is really where your string?"

"Have you taken off me?" She smiles.

"can I kidding myself," I growl and sit up. She squeals to disappointed but not ashamed to continue with legs spread wide before me loll.

"You had this morning at you and not now. Where is the point? "

Eva pulls a pout and an arm stretched out to me. It depends the air like a dead animal.

"It's not important," she sighs and pushes her heels against my ass.

"Where?"

"In my bag, okay?" She spits back and draw on his elbows while I herumwirble and the content of their ugly, pink handbag on the bed empty. I feel sick.

makeup, roll on the sheet, a brush, her cell phone and finally her panties. I lifted him up with two pointed fingers and keep checking him into the light, but that does not actually need to know to be able, in what state he is intolerable.

"Who" is the only thing that I bring out with great difficulty. Someone in my brain just turned off the light.

"Tom, there are plenty of guys who are better off now than you are not reg on and come back."

"Who?" I shout, I so loud that they are a frightened whimper from him.

"Tom," she purrs but not two seconds later.

I turn to her and threw her the glued string in the face.

"You have me say at once, with fuckers what you deceived me, or I'll turn your fucking neck around," I hiss and make a step toward her.

She puts on the legs, but does not stop grinning. "Tom," she coos. "Honey. As if we were together. "

What's all the shit now? She pushes around with another, while I work, and says she could then also still play any games with me?

know "you, so good you're not real. To be honest, the last time were pretty boring. "

" It sounded just been different. "

She clicked her tongue theatrically. "Oh yes, Tom, oh God, fuck me, yes, faster," she sighs flachatmig and reminds me of this nasty yesterday Evening. "Ever heard of orgasm-faking, sweetie?"

My mouth is fine, but it comes out no sound.

"You know what?" She says and jumps off the table. "I'm tired of so much effort for so fucking mediocre. It was quite nice to have sometimes had NEN `pop star, but eventually loses all its charm. Impact at the next just to the Kama Sutra, with technology should really make up a lot. Maybe it helps. "

She pushes her things back in their pocket while I stand as rooted in my underwear next to the bed and try to poison me to return the favor. I just can not. My throat is constricted, dried out my lips, my eloquence has otherwise adopted where.

With a girl I never made final. Not without that I would not have written to them. Never.

"So thank you for the time and stuff. Was indeed at times quite nice, especially with the other guys. We can even call again, or something. "

The door falls with a loud clunk in the lock and I am alone. Alone, half naked and stiff.

Eve string lying on the carpet in front of the table and laughs at me shrill and scornful. I stare at him as if I could it with my eyes in flames Let it rise, but instead, my vision blurred and I have to blink away the Wuttränen and the teeth bite together, not to scream.

Only tables. It was just a cheap little bitch who has just sacked me who stole my text. I do not cry and I cry not only right, because I left for anything else than they would hate, as disgust, but disgust.

I spit on the floor, also to get rid of their foul taste mold and slip awkwardly in my baggies. I need Bill, right now.

°

Eva comes to meet me in the hallway. She howls with rage like a hysterical toddler.
"asshole!" she screams when she sees me. What idiot has now given to the woman again drugs?

"asshole!" Her voice fluctuates between prosecution and tränenersticktem croak, it varies even on her high heels on which she could never go nor particularly elegant. It stalks like a bird. A disheveled, swollen from crying, hysterical bird.

a moment I feared that they zustolpert on me to give me a scrub, but apparently they just want me to pass the elevator.

"I hate you!" She howls, before she pierces with their plastic claws on the elevator buttons.

you?

Oh no.

Oh no, no.

With two steps, I'm knocking against Bills door, she tore me and see my little brother over, as the personification of the superlative of complacency on the window sill and smokes declines. He cocks his head, pulls both eyebrows up and washed out from the open window behind him.

"Well?" He asks, biting his tongue piercing.

I take a step forward, closing the door behind me and lean against it.

"You fucked her," it stumbles out of my mouth and I have to laugh. Yes, I am relieved.

Bill snorts and pulls on his Marlboro. "Nope."

"Come on, not a thing."

"Tom," he said slowly, expressed with the toes up so that he sits on the marble board, and dangling his legs. He chuckles, his gaze in apparently aimlessly around the room and fixed me then. His grin disappears instantly.
"No," he says coldly.

"Bill, that's ridiculous. I'm not upset because of you. "

I'm really not. If Bill does something, then it's almost like I would do it themselves. Finally, we are twins and

"Tom! No, no and no. So what do I plug in my cock not pure. "

" Oh, "I clear my throat. My throat is bone dry at once. "Why ... then why do they call you an asshole? "

" Hm? "
innocence view par excellence. He conceals something, I know.

"Oh, she has a crush on me and tell me was that it had made final with you in order to be with me. I told her that she is a guy to look in their weight class and it kicked out when she meant, she would cry myself fully. "

" Bill, she popped another one. Tell me any story, "

"She did what?" He laughs, throws back her head and laughs. "Oh Tom, it makes your pride a Ouch, huh?" A Schnute pulling it drops down from the window sill, come to me and pulls me a hug.

"Come here, my poor man," he murmurs, stroking over my back.

I stand stock-still, do not hug him back. I can feel how he smiles, I see the malicious train around his mouth before my mind's eye, I know that it was him. What has always made it, something he has done. It's his fault.

"You ass," I hiss.

sh, makes and he pressed his chest against mine.

"You ass," I repeat, louder, more cutting. He clings to me like a monkey, his face buried in my shoulder and suddenly I feel something wet on my neck.

"You ass!" Whine, I push him from me and set button frantically the place that he has just kissed yet. He staggers back, his smile is nothing left. Instead, his features distorted as that of a small child who mounts a heart-rending cry. He gasps, opens and closes the mouth shine like a fish and his eyes watery. Before I yell at him

and can it make to sow, that he made fun of the joy so deal with my goddamn ego, he is already back at me, grabs me by the shoulders and ejects me with such a force to the rear, that I stumble and fall. I get the collar of his T-shirts to take with him and tear, roll over him and blind'll beat on him. He struggles, kicks, curses, we passed around and beats my head against the floor, the muffled bang echoed for several seconds in my head. The air is burning, burning my ribs, my anger still burns a lot more and burn just as Bill. He is my twin, is not it a winner and we share in, plug in, moaning and struggling for breath, my mouth to his place and he bites my bottom lip. We taste blood when we kiss, hard and rough. He rubs against my leg, groans and pushes himself at once with all his weight on me. His nose, he pressed into the hollow of my collarbone and his chest rises and falls sharply.

"You belong to me," he whimpers and clings in my dreads. "You belong to me, you're mine, you belong to me."

It's hard, it hurts me, but I let him have his way, solve only his right hand from my hair and intertwine his fingers with mine.

"Only You", I whisper and the trembling in his body slowly dried up. I was so blind.

"She means nothing to me," I murmur, stroking his back, his neck, his wet cheek. It sounds Fucked, cut like a dime novel. Not good enough for him, but I can not do better.

"You are not gone to your mobile phone," he sniffs against my neck flexion.

"I have today made final if it had not anticipated me."

"She called you sweetheart." He speaks from the pet name, as if he cut his tongue.

"Bill."

"You were away with it. You soon "

" Bill, I'm suffocating. "

" Oh. "

He pushed himself up and sits down on his heels. "Thanks," I nuschle, take a deep breath and sit on as well. Bill's eyes are red and swollen, his make-up is him running into black streaks on the cheeks. He looks terrible.

"I ... It was laziness, Bill. I did not feel everything, every night I inflict the same stress and it was easy to stall. I never wanted a relationship with her, or something. I wanted to fuck me without first talking to your mouth for hours fusslig. That's all. "

Bill swallowed and travels themselves with the back of the nose. He shifts his weight from one heel to the other and back again.

"It does you no harm, eh?", I ask.

He proposes the eyes to the ground and mutters: "Scheißweh, Tom scheißweh."

"Why did you say anything?"

He shrugs his shoulders.

"Your pride had Ouch."

He hits his piercing against his teeth, I can hear it rattling. Breathe deeply.

"Listen to me, you ass - because that thou art I, Tom Kaulitz, love you, Bill Kaulitz, so as usual at all nothing in the world and elsewhere. If I could marry you, I'd do it immediately, because you're the only person with whom I would never regret it for sure.
But I have a dick, Bill, and needs attention. Female attention. I must go out and slow in putting away wives, without austickst that you want. Otherwise I can not. I belong to you and I would never go back up and put someone else over you, but I can not be faithful. Bill, I-"

" All clear, "he interrupts me and smiles shyly.

I sigh relief and rest my forehead against his. "You're damn hard."

"You love me," he chuckles softly.

And how.









Superbia Luxuria


Ira Gula


Avaritia

Invidia

Acedia