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?









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