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Tokyo BGs. Bushido - After Show Party [The injury] - P18 - BillxTom - (Oneshot)

Title: Tokyo BG feat. Bushido - After Show Party [The injury]
Author: unspoiled
characters: Bill, Tom, Bushido
Rating: P18
Warnings / Genre: Lemon & Language / Revenge is sweet
Summary: " after-show party, I go out and fuck with Bill ... Oh really?
Disclaimer: K. The men are themselves





He would have known. He would have to be suspicious, as with the Bill presented a Comet Embrace was thanked, as were his great tones has never been about his fantasies with him. Bill had three years and worked more than three months since he had met him for the last time, and he looked stunning.


It was a PR stunt from the start. He was taken to the nerves that casted children more and more enthusiastic than he had fans that they spewed by calculating producers with more songs than he deserved, he wrote his lyrics are still themselves. If they rake in with their shit for so much money could he also wanted a piece of the pie, after all, he had also been under contract at Universal.

to diss Tom would have been easy just pathetic. Tom was a little boy in clothes too large, which had opened in his life, not even probably 25 condoms if his mother allowed him such a toy at all. A Wannabe, the mediocre playing guitar in a band whose genre he never even heard of and probably would have started crying when Bush said he would kindly like his girly pony tail and his coat of excuses baggies were. No, Tom was dissing the kindergarten level of Luschen like Peter One.

The perfect sacrifice for Bush, however, was Bill. It seemed the only one of the four circus monkeys at least in rudimentary form of to have something like a brain and was in fact feminine enough that you had to screw up your eyes and just ignore his flat chest to get him to introduce himself to tables.

Bill had his public overtures "very nice" and found Bush had roared with laughter when he saw the interview. This small, silly Tucker. He was really wet behind the ears and Jost caused obvious that his charges were pretty clueless and naive.

nice Ganz. Not even the idiots from the train riders were "very nice".

He should have known. He would laugh unsafe Bills even then have to expose, but he was too embarrassed fool been in his scornful triumph.

He should have known, as Bill herübergeschlendert at the after show party for him and was like the snake had wrapped the tree of knowledge in the conversation between him and XY, and XY had to welcome a friend and he and Bill alone. He should have seen the twinkle in Bill's eyes, the stealth behind his innocent expression and he would never, never be able to invite for a drink, as Bill had been infected before his eyes, a cigarette and sucked on her hollow cheeks.

He should have known that it was a mistake to do a blowjob from a man who was so androgynous that his family lost all meaning. Bill looked like a woman, a very large, but as a woman. Bush liked women. Women with full, soft lips, which were joined to cigarettes carefully and quietly sighed, when she blew the smoke toward the ceiling.

He should have known that it was indirect suicide of his heterosexuality, is related to a man comes close, which disgusted him like any other warm brothers, because he secretly LTTE as a woman.

He should have known that he had with this assessment, located dozens of miles away, as Bill's tongue over the sugar rim of his glass was dancing.

He had, he would, he would. He had not.

He had not fled when he caught it as he drove his lips, when Bill did it, he had remained as his pants were close, he had Bill's voice, which after a few minutes speak slowly became scratchy and not be distracted and he was followed Bill especially as he had apologized with a smile just once.

On the toilet had adorned the Bill, had gone to him and Bush had felt confirmed in his classification of Bill as a girl only.
"Not here," Bill hissed and had him with a view considered that only one had put it so requests.

He had fallen upon him, it would have been dragged into a car and taken, after he had craved during Bill's boring lectures all the time, but it was Bill, whom he had before him, an innocent teen star, and not a cheap groupie for even then no one would have interest if it had not even returned from the toilet.

Instead, he had convinced a calming effect on Bill, whispering romantic shit and he would not have glorified twinkle in Bill's eyes may be understood as an emotion, he would - but for self-reproach it was too late.

was a fact that he is from Bill and had to his hotel room can take as a cuddly toy from the stage, that Bill had it towed to his bed that he was smiling at the pillow had dropped and had to have occurred infinitely cool, clicked when suddenly his arms handcuffed and shackled to the bed frame.

"I thought you like it the hard way," Bill growled and looked at with raised eyebrows, his frightened face. No, grazed , he gloated over his face and Bush had seemed to be used before the door opened and Tom came into the room. The locked the door, placed himself behind his And brother greeted him formally. "Hey yo, homie."

Bill laughed and the sand box rappers put a hand with fingers spread wide on his belly, he drew her to him and peered through his dark streaks on Bushido's helplessness. He got rid of his braces Bill without squinting just bared down and bills flat, defined stomach.

"Already hot, the little one," he growled in a tone in which Bush would not have been surprised if he had missed his next a kick in the balls.

Bill was inspired by Tom off the turtleneck and Bush presented his lean, muscular Upper body from all sides, as he pushed to ease a heavy chair in front of the bed. He turned to Bush and let his lashes flutter like an hour before the crowd of party, while Tom FLAKT himself in the chair and his hands carelessly over Bill's hips and buttocks sent on tour.

"ass," he explained to Bush and Bill missed a slap on it. Bill did not even flinch.

"What did you want again from my brother?" Tom asked in a husky voice, the forehead wrinkles and steered Bill moved in next to him on the back.

"Did you touch him?" He whispered and scratched with his short Fingernails over Bills step. Bill stared at him through his long eyelashes, motionless.

"Yes or No?" Added Tom, as Bush did not answer, and silently cursed.

"No," he croaked, although he "Yes," said Tom stroked although an upper body that was clearly male. Bill was not a woman, he was not even frail, he had muscles in all the places where a man should have muscles and they were distinguished clearly from under his pale skin.

"Rumlecken?" He blew a kiss to Bill's navel.

"No." A pitiful groan. A bare Lie.

"Fucking?"

"..." shortness of breath. Where he had landed here only? The absurdity of the world was at one time? him someone had thrown something into the glass? What happened so do not always women?

"Anis," whispered Bill, while Tom followed suit his jaw in awe with his index finger.

"Hmws?" Senior Bush off. The air was heavy and stifling Bills look burned through his dilated pupils directly in his retina. This was a child who nailed him there with his eyes. This was a guy rolling around his name in his mouth like a delicious candy. This was not a stand in his pants.

"Anis, will you fuck me? "whispered further Bill, the tremor that ran through the fingertips of his brother, not paying attention. "Have you imagined how close I am?"

Viagra. The little bitch had poisoned him with Viagra. An erection in such a short time without having had even handled it was not normal.

"Will you? Or do you want to be fucked by me? Hm, anise, when did you get it for the last time really worried? "

Bush threw his head back and threw up in curses, which he did not understand.

"Do not worry," Bill murmured and coughed. Bush glanced at him without his head to rotate. Tom sat there wide-legged than before, but was gone half the upper body behind Bill's back. His baseball cap he had thrown carelessly on the carpet. If they stood between him and his brother, Tom also knew his beloved hats no mercy.
with the thumb, he drove up Bills spine and kissed each vertebra, which he could feel for. The perfume, the Bill was carried, "Pure Poison by Dior and the heavy scent, worthy of every femme fatale, with the fragrance of Bill's soft skin to perfection, leaving its interior and in hot melt trickles into every fiber of his body . dribble He could
Bushido rattling breathing , Hear and feel Bill's gentle smile and taste the mole between his shoulder blades.

"Do not worry," Bill whispered so quietly that Bush had him read from his shiny lips glos. "Something like you I touch anything, anise. I want to get anything you understand? "

Bush nodded mechanically, and could also not stop it then, as was reached by all the glitter and hoarse whisper the real message of Bill's words in his brain. He was on drugs - pills or singers who played the role at all?

"What would you think if I my sweet, Take baby brother here? "

His neck froze instantly, and Bush turned and twisted his neck like a helpless turtle to get rid of the feeling that his head could break at any moment from his shoulders.

Bill nibbled thoughtfully on his little finger and studied the stucco rosette around the chandelier, while Tom had escaped with his question a sigh and he had his hot face pressed on Bill Cross. It made him mad and he to his cooking cheeks would not have to solve it, Tom would kneel on the spot before its twin. Not to kiss Bill and between the legs, but only to the square take, the Bills appeared to him in the presence of the only correct one. Bill would not use it as a footstool, which he did.

"Not good?" Bill smiled unctuous. "Believe me, he has made already. Contrary to your hard Memmenverein he draws something other men not the tail, and was a fear biter. But what I'm talking about actually, you're yourself from the other side. Bad if you can not admit it, because otherwise even Mom would not be proud of a, uh, anise?

Bush clenched his fists and shook his bonds, which immediately cut painfully into his joints.

"Real" said Bill. "Not so Plüschkram that you use for your Biatches. Get you where ever you have a high or simply think of me? "

Toms warm breath against his shoulder was getting flatter. He let his hand fall from his mouth and felt for Tom T-shirt, until he met with the velvety material resistance and heat and could feel Tom's pet calm. Patience was not one of Tom's strengths.

"So, anise? If you hope that I will let Tom about it, I must disappoint you by the way. But your mama gave you so sure explains how it is with prejudice and that it is not on first impressions must go. "

drugs. Viagra. No stand. Bill. Bushido's face behind organized mind, reason, and a rush of scraps of Pogo. He wanted to get away from here, away from this lust-soaked eyes, hand on hip, Bill, who was not his, by his own noisy struggle for air and control of the situation, and especially his body.

"Tom, what he wanted from me?" Bill turned to his brother.

Tom resisted the urge to kiss him to his sweet smile from her face and cleared his throat before he put a hand in Bill's neck, rubbed the tattoo and pulled him from the rest. Bushido, the lungs, that hardly Under Bill's firm view is no longer scorched, suddenly filled with oxygen, crack disbelief at the sight, as Bill between Toms legs kneeling, his arms placed on his thighs, the T-shirt up and pushed gently along Toms belt unfastened, almost like as if he could make something broken.

Tom sighed in anticipation of what would come moistened his lips and hooked his views with Bush. Unlike in Bill's eyes blazed in his pupil undisguised disgust. Under other circumstances he would have the wanker, who believed that his frustrations romp to his twin to have to throw up nonchalantly at his feet and let him wipe up the mess with a tissue. Tom would have forced him to blunt a razor blade to cut the eggs, he would have stuffed his mouth with his tail, he would have done a hundred things, for the "heinous" was just a kind word to.

But Bill had willed otherwise. Bill had so willed it that he calmed Toms pulsating anger with flying fingers, while Tom took over the task of counting the beads of sweat on Bushido's forehead.

"It's beautiful, is not it?" Tom whispered and stroked the head of his brother. Bush nodded, unable to say a word, unable to stir, even the little finger.

"Did you anyone ever played with a tongue piercing one?" Asked Tom. He twirled a black streak around his middle finger and pretended he was not aware of the gesture. His head was hot from the alcohol, his lap was by Bill's breath warmed his heart and burned. He had the feeling that they have the same burst with love, as Bill kissed him and left a shiny Lipglossabdruck on the thin fabric of his boxer shorts.

"What is it you like him?" Swallowed

Bush and watched breathlessly as behavioral Tom groaned and closed his eyes for a moment, no sooner had he pronounced the question.

"You can not imagine how soft his lips. pack up your hookers can. "

Bush swallowed again, but the pressure on his throat did not disappear, nor the pressure in his pants. It began to be uncomfortable, so hard he was.

"If you" - Tom called hissing air a - "at last rausrückst with the language, I tell you how cool his tongue."

"I uh, cleared his throat Bushido, but it sounded more like a scraping bark as a human sound.

"You what?" Gasped Tom.

Bush did not say anything, he was quiet as a mouse be and try to spot the faint smacking that he thought he heard in Toms heavy breaths. There, there was the innocent sound that was even with air kisses, only that it had to overcome in this case, certainly no air distance. Bush managed to overcome his paralysis so far that he twisted his head a little and was trying to see what Bill did just now. Licking, kissing, nibbling - Bill's hair covered him like a black waterfall of vision. What ever he made straight for the shiny film on the front of his twin, Bill, it seemed, judging by the noises are mainly to do with a: pleasure.

Bushido Guts knotted up and his tail twitching, painful, tense, and angry that this little would-be Hopper himself because of his bitch of a twin one abstöhnte while he was condemned to immovable to lie there and watch him as he buried his character in the strands who had never touched a few hours before his face.

He did not care that he was just in the gay situation most of his life. He did not care that he could finally forget to tell himself, his Partying before the muted TV was just a continuation of the private PR-assurance and also the pressure-increasing sequence and liberating solution the lack of American offerings. Since his confession of love he ran behind Tokio Hotel fans in droves and shooed his wives who had no desire to screaming Heulbojen. He had not, much less had he the mood for a charge of seduction of minors.
That was Tom's level. Should calm the fuck children and save themselves from his management his sweet ass, can Bush be kept meticulously clean criminal record scale. You could do everything as a gangster, really everything, only that an evil word to the judge should never put in the mouth of sexual offense.
children who presented flat or spread the legs of a woman instead of with money and alcohol to violence, was in the jail Bücker soap. And it was just a taste of what awaited him when he came out again.
No, something was Tom's level and, unlike him, had the ridiculous small-to-be Playboy an entire staff of professionals behind him, which caused always and everywhere for that blooms inside his vest stopped. had noticed

"I think it also sucks up," growled Tom, the Bushido distant look. He hated it when he does not attract the attention of his environment was as perfect as his twin, but he never would have thought, therefore, to be jealous of Bill. It was the fault of others, it was Bushido's guilt.

"Look at me, you wanker! "

Bush blinked. He confessed to not like to, but Tom sounded male, as if he ever thought possible. His voice dripping with testosterone, and almost before the reason for this could be just Bill, whose head is now in a speed up and down, the Bushido was dizzy.

"Hey!" Tom barked at him and let his head roll in the neck and groaned when Bush finally obeyed his command and tore his gaze from the reflections in Bill's hair.

"God," sighed Tom throaty and entitled to the image that he offered his audience more than apt.
Bush cursed himself for the third Time that evening, but it did not help. Tom's neck described a perfect arc, a shiny film of sweat covered the caramel-colored skin of his bare throat, his Adam's apple bounced uncontrollably. He clutched with one hand in the leather of the seats, the other had it buried deep in the flowing smooth strands of his brother, the occasional drag receipted with a protesting growl, but again, not only Tom's tail, but his whole body, his whole His most delicate in the vibrations replied that one could imagine.

"Just because he is his twin," Bush managed it just for cooking in his brain an apology to formulate the throbbing between his legs, but at heart he knew that it was a brazen lie. Toms Dreads crawled like strange growths on his slender shoulders, his shirt stuck to his upper body and his closed eyelids fluttered. He did not have sex, it was sex, an allegory of the moaning ecstasy.

And the artist crouched between his trembling thighs like a wild beast that greedily devouring its prey before it could make him someone in dispute. Bill liked Tom's tail more than his own and that was the biggest compliment he could make another man. Of course, he resembled Tom and even down around like peas in a pod, But no Tom was hanging on his tail, and that was what made the biggest piece of his brother the best piece ever. to lick the bitter drops of Tom's head was sweeter than any he could get his Piercing Blowjob and dance with a devotion that knows only jealous love.

Bushido howled with rage and impotence and got out but no sound. The throbbing in his tail had become a merciless beating and the blood roared in his ears, but without him to flood with endorphins, which roared through the bodies of the twins. His shoulder joints ached from the unnatural posture, his neck was numb, he hated the world. He hated Tokyo hotel, he hated Tom and most of all he hated Bill. Nevertheless, he had sold his soul to the place where Bill would be passed over for his lap on his knees. He hated himself

Bill hummed and Tom choked as he gasped for air. Bushido's presence is no longer interested him, he would offer him no show and he was ashamed not to let themselves go before his stabbing looking so. He was blind to everything around him, deaf to every sound except the amelodischen chant - chant? The symphony! - Between his legs that he could not possibly spread far enough. Like a wax figure, he melted into the upholstery, breathed, lived and came.

Bill got up and crept slowly lay on the bed, on the Bushido. He smiled, his eyebrows drawn up a little when he would ask Bush to mute his opinion about the performance. And Bush nodded, because he seemed the only right thing, and concentrated on not whimper, as if he could feel the mattress sinks left and right side of its head under the weight of Bill's arms.
Bills chapped lips moved like the forbidden fruit of his sweaty face, burning in the folds of the salt, and he slowly came closer to Bush felt the eyes closed and a pair of silky lips on his.
Bill kissed him. His heart stopped, all blood Schanz's not nearly to bursting brought flowed in a mighty torrent in its midst, and he opened willing, willing his lips. Bill's tongue hit with an electrifying impact on his and his mouth suddenly filled with a tough, bitter liquid. Bush choked, spat, and Bill stared with wide-opened eyes when he saw his tongue could taste which wither.

Bill had again raised up and grinned down at him before he lippenleckend the last remnants of Tom swallowed seeds. For a moment he toyed with the idea of getting rid of his own erection in a manner that Bush would have fallen much less, but then he came to the conclusion that the satisfaction offered him Bushido's distorted features, this evening could not be surpassed.

He broke a hand clamp off the bed post, held them, and bent down again. Bush narrowed his eyes as he expected to be spat, and turned his head away. Bill's warm breath touched his neck, crawled into his ear.

"Consider yourself as fucked Gangster."