MMOM 2 - Idol Worship, Georg/Bill, NC17/18
Title: MMOM 2 - Idol Worship
Author: Beren
Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Pairing: Georg/Bill
Rating: NC17/18
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, the real people in it are used without their permission and I definitely don't own them or have any copyright to any part of any of them. I do not believe any of this happened, is likely to happen or should happen it is simply a story created around known facts about those involved.
Warnings: wanking
Summary: Georg's been hiding something for a while and occasionally he needs relief, so he indulges himself in private.
Author's Notes: This is from a prompt from meridian_star who asked for "Georg getting off from posters of Bill". Thanks to Soph for the beta.
Word count: 2,670
Link: Other MMOM fic
Georg locked his door using the latch to make sure no one could get in even with the spare key security always had. It was very important no one could interrupt what he was about to do because if anyone found out there would be hell to pay. He had a secret vice and he was almost sure that if any of the others knew what it was it would wreck the band; either that or be wonderful, but he couldn't take the risk.
His vice was not drugs or excessive alcohol, it was far more personal. Walking over to the bed, he opened his case and calmly unfastened the lining to reach underneath and pull out a small stack of folded papers. Some of the papers in the pile were old and looking worn around the edges, others were much newer, but he knew each by heart. He placed them carefully on the bed and then stepped back slightly.
It was almost a ritual now after years of refinement. A ritual to worship what he knew he could never have. Slowly, starting with his t-shirt, he began to remove his clothes. He took everything off, all his clothes, his underwear, even the one piece of jewellery he was wearing, until he was as naked as the day he had been born. His cock was already twitching with interest, but he was not about to touch it, not yet.
Stepping back to the bed, he picked up the first of the folded pieces of paper and gently opened it up. He placed it at its proper place towards the top of the bed and then he reached for the next one. They were not stored in any particular order, but he knew how to put them on a bed of just about any size so they were spread out and ordered correctly. When he was finished he had a patch work, a patch work of Bill from their earliest time in the spotlight at the top left to a poster from the latest magazine that fans were flocking to buy in the shops that very week at the bottom right.
Just in front of him there was a gap in the patchwork, a gap big enough for him to kneel in, which he did, careful not to dislodge any of the posters he had arranged.
It had been so long that he had forgotten what it was like not to want Bill. One day Bill had gone from the sweet kid who sang their songs to the sweet kid he found himself desperately wanting, who had slowly morphed into the passionate young man that made Georg ache every time he looked at him.
He did not often allow himself this indulgence. He was terrified that one day he would slip and forget to pretend to be just a friend, so he only let himself indulge this way when he couldn't bear it anymore. He literally found Bill intoxicating and he let himself sink into the delirium knowing that for a little while he was safe.
Bill surrounded him on all sides and he took in the beauty he could see as he slowly brought his hand down to rub gently over his balls. There was something not quite mortal about Bill, especially in photographs and Georg drank it all in with his eyes. He would have given anything that was his to give to be able to kiss Bill just once and he moved his finger up over his hard length as he tried to grasp the fleeting idea of what that would be like.
He had seen Bill kiss a girl and he remembered all too clearly thinking that Bill was a truly gentle soul. If anyone ever hurt Bill, Tom would be first in line to hurt them back, but Georg would be a very close second. Their lead singer was a poet with a romantic outlook on the world and Georg wished he could be the one to stand between Bill and any chance of the shattering of illusions. He had never felt quite like this about anyone ever before, which was how he knew he was truly lost.
Beginning to move his hands in slow even strokes, he sank even deeper into his mind, using the familiar images in front of him as a meditative aid more than anything else. He knew this was wrong, lusting after his friend was just not right, but he needed release or he was going to explode at the wrong time and place. When he was like this he thought he understood what some of the fans felt when they screamed and cried and fainted; this was his only outlet and he needed it to not be like them.
When he allowed himself to indulge, he liked to take it slowly and he worked himself gently, edging on his excitement only little by little. He was hard and he could feel his pulse thudding through his body to his groin, but when he was like this he could hold himself on the edge for hours.
A knock on the door startled him out of his trance like state and he looked round.
"Georg?"
It was Bill's voice and he almost panicked. Out of everyone it could have been it had to be Bill.
"Georg are you in there?"
If it had been anyone else, he would have stayed silent, but after what he had been doing it seemed almost sacrilegious not to reply.
"Yes," he replied, just loud enough to be heard.
"Are you busy?" Bill asked through the door. "Tom and Gustav have headed out and I didn't fancy clubbing, but I'm kind of bored. If you're busy I can just go."
That was one of the things he loved about Bill; no matter how much the press hyped up their lead singer, Bill never took his friends for granted.
"No," Georg called back, he knew all too well what it was like to sit in a hotel room on your own and he wasn't going to put that on Bill, "just wait a sec."
He hurriedly grabbed everything, rapidly folding all of the posters and, throwing them in his case, which he in turn put on the floor. Then he took his clothes and threw them on a chair before grabbing a hotel robe and throwing it on. After this he hurried to the door and opened it.
"Sorry," he apologised, letting Bill in, "I was about to jump in the shower. I won't be too long; you can watch TV or something."
Bill grinned at that, obviously pleased.
"Thanks," Bill said, grabbing the remote from the side and sitting demurely on the bed.
"I haven't checked the mini-bar yet," Georg said, realising that the room smelled of sex and praying that Bill wouldn't notice, "save me some vodka if there's any in there."
Then he disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower. At least he could wash away any evidence of what he had been doing before he went back out to watch TV with Bill. Somehow he had to get back into friend mode before he stepped out of the room and back into the other one. It took him almost all of the fifteen minute shower to calm himself down and he did his best to push any thoughts about Bill as anything but his band mate out of his head.
He finally walked back into the other room calm and ready for an evening of making fun of the hotel TV. The TV was on, but Bill was not sitting on the bed where he expected his friend to be. Bill was kneeling on the floor next to his case, holding a small poster of himself. Bill looked up at him with a confused little frown.
"It popped open," Bill said as if a little embarrassed to have been caught. "I saw these fall out."
Bill held out one of the folded posters. It was clear that several of them had been examined.
"Are they all me?" Bill asked, sounding perplexed.
Georg didn't know what else to do, he nodded.
"Why?" was Bill's next question.
It was said so innocently and faced with such complete confusion, Georg could not lie. His worst nightmare was coming to pass, but he just could not look into Bill's wide, brown eyes and lie.
"I'm in love with you," he said in a voice that was only just loud enough to be heard above the TV, "I have been for a long time."
Bill's mouth opened in a tiny, astonished 'O' shape. What did not happen was Bill appearing horrified and running for the door and Georg began to hope just a little that he could salvage the situation. He didn't know how to approach it all, but he let himself believe that maybe they could both live with this. He would give up anything for Bill, even his posters, if it made his friend uncomfortable.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Bill asked eventually.
That made Georg laugh, since he was completely on edge.
"Because I thought you might hate me," he said honestly. "I couldn't risk the band; we've all worked too hard for too long."
Bill stood up, clearly thinking about this.
"So you have pictures of me," Bill said still holding one of the posters.
It wasn't a question and Georg could only assume Bill was sorting everything out in his head.
"What were you really doing before I knocked?"
That was another thing about Bill; he could be as dense as anything one moment and more perceptive than you ever wanted him to be the next. When Bill really cared about something, nothing escaped him. Georg felt himself blushing and he just about became mute. Bill walked up to him and he felt as if the whole situation was slipping away from him.
"What do you do with my pictures, Georg?" Bill asked firmly.
Bill didn't sound annoyed, but his tone did suggest that he would become so if his question was not answered.
"I was naked," Georg said helplessly, "what do you think I was doing?"
For a few moments Bill stood completely still and Georg waited for the explosion. When it didn't come it was almost worse.
"I make you do that?" Bill asked.
Georg wasn't sure how much worse this could get.
"Please, Bill, don't..." he tried to reason with his friend.
"Answer the question," Bill said in a clipped tone.
Georg almost gave up then, but he didn't know what would happen if he refused to answer and he was terrified Bill would never forgive him.
"Yes," he said, defeated.
"Show me," were the next shocking words from Bill's mouth, so shocking in fact that Georg stood there with his mouth open for a good thirty seconds.
"What?" he asked and his voice kind of squeaked.
"Show me," Bill said again. "I want to see what you do. The real thing has to be better than posters, right? So show me."
"Bill..." Georg couldn't believe this was happening.
"Georg," Bill interrupted him in a warning tone; "show me."
It was all rather surreal as Bill walked to the bed and sat down towards the head end looking at him with such an intense expression that he had no choice but to obey. Really not believing he was doing it, he slowly unbelted the robe he was wearing and no matter what the rest of him was thinking, his cock seemed to like the idea. Bill had eyes that could eat you alive and Georg felt his will draining away as his friend watched him intently.
He let the robe fall to the floor, feeling Bill's gaze like fire on his skin and he slowly knelt on the bed. It was strange; now that he was naked, he did not feel self-conscious and it was almost as if he was in a dream, a perfect dream that he didn't want to end. Bill was right, the real thing was better than posters and Georg let himself look at his friend. It was downtime and Bill was wearing his hair down with very little makeup, but there was still something otherworldly about him. Georg could see heat in Bill's eyes and he let himself burn with it.
He had no idea what was going on in Bill's head, all he knew was that he had Bill's undivided attention and he liked it. This didn't make any sense in his mind and part of him didn't really believe it was happening, which was a more than liberating experience.
His body had responded already, quite willing to leap back into action after having been interrupted, and he reached down to run his fingers over the head of his cock. There was already a bead of pre-cum on the tip and he ever so slowly smeared it down over the slit, moaning quietly at the throb of arousal it sent through him.
That was something he didn't usually allow himself; sound. You could never tell how thin the walls of a hotel room would be and he had trained himself to be quiet to keep his secret. With Bill only feet from him this seemed irrelevant now.
He put his head back, looking at Bill through heavy lidded eyes and he stroked himself firmly. There was no way he could make it last now, he could feel it. This was not going to be slow and languid, but rather fast and furious as his real live audience watched him. He did not really feel as if he was in control of his own movements as he rubbed his fingers lightly over the head of his cock, reaching for his goal quickly.
He was a stone rolling down a steep hill, gathering speed as forces a stone could not possibly know took hold of it and increased its flight. Even if he had this for only now, he wanted it so badly and he wanted Bill to know how deep his desire ran; how much he loved him.
When it came, his orgasm took away any resemblance of control he had left. He tensed from head to foot, almost surprised to find the peak so quickly and then he came all over his hand and the bed, falling forward as his body quaked with muscle spasms. The pleasure was incredible and he breathed Bill's name as if it was a prayer. Only now did he close his eyes and he hung his head, not knowing what was to come.
After a few moments silence to gather his thoughts back together, he made himself look up. No matter what Bill thought of him he had to face it or it would destroy them both. Bill was still watching him and there were so many emotions in Bill's expression that he didn't know what he was seeing. He just remained perfectly still, afraid to break the tableau.
When Bill moved it almost made him jump and he pushed himself back on his haunches, wiping his hand on the bedclothes as he did so. Bill crawled over the bed to him before kneeling up and pulling something out of a back pocket. Bill held up what was in his hand and leant forward to whisper in Georg's ear.
"I've fancied you since I was fifteen," Bill said quietly, "and that performance was the hottest thing I've ever seen."
Bill was holding a picture of him, an old, crumpled, well used picture of him. Georg wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, so instead he reached out and dragged Bill into the most intense kiss he could manage. Bill tasted exactly the way he thought he would and so much better at the same time. He had been willing to give all he had for that kiss and he was pretty sure he had just given his soul.
The End
Author: Beren
Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Pairing: Georg/Bill
Rating: NC17/18
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, the real people in it are used without their permission and I definitely don't own them or have any copyright to any part of any of them. I do not believe any of this happened, is likely to happen or should happen it is simply a story created around known facts about those involved.
Warnings: wanking
Summary: Georg's been hiding something for a while and occasionally he needs relief, so he indulges himself in private.
Author's Notes: This is from a prompt from meridian_star who asked for "Georg getting off from posters of Bill". Thanks to Soph for the beta.
Word count: 2,670
Link: Other MMOM fic
Georg locked his door using the latch to make sure no one could get in even with the spare key security always had. It was very important no one could interrupt what he was about to do because if anyone found out there would be hell to pay. He had a secret vice and he was almost sure that if any of the others knew what it was it would wreck the band; either that or be wonderful, but he couldn't take the risk.
His vice was not drugs or excessive alcohol, it was far more personal. Walking over to the bed, he opened his case and calmly unfastened the lining to reach underneath and pull out a small stack of folded papers. Some of the papers in the pile were old and looking worn around the edges, others were much newer, but he knew each by heart. He placed them carefully on the bed and then stepped back slightly.
It was almost a ritual now after years of refinement. A ritual to worship what he knew he could never have. Slowly, starting with his t-shirt, he began to remove his clothes. He took everything off, all his clothes, his underwear, even the one piece of jewellery he was wearing, until he was as naked as the day he had been born. His cock was already twitching with interest, but he was not about to touch it, not yet.
Stepping back to the bed, he picked up the first of the folded pieces of paper and gently opened it up. He placed it at its proper place towards the top of the bed and then he reached for the next one. They were not stored in any particular order, but he knew how to put them on a bed of just about any size so they were spread out and ordered correctly. When he was finished he had a patch work, a patch work of Bill from their earliest time in the spotlight at the top left to a poster from the latest magazine that fans were flocking to buy in the shops that very week at the bottom right.
Just in front of him there was a gap in the patchwork, a gap big enough for him to kneel in, which he did, careful not to dislodge any of the posters he had arranged.
It had been so long that he had forgotten what it was like not to want Bill. One day Bill had gone from the sweet kid who sang their songs to the sweet kid he found himself desperately wanting, who had slowly morphed into the passionate young man that made Georg ache every time he looked at him.
He did not often allow himself this indulgence. He was terrified that one day he would slip and forget to pretend to be just a friend, so he only let himself indulge this way when he couldn't bear it anymore. He literally found Bill intoxicating and he let himself sink into the delirium knowing that for a little while he was safe.
Bill surrounded him on all sides and he took in the beauty he could see as he slowly brought his hand down to rub gently over his balls. There was something not quite mortal about Bill, especially in photographs and Georg drank it all in with his eyes. He would have given anything that was his to give to be able to kiss Bill just once and he moved his finger up over his hard length as he tried to grasp the fleeting idea of what that would be like.
He had seen Bill kiss a girl and he remembered all too clearly thinking that Bill was a truly gentle soul. If anyone ever hurt Bill, Tom would be first in line to hurt them back, but Georg would be a very close second. Their lead singer was a poet with a romantic outlook on the world and Georg wished he could be the one to stand between Bill and any chance of the shattering of illusions. He had never felt quite like this about anyone ever before, which was how he knew he was truly lost.
Beginning to move his hands in slow even strokes, he sank even deeper into his mind, using the familiar images in front of him as a meditative aid more than anything else. He knew this was wrong, lusting after his friend was just not right, but he needed release or he was going to explode at the wrong time and place. When he was like this he thought he understood what some of the fans felt when they screamed and cried and fainted; this was his only outlet and he needed it to not be like them.
When he allowed himself to indulge, he liked to take it slowly and he worked himself gently, edging on his excitement only little by little. He was hard and he could feel his pulse thudding through his body to his groin, but when he was like this he could hold himself on the edge for hours.
A knock on the door startled him out of his trance like state and he looked round.
"Georg?"
It was Bill's voice and he almost panicked. Out of everyone it could have been it had to be Bill.
"Georg are you in there?"
If it had been anyone else, he would have stayed silent, but after what he had been doing it seemed almost sacrilegious not to reply.
"Yes," he replied, just loud enough to be heard.
"Are you busy?" Bill asked through the door. "Tom and Gustav have headed out and I didn't fancy clubbing, but I'm kind of bored. If you're busy I can just go."
That was one of the things he loved about Bill; no matter how much the press hyped up their lead singer, Bill never took his friends for granted.
"No," Georg called back, he knew all too well what it was like to sit in a hotel room on your own and he wasn't going to put that on Bill, "just wait a sec."
He hurriedly grabbed everything, rapidly folding all of the posters and, throwing them in his case, which he in turn put on the floor. Then he took his clothes and threw them on a chair before grabbing a hotel robe and throwing it on. After this he hurried to the door and opened it.
"Sorry," he apologised, letting Bill in, "I was about to jump in the shower. I won't be too long; you can watch TV or something."
Bill grinned at that, obviously pleased.
"Thanks," Bill said, grabbing the remote from the side and sitting demurely on the bed.
"I haven't checked the mini-bar yet," Georg said, realising that the room smelled of sex and praying that Bill wouldn't notice, "save me some vodka if there's any in there."
Then he disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower. At least he could wash away any evidence of what he had been doing before he went back out to watch TV with Bill. Somehow he had to get back into friend mode before he stepped out of the room and back into the other one. It took him almost all of the fifteen minute shower to calm himself down and he did his best to push any thoughts about Bill as anything but his band mate out of his head.
He finally walked back into the other room calm and ready for an evening of making fun of the hotel TV. The TV was on, but Bill was not sitting on the bed where he expected his friend to be. Bill was kneeling on the floor next to his case, holding a small poster of himself. Bill looked up at him with a confused little frown.
"It popped open," Bill said as if a little embarrassed to have been caught. "I saw these fall out."
Bill held out one of the folded posters. It was clear that several of them had been examined.
"Are they all me?" Bill asked, sounding perplexed.
Georg didn't know what else to do, he nodded.
"Why?" was Bill's next question.
It was said so innocently and faced with such complete confusion, Georg could not lie. His worst nightmare was coming to pass, but he just could not look into Bill's wide, brown eyes and lie.
"I'm in love with you," he said in a voice that was only just loud enough to be heard above the TV, "I have been for a long time."
Bill's mouth opened in a tiny, astonished 'O' shape. What did not happen was Bill appearing horrified and running for the door and Georg began to hope just a little that he could salvage the situation. He didn't know how to approach it all, but he let himself believe that maybe they could both live with this. He would give up anything for Bill, even his posters, if it made his friend uncomfortable.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Bill asked eventually.
That made Georg laugh, since he was completely on edge.
"Because I thought you might hate me," he said honestly. "I couldn't risk the band; we've all worked too hard for too long."
Bill stood up, clearly thinking about this.
"So you have pictures of me," Bill said still holding one of the posters.
It wasn't a question and Georg could only assume Bill was sorting everything out in his head.
"What were you really doing before I knocked?"
That was another thing about Bill; he could be as dense as anything one moment and more perceptive than you ever wanted him to be the next. When Bill really cared about something, nothing escaped him. Georg felt himself blushing and he just about became mute. Bill walked up to him and he felt as if the whole situation was slipping away from him.
"What do you do with my pictures, Georg?" Bill asked firmly.
Bill didn't sound annoyed, but his tone did suggest that he would become so if his question was not answered.
"I was naked," Georg said helplessly, "what do you think I was doing?"
For a few moments Bill stood completely still and Georg waited for the explosion. When it didn't come it was almost worse.
"I make you do that?" Bill asked.
Georg wasn't sure how much worse this could get.
"Please, Bill, don't..." he tried to reason with his friend.
"Answer the question," Bill said in a clipped tone.
Georg almost gave up then, but he didn't know what would happen if he refused to answer and he was terrified Bill would never forgive him.
"Yes," he said, defeated.
"Show me," were the next shocking words from Bill's mouth, so shocking in fact that Georg stood there with his mouth open for a good thirty seconds.
"What?" he asked and his voice kind of squeaked.
"Show me," Bill said again. "I want to see what you do. The real thing has to be better than posters, right? So show me."
"Bill..." Georg couldn't believe this was happening.
"Georg," Bill interrupted him in a warning tone; "show me."
It was all rather surreal as Bill walked to the bed and sat down towards the head end looking at him with such an intense expression that he had no choice but to obey. Really not believing he was doing it, he slowly unbelted the robe he was wearing and no matter what the rest of him was thinking, his cock seemed to like the idea. Bill had eyes that could eat you alive and Georg felt his will draining away as his friend watched him intently.
He let the robe fall to the floor, feeling Bill's gaze like fire on his skin and he slowly knelt on the bed. It was strange; now that he was naked, he did not feel self-conscious and it was almost as if he was in a dream, a perfect dream that he didn't want to end. Bill was right, the real thing was better than posters and Georg let himself look at his friend. It was downtime and Bill was wearing his hair down with very little makeup, but there was still something otherworldly about him. Georg could see heat in Bill's eyes and he let himself burn with it.
He had no idea what was going on in Bill's head, all he knew was that he had Bill's undivided attention and he liked it. This didn't make any sense in his mind and part of him didn't really believe it was happening, which was a more than liberating experience.
His body had responded already, quite willing to leap back into action after having been interrupted, and he reached down to run his fingers over the head of his cock. There was already a bead of pre-cum on the tip and he ever so slowly smeared it down over the slit, moaning quietly at the throb of arousal it sent through him.
That was something he didn't usually allow himself; sound. You could never tell how thin the walls of a hotel room would be and he had trained himself to be quiet to keep his secret. With Bill only feet from him this seemed irrelevant now.
He put his head back, looking at Bill through heavy lidded eyes and he stroked himself firmly. There was no way he could make it last now, he could feel it. This was not going to be slow and languid, but rather fast and furious as his real live audience watched him. He did not really feel as if he was in control of his own movements as he rubbed his fingers lightly over the head of his cock, reaching for his goal quickly.
He was a stone rolling down a steep hill, gathering speed as forces a stone could not possibly know took hold of it and increased its flight. Even if he had this for only now, he wanted it so badly and he wanted Bill to know how deep his desire ran; how much he loved him.
When it came, his orgasm took away any resemblance of control he had left. He tensed from head to foot, almost surprised to find the peak so quickly and then he came all over his hand and the bed, falling forward as his body quaked with muscle spasms. The pleasure was incredible and he breathed Bill's name as if it was a prayer. Only now did he close his eyes and he hung his head, not knowing what was to come.
After a few moments silence to gather his thoughts back together, he made himself look up. No matter what Bill thought of him he had to face it or it would destroy them both. Bill was still watching him and there were so many emotions in Bill's expression that he didn't know what he was seeing. He just remained perfectly still, afraid to break the tableau.
When Bill moved it almost made him jump and he pushed himself back on his haunches, wiping his hand on the bedclothes as he did so. Bill crawled over the bed to him before kneeling up and pulling something out of a back pocket. Bill held up what was in his hand and leant forward to whisper in Georg's ear.
"I've fancied you since I was fifteen," Bill said quietly, "and that performance was the hottest thing I've ever seen."
Bill was holding a picture of him, an old, crumpled, well used picture of him. Georg wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, so instead he reached out and dragged Bill into the most intense kiss he could manage. Bill tasted exactly the way he thought he would and so much better at the same time. He had been willing to give all he had for that kiss and he was pretty sure he had just given his soul.
The End