TH fic "A Massage Master" (Tom/Bill, explicit)

[paceus]

Summary: Bill has been really tense and Tom believes it's because he's not having sex. Luckily there's a particular kind of massage that helps men with this problem. Tom read all about it online.

Author's notes: Thanks to misskass for the beta!

Written for the toho_kinkmeme prompt "since Bill "doesnt" really have sex all that much, there just too much testosterone in his sexy body and he become high strung sometimes and or before concerts. Tom being the older twin will help Bill in anyways and searches the internet for some answers. conclusion he finds that prostate milking will help Bill."

"So," Tom said. They were sitting in Bill's bunk side by side, and maybe it could have been more awkward, but Tom couldn't really imagine how. He didn't quite know where to put his hands, and Bill was staring at him wide-eyed like a child. Which he very much wasn't, because then this wouldn't have been an issue at all.

Tom cleared his throat. "I think you need to take your pants off first," he said.

"Right," Bill said in a faint voice. He got up and started to unzip. Tom looked away.

"Are you sure no one will come in?" he asked, nervous when Bill stripped off both his pants and briefs at once. His skin was so pale, and although it was a bit dim, anyone who would have looked in would have seen everything. Tom looked away again.

"I put a sign on the door and I told at least four people not to bother us," Bill said, struggling with his shoes.

"You told that many people?" Tom blanched. "And just what did you say we do in here in the middle of the day?"

Bill gave him a look, discarding his pants in a heap on the floor. "Would you rather someone took a peek and saw what we're doing here?"

"Of course not!" Tom snapped. Then he sighed. "Point taken," he said.

Bill settled down on his bunk, naked from the waist down, then lay down. He bent his knees and spread his legs. Tom kept his eyes off what was between them. Somehow he hadn't realised beforehand how very awkward this would be. Bill's naked calf brushed Tom's back when he adjusted his position and Tom opened his mouth.

"Are you sure the sign's good enough?" Tom asked. "What if I locked the door-"

He was halfway up when Bill yanked at his sleeve. "Sit down, it's locked," he said. "Now just do it."

It seemed Bill was more relaxed now, Tom noted, trying to comfort himself. It didn't really work because now he was the nervous one. Well, maybe he had been from the start.

"I just, I think we should be careful. I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"Look. I don't care if it hurts a little, or if it's uncomfortable," Bill said, looking determined. "You said yourself that this helps with my tenseness and stress, so it's worth it. As far as I'm considered." Bill's tone changed. "Don't you want to do it?"

Bill started to bring his legs closer together. Tom put his hand on one bare knee to stop him. "No, it's all right," he said. "It's just that I've never done this before, all right? I'm a bit nervous."

"That makes two of us," was Bill's comment. Tom looked at him and rolled his eyes. This must be the weirdest thing we've ever done. Bill snorted. That's saying a lot.

The proof that they were still able to communicate without words made Tom feel like they were on the same side more than anything. He took the bottle of lotion, feeling braver now. "All right," he said and squeezed the bottle. A tablespoon's worth would surely be enough.

Then he turned his attention to Bill's ass. It occurred to him that the position wasn't ideal. "Um. Could you move your leg a little, I need to get closer," he said.

"Oh. Sure," Bill said. Tom shifted closer, waiting for Bill to lower his leg to the mattress so that Tom could slip his hand between his thighs more easily. Instead, Bill yanked his whole leg up -- his knee almost fitting into his armpit, Jesus he was flexible -- and hooked it around Tom so that his foot rested on Tom's thigh.

"Is this good?" Bill said. Tom was between his legs now and his whole area was very visible and reachable to him.

Tom retrieved his tongue so that it wasn't in danger of being swallowed. "Fine," he choked, wanting nothing more than this whole thing to be over as fast as possible, and then he jabbed his hand forward and put his middle finger on Bill where the skin was darker. He tried not to think about what he was doing. He wasn't a fan of assholes in general and there was something very wrong about touching his little brother's.

Bill let out a cry and Tom jumped.

"It's cold!" Bill said.

"Sorry," Tom muttered. "It can't be helped." He smeared the lotion around.

"I don't care, it just startled me," Bill said.

"All right, now, this might hurt and be uncomfortable, so the website told me to do this first to make it easier," Tom said. Then he swiped the skin right under Bill's balls with his thumb.

"What is it supposed to do?" Bill asked.

"I don't know, relax you or something." Tom swiped again, applying more pressure. He should have printed the instructions so he could have checked them now; he wasn't sure what they had said anymore.

"This is so weird," Bill said.

"What?" Tom asked, preoccupied. He wanted to make this work, and it took pretty much all of his concentration. He realised that he needed something to brace himself on and rested his knuckles against Bill's ass cheek.

"You know, lying like this with you... watching."

"Just don't think about it," Tom advised. It was easier now. He changed his tactics and moved his thumb slowly up and down, pressing on the skin.

"Oh," Bill said in a different voice.

"Is it working?"

"It's doing... something. Don't stop."

Tom kept the pressure and tried to move his thumb in circles. Bill whooped.

"Is that good?" Tom wanted know.

"Yes, it's making me more relaxed," Bill said. "Tom, it works!" he sounded enthusiastic. "A little higher, press deeper."

Tom wanted to grumble about the instructions, but then, the whole point of this was to help Bill, so he kept his complaints to himself and tried to do what Bill said.

"Are you relaxed?"

"Very relaxed," Bill said, sounding contented. "This is like a massage. You're really good at this!"

"Why thank you," Tom said dryly. It wasn't like he wanted to be good at it. Still, the compliment made him feel nice. He liked being good at everything he did. "I'm going to do it now."

He touched Bill with his middle finger, gathering the lotion into his fingertip, hoping it was warmer now. He'd feared that touching Bill there would feel all kinds of gross, but actually it wasn't that bad. The skin was dark pink around the hole and he slid his finger over it again and again, remembering what the website said about prostate massage. You needed to be in deep to do it, but it was important to take your time before going inside. Plunging in would end up being an unpleasant experience for the receiver, and Tom didn't want that.

"What are you doing?" Bill asked, and Tom realised he'd forgotten to tell Bill the details. Bill sounded a little tense and uncomfortable, his voice was higher than usual, but he felt very relaxed under Tom's fingertip. Actually it felt like he was opening up, like Tom could stick his finger in soon without any resistance at all. The thought made him feel... strange.

"I'm following the instructions on the web page," he explained to Bill. "This is called prep time or something like that. It makes it easier to, you know, put it in."

"...all right," Bill said. His voice was still different, high and breathy like he wasn't getting enough air, but he seemed to be comfortable with what Tom was doing, and that was the important thing.

Tom teased Bill's hole further and it definitely felt more open. The lotion was warm and Bill seemed relaxed, so Tom figured he'd done everything he could and pushed his fingertip in.

Bill made a surprised sound. Tom couldn't speak. He couldn't even breathe. His finger was in up until the first joint, and it felt slippery, hot and really tight, like Bill was gripping him. It looked indescribable. Tom's finger just disappeared inside Bill's body.

Tom felt light-headed, staring at his finger. He had to consciously force air into his lungs and out again. It must have sounded funny, like he was breathing kind of heavy. He tore his eyes away from Bill's ass and looked at his face.

Bill's eyes were shut and his mouth was open in a startled expression.

"Are you all right?" Tom asked and cleared his throat.

"Just don't move," Bill said in a small voice.

"Do you want to stop? Does it hurt?" Tom was worried, but Bill had told him not to move, so there wasn't anything he could do. He glanced at his finger before looking back up at Bill. Then he looked at his finger again. It was amazing, how it was inside Bill, and how Tom could feel Bill all around his fingertip, silky soft and hot.

Bill took a deep breath. "Be careful, all right?" he said.

"I am careful," Tom reassured him.

"Take it real slow," Bill said. "I'm trying to relax."

"Good, yeah, that'd be good," Tom said and swallowed. He could see Bill's skin move as he consciously relaxed himself, and of course he felt the pressure lessening.

Tom turned his hand a bit, his finger rotating, not pushing in or pulling out.

"Oh," Bill said. Tom turned his finger back, gently, slowly.

"Put it in deeper," Bill told him, and Tom scowled.

"Didn't you just say-" he started.

"Yeah, but I changed my mind," Bill said.

"Fine," Tom muttered and pushed his finger deeper. It slid surprisingly easily in to the second joint, and then Tom had to stop because he was having the light-headed feeling again.

"Is it okay?" he asked and pulled the finger out an inch.

"Uh-huh," Bill said. He sounded distracted. He had put an arm over his eyes, which was good because Tom didn't particularly want Bill to look at him while he was doing this.

Tom slid his finger in and out a few times. Bill's ass had loosened up on the death grip. It seemed like a good sign. Tom applied a little pressure, since that had worked for Bill so well earlier, and stroked the front wall while he slid his finger out.

"Ah," Bill said.

Tom ignored him. The prostate was somewhere around here. Tom kept petting the front wall, as the website had called it, his pace slow and even. It felt like Bill had relaxed completely - he could move his finger easily, and he could really feel how soft and smooth it was. It felt different than a vagina. Tom had never thought about it, but he guessed it wasn't really surprising. Sweat tickled his eyebrows and he wiped it away with his other hand. It didn't look like hard work but he felt hot, like he'd played ten songs to a crowded stadium.

"Okay, I'm going to try and find it now," Tom said. "Say if it feels like I have."

"How do I know if you have?" Bill said from under his arm. Tom rolled his eyes a little.

"It'll feel different, that's how. It may feel like you have to piss." Or was that the G spot? Tom wasn't sure. "Please don't," he added, and Bill scoffed.

Tom was just about to start searching for Bill's prostate when he was distracted by movement in the corner of his eye and realised for the first time that Bill was filling up; he was growing hard. Tom stopped moving, staring at Bill's dick. "Er," he said. You're kind of gay? he was going to say, but then he thought it might not help if he did.

"What?" Bill said. He raised his arm and looked at Tom. "Are you chickening out now?"

"I'm not," Tom said and kept his eyes on Bill's. "Just... give me a second, all right?"

"Fine." Bill looked up at the ceiling.

Tom felt uncomfortable. "Could you close your eyes?"

Bill frowned and Tom hastened to continue. "It would be easier for me."

Bill heaved a melodramatic sigh and closed his eyes. "Better?" he asked, and Tom thanked him, because sometimes you just needed to keep Bill placated.

Tom pushed his finger in deeper, as deep as it would go, trying to look somewhere else while doing it because it felt so weird. His eyes caught Bill's t-shirt riding up and revealing his stomach, and that wasn't any better, so he just tried to concentrate on what he was doing. He stroked and rubbed with his fingertip carefully. There was something there that felt different, and Bill tensed, so it must have been it.

"Do you think that's it?" Tom asked. He drew his fingertip over it again and Bill made a strange hiccupping sound.

"I guess," Bill said shakily.

Tom was pleased with himself, having found it so quickly, and having done the whole thing so classily and painlessly for Bill, to boot. He pushed his finger in and out, stroking the prostate with his fingertip. He was getting good at this and the only thing that bothered him anymore was that Bill was undeniably, well, interested. His dick wasn't lying soft and pointing at his thigh like it had at first; it was closer to his stomach now and getting harder. Tom felt even a bit disappointed by it: here he was, trying to help Bill and make him calmer, and Bill was sidetracked like that. Tom guessed he couldn't help it, though, if he really was gay.

"Does it feel like this is helping?" Tom asked pointedly anyway.

"Ummm," Bill said, "ah, I think so. Oh yes."

Tom realised with a sinking feeling that his question had helped Bill to lose his inhibitions about keeping quiet. He tried to filter Bill's noises out and concentrated on massaging his prostate. The better he did it, the sooner they would be finished, after all.

It was kind of hypnotising to watch his finger sliding in and out of Bill's slick hole. Tom shifted. It wasn't exactly entertaining, but still weirdly not unpleasant.

Tom noticed after a while that Bill's ass was accommodating his finger much better, and he tested it for a while, pressing his whole finger up some more. He ignored Bill's appreciative sounds and the fact that he spread his legs further, canting his hips, and moved his finger up and down, keeping his fingertip on Bill's prostate and rubbing it. It was stretching Bill's hole in an astounding manner. After a while Tom slipped another finger in, and it went in, no problem.

"Mgh," Bill said, and Tom crooked two fingers inside him and rubbed.

"Oh god," Bill said, "Tom." He dug his elbows in the mattress and pressed down heavily on Tom's thigh with his foot, raising his hips and coming on his stomach and the sheets in obscene white spurts.

Tom yelped, both because Bill's bony heel on his thigh hurt and because this had not been what he had signed up for. He extracted his fingers and leaned back, realising he was being ridiculous but unable to help it. Bill, on the other hand, didn't even look at him; he let his legs sprawl and his arms spread and just lay there in a boneless-looking heap.

"God, Bill," Tom said, annoyed. Bill didn't react. Tom grabbed his leg, the one that was lying across his lap, and shoved it on the mattress.

"Don't be mad," Bill said, batting at Tom, eyes still closed.

"That was just so-" Tom searched for a word.

"It worked," Bill said, at the same time as Tom finished, "uncalled for."

Tom gaped at Bill. Bill looked back and smiled like he had just come in a spectacular way, which he had; Tom felt bitter.

"It worked," Bill repeated. "You said that the purpose was to extract fluids and look -- it worked!"

Bill smiled brilliantly and Tom looked down at him in distaste. Fine, it had worked, but that was not what Tom had expected. In the website it had seemed so much more clinical and neat. As a matter of fact, Tom suspected that the whole thing had been ruined by Bill orgasming like he didn't take this seriously at all.

"Look, I think we should do it again," Tom said.

"What?" Bill looked surprised. "Why?"

Tom wondered what to say for a moment; he had a feeling Bill would argue with his view. He settled for a half truth. "I think it said that one time isn't effective enough," he said.

Bill stared at him and for a minute Tom tensed, expecting Bill to start arguing anyway. It was what Bill did, after all. To his surprise, however, Bill blinked, shrugged and flopped down on the bed. "Sure, if you think so!"

Tom gave Bill a disapproving look. His hair was an unflattering mess from lying down, he was covered in his own come and his legs were spread shamelessly so that Tom could clearly see both his rosy dick and his slick hole.

Tom swallowed. His look had no effect either; Bill just smiled drowsily.

"Let's try it in a different position," Tom said, and added, "so we'll know which is the most effective."

Bill hummed. "Like this?" he turned a little to his side, so that he was facing away from Tom. It was good because then Tom wouldn't see Bill's face -- or his dick -- but it would be a difficult position for Tom.

"How about on your hands and knees," he suggested.

Bill shrugged again. "Sounds all right," he said and got up. "As long as my legs support me, I feel a bit shaky."

Tom made a face behind Bill's back. It was all very well for Bill to talk when he'd just come and Tom was doing all the work. Tom would have liked to see Bill doing something for Tom that made him... or maybe not, he thought hastily.

"All right, let's get this over with," he said and squeezed out some more lotion. Bill was on all fours in front of him, giving him easy access. He coated his fingers with the lotion and slipped his middle finger right in, making Bill hiss when the cold lotion made contact with his skin. Tom smirked.

He might not have even needed lotion: Bill's ass was still slick and Tom's finger slipped right in. He watched it get buried inside and felt his smirk fading away. He pulled the finger almost all the way out and pushed it back in; it disappeared quickly into the slippery heat.

Bill squirmed. "Get on with it," he said. "I don't need any prep now."

"Yeah," Tom said distractedly and put his other hand on Bill's hip, steadying him, keeping him still so he could... he shifted, trying to find a better sitting position, and played with his finger for a moment longer. It was fascinating how easily he could move it now. Obviously, since Bill had come and was probably way more relaxed now.

Tom pulled his finger away, making Bill whine, and then he pushed two fingers in at once.

"Oh," Bill said. "Tom."

Tom had thought the position would be easier because he couldn't see Bill's face, but that was making him feel more worked up. And not because he was annoyed, either. He slid two fingers into Bill and Bill's body took them, and he was gripping Bill's buttock now with his other hand, pushing it up and away with his thumb so that Bill was spread in front of him even more.

Tom blinked once, twice, three times, and tried to remember what he was doing. He wasn't going to open his zipper and get on his knees behind Bill. He was here to provide a prostate massage.

He pushed his fingers deeper and searched for Bill's prostate. It felt slightly different in this position but he found it -- he could feel it, and Bill's "Ohhhh" was a pretty strong indicator. Tom pressed his fingers against it and stroked it. Bill dropped his head down and kept making sounds that were like moans, and Tom had to put his other hand on his cock -- it was rock hard -- and palm it. He felt like he was drunk.

Tom rubbed and rubbed Bill insistently, and Bill spread his legs further and dropped down on his elbows and wasn't quiet for one second. Tom was panting pretty harshly, too. Bill's hole felt so amazing around his fingers, so smooth and tight and as if it would like nothing better than to stretch around Tom's cock.

Tom swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper. He was jealous of his own fingers, that they were enjoying the sweet pressure of Bill's ass instead of his cock, and he was going to explode if something didn't happen soon.

"Is this effective?" he ground out, stroking Bill in short, fast thrusts now.

"Tom," Bill wailed, and hearing Bill say his name like that was making Tom lose his mind.

"Fuck, Bill," he grunted. Bill moaned again and collapsed on the mattress like his arms couldn't hold him up anymore, resting his forehead on the bed and pushing his ass against Tom's fingers.

"Oh fuck, oh Tom," Bill panted. His back was a sweet, steep slope down. Tom gritted his teeth. Seeing Bill like that and all the talk about fucking was tearing him apart. He wanted so badly to drape himself over Bill's back and push his cock inside.

"I'm going to," Bill said weakly, and then he came again, squeezing rhythmically around Tom's fingers. Tom didn't stop stroking him and Bill trashed and fucked himself on his fingers and kept on coming, gasping, until he finally staggered forward on his knees and fell on his side.

Tom was equal amounts dazed and sour. He hadn't come, no, he still had a raging hard-on and he just knew that the images of Bill's ass around his fingers and the ghost feeling of Bill's tight heat constricting around him wouldn't give him peace for weeks, and nothing else would satisfy.

"Oh my god," Bill said. "I feel like I released so much tension."

"Well, I'm glad it worked for you," Tom said sullenly.

"Mm-hmm." Bill smiled and looked completely blissed out. "I'm going to be so amazing on stage tonight. They won't know what hit them."

"Fantastic," Tom said. He dried his fingers on Bill's sheets. It was a petty vengeance and it didn't even make him feel better. "Well," he said, "I'd better get going."

"Where?" Bill asked. He sounded genuinely surprised. He was probably so out of it he didn't realise that Tom wasn't exactly going to sit by him when he was come drenched (and his sheets were too) and half naked.

"To chill out," Tom said. He did not say, to wank, which would have been more truthful. Or to wash my hands, which would have been meaner. "I want to be good on stage too, you know? I need to get prepared."

"I'm sure you're going to be wonderful," Bill said, almost purring the last word. He sat up and leaned closer. Tom was going to flinch back, but of course he couldn't, in the end. A half naked and come drenched Bill was way up on his list of things he wanted to be close to.

"You were so good," Bill said, giving him the most amazing bedroom eyes. "I trust you'll help me again soon?"

When Tom staggered towards his own bed he was still hard and frustrated, but a good deal more hopeful for the future.

I've written a sequel to this story called A Troubled Masseur.