Long fic: Filling in the Blanks (11/?) Tom/Bill, R
Title: Filling in the Blanks
Author: littlemrstom
Pairing(s): Tom/Bill
Rating: R
Warnings: Adult content, Drug Use, Twincest
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; I own nothing but the plot.
Summary: After discovering a potentially dangerous problem following a traumatic car crash, Bill Trumper is left with only one option; a blood transfusion. Unfortunately for him, only a handful of people in the country have the same blood type, one of those people being his twin.
His twin who... doesn’t even know he exists.
Author's notes: Everyone give cookies to hysterichotel for helping me with the summary, and to ninaelisabeth for giving me the beautiful banner <3 I also promise that this fic is not gross or based around medical things, and no one is permanently hurt.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10
“I’m bored.”
Bill shifts on the stiff bed he’s been placed on, a lot lumpier than the one he’s used to using at home. The springs bounce audibly in the small, somewhat cramped room, but still Bill settles himself back against the lifted head and purses his lips.
“Already?” Tom asks, turning his head to look at Bill, sat beside him. The younger nods, a lopsided, half-smile sliding over his face. “In that case, if I were you, I’d get comfortable,” Tom tells him, amused, “you’re gonna be sat here for a while now.”
“Ugh, I know,” is Bill’s response, and Tom can’t help but chuckle. Looking momentarily away from Bill, he glances around the room, checking the door is still shut, before scooting further up the bed, a little closer to Bill. Their thighs bump when Tom finally stills, just a bit too close than would be considered brotherly, and after a second glance at the unlocked door, he brushes his fingers gently over the backs of Bill’s own fingers and presses a kiss to his forehead.
“You okay so far?”
Bill mimics Tom’s actions in checking the door before he leans forward and nuzzles his nose against Tom’s cheek. He nods slowly and smiles against Tom’s warm skin. “I’m good,” he replies, pulling away and focusing on the area where their legs touch. “This is going to take forever, isn’t it?”
Even though the question is rhetoric, Tom shrugs and casts the plastic bag hanging from a hook above their heads a scathing look. It’s filled with a deep red liquid that he can see dripping down through multiple tubes and funnels and wires, which all ultimately finish up in a needle that currently sits in the back of Bill’s hand, cushioned by a slowly purpling patch of skin. Tom wants to stroke his fingers across it, wants to try and wipe the ugly bruise away, though he knows he can’t risk touching anything for Bill’s sake.
“I wonder where mum and Gordon are with my crisps.” Bill’s voice interrupts Tom’s pondering and Tom can’t help but laugh out loud. “What?” Bill asks. “I’m bored and hungry. You’re meant to be entertaining me, you know, because as you said yourself, I’m gonna be sat here for a while.”
“So am I, though?” Tom offers, his sentence phrased as a joke but completely serious. “I’m gonna stay here with you the whole time.”
At that, Bill’s stomach flips and flops, the butterflies that have seemingly decided to take up permanent residence in there fluttering happily inside him. He shoots the door a quick glance before he leans in and presses his lips to Tom’s in the briefest of kisses, though it’s long enough to catch Tom off guard.
When Bill pulls away, his face meek, Tom smiles at him somewhat dopily. It is the smallest of gestures, but to both of them it it’s a sign of something much bigger; for Bill, the confidence he wants to know he possesses over his budding relationship, and for Tom, the reassurance that Bill honestly reflects everything he feels.
There’s a twinkle in Tom’s eye that Bill can see, though before he can open his mouth to comment on it, Simone’s voice trails in underneath the closed door and he bites back a sigh. Tom begrudgingly shuffles back on the bed, giving Bill’s fingers one last stroke before the door opens and Simone and Gordon enter.
“Hey, Billy.” Simone’s voice is bright, maybe a little too bright for the capacity and atmosphere of the room, but Bill smiles at her nonetheless and gladly accepts the packet of crisps she tosses into his lap. The packet crinkles obscenely as he opens it and Bill offers the bag to Tom before even picking one out for himself. “How are you doing so far? Are you feeling okay?”
Bill crams a couple of crisps into his mouth before he answers. “I’m okay,” he says through his chews. “Just been telling Tom how I’m bored and hungry though, and it’s only been half an hour so far.”
Simone rolls her eyes but she’s smiling; it’s been a long time since she’s ever seen Bill this bright, and whilst it seems ironic that he’s at his happiest whilst hooked up to multiple machines in hospital, she can’t help but let out a sigh of relief and cast Tom a thankful look because she’s positive it’s his influence.
A few minutes pass where Gordon disappears from the room to go search out two more chairs for himself and his wife, and then the four of them are all crammed into Bill’s room; Simone and Gordon chattering away to each other on tacky plastic chairs that screech when moved, and Tom perched on the edge of Bill’s bed, so close, but not close enough to him.
“So, is this how they took yours?” Bill asks finally, when the lull in conversation becomes too much for him in the small space. “Your blood, I mean.” He turns to Tom and his lips curl up at the side, though he tries to hide it by licking his lips to moisten them.
Tom returns the gesture before he answers, and it goes unnoticed by all except the one who was supposed to see it. “Kind of, yeah,” he replies, glancing down at his right hand and seeing the left over bruise that sits in the same place as Bill’s will. “Only, you know, the blood was going the other way - out, not in.”
At that, the smile on Bill’s face stretches further, all the way up to his eyes, and he bursts out into laughter. He leans forward, holding his stomach to keep himself still and eventually wipes at his eyes, breathing deeply to try calm himself. “Oh god,” he laughs, nearly breathless now.
“Jeez, Bill,” Tom comments, leaning forward and lifting Bill’s face up by tilting his chin. “You alright under there? I didn’t think it was that funny.”
Bill shrugs, but allows Tom to gently press him back against the bed, his laughter calming and he wipes his eyes a second time. “Man, I don’t know.” Bill closes his eyes, the odd chuckle still leaving his lips. “I didn’t think it was that funny either, to be honest. This stuff must’ve gone straight to my head.”
“Gee, thanks.” Tom sits back and folds his arms, faking offence.
“Tom.” Bill raises an eyebrow at his brother, but then he blinks his eyes open. “I feel really light-headed now, actually.”
“What?” Tom’s ears perk up at that and he sits up straight. “Are you alright? You’re not going to be sick or anything? Should I get a nurse?”
“Tom, dear,” Simone’s voice cuts through Tom’s panic and he looks around to find that she’s got up from her chair and is reaching over to pat his forearm. “It’s okay.” She turns to Bill. “Sweetie, do you want anything? I can go see if the nurse can give you some painkillers?”
Bill just nods his head slowly and gives her a thankful smile, before he turns to Tom as she leaves the room again. “I blame you completely for this,” he says, amused, narrowing his eyes at Tom playfully. He kicks out his foot so that it knocks against Tom’s side, and Tom just grabs his ankle and holds tight. “Hey, let go,” Bill laughs, bending his knee to try and lever his foot back, but Tom’s grip is firm - though still gentle - and soon Bill is chuckling again.
“Hey now, you said you wanted entertainment. I’m just-”
“Tom, dear,” he hears again, and he turns, startled, to see Simone and one of the nurses stood at the door. Simone’s face looks a little apprehensive, but the nurse is smiling at him and Tom is glad that one of them is humouring him. “I think you should move out of the way for a moment, let the nurse do her job.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” the nurse says as she enters the room and steps up beside the machine attached to Bill. “I only need to do a few routine checks, blood pressure, temperature, those kinds of things. Everyone is fine where they are.” The nurse, whose name tag reads Martha, smiles at Tom and Bill, and Tom shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant even though the thought of moving from his spot beside Bill does not sit well with him.
“Are you sure?” Simone checks, watching as Tom ducks his head to allow Martha to learn around him in order to get to Bill’s good arm.
“Positive,” Martha replies brightly. “It’s not often we see siblings like this at their age. It’s refreshing.” A machine beeps and Martha continues her work, recording measurements and then she departs with a friendly goodbye after giving Bill a couple painkillers and a large glass of water.
“You’ll feel better in no time, now, Billy,” Simone says gently, retaking her seat on the scratchy plastic chair. She sniffs quietly and delves into her handbag for a tissue.
By now, Tom has reluctantly released Bill’s ankle and replaced himself further down the bed, but when Simone sniffles again, both he and Bill turn their heads in her direction.
“Mum?” Bill asks quietly, reaching out his hand towards his mother.
“Careful,” she tells him firmly, putting his hand back down on the bed. “The last thing you want is to be pulling that needle out. I’m fine, really.” She wipes her face and moves her chair closer to Gordon’s, grabbing his hand in both of hers. “I’m just so proud of you both, is all. Don’t mind me, I’m okay.”
Bill just smiles gently at his mother and then he directs it at Tom. The smile tells Tom everything he wants to know, from Bill’s sincere thank you to his God, she’s going to set me off, soon. Letting out a small chuckle, Tom reaches forward and grabs Bill’s ankle again.
His smile says you’re welcome.
--
It’s three days later and to Bill, it feels like the calm after the storm. He sighs where he lays, in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets; wrapped up in Tom’s arms. The room is dark and it’s somewhere between midnight and the morning, Bill doesn’t know exactly when. He remembers Tom sneaking into his room not long after his parents went to bed, but after that it’s all a blur of not-so-innocent kisses and soothing words.
Now, Tom’s lips are moulded to Bill’s, his hands sat just under the flimsy material of Bill’s night shirt, resting on his hips; his thumbs are massaging the dips made by his hipbones and their legs are tangled at their ankles, Tom’s toes running over the smooth skin of Bill’s foot repeatedly.
“Mhmm,” Tom mumbles against Bill’s mouth, his fingers tangling themselves in a lock of thick, black hair. “Bill, Bill,” he coos, slowly detaching his lips from Bill’s until Bill’s lips are resting against the tip of his nose, refusing to let Tom go completely. “God, I can’t believe it.”
Bill chuckles against Tom’s skin, gently sliding his lips across the bridge of Tom’s nose to dot kisses all across his cheek. “What?” he asks, his intentions coy but his words laced with hidden confidence. “I like kissing, okay?”
“And I have absolutely no complaints about that,” Tom states, leaning back into give Bill a bit more of what he craves. Their lips touch and slide together momentarily, before Tom breaks their contact again. “I just don’t want to go too fast, you know?”
Bill chuckles again, but eventually he lets his lips disconnect from Tom’s face and he lets out a little contented sigh as he buries himself into Tom’s side, slinging his arm across Tom’s chest and drawing small patterns across his belly.
“We’re not doing,” Bill asserts. “I’d tell you if we were. I’m not an innocent little… thing, you know.” He prods Tom’s stomach affectionately. “I’ve had relationships and stuff before.”
“I never said you were anything but,” Tom returns, amused, stroking a hand over Bill’s head and shuffling down the bed to bring himself face to face with him. “But just tell me how you feel, okay? For my sake, if not your own.”
Bill nods sincerely and kisses Tom again, just a small peck on the lips, before he exhales through his nose and locks eyes with Tom. “I do have a question, though.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I don’t know anything about you. Anything important; I mean, I know what food you like for a takeout and your pain tolerance because you didn’t complain at having a couple pints of blood taken from you, but… about your life, I know next to nothing.”
Tom blinks. When he thinks about it, Bill has a point. Securing his physical connection with Bill by tickling just behind his ear, he asks, “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your home,” Bill says softly. “About your family and… our dad. Wow, that’s odd to say.”
Tom smiles at Bill and strokes his ear again. “Well, there isn’t that much to say. I still live with dad and my step-mum. Dad’s some kind of business man in the city, but other than that I don’t really know what he does, and Carol - my step-mum - is a hotel chef. Um, what else… We’ve got a dog, a black and white Pointer called Roscoe.”
“Aww,” Bill hums, “I love dogs.”
“I’m sure he’d love you, too,” Tom tells him, letting his hand fall from beside Bill’s ear until his fingers are trailing light patterns over his neck and down to his chest. Bill’s eyes flutter shut and he hums some more, little noises of contentment flowing from his throat as Tom’s fingers dance over his ribcage. “Maybe you’ll get to meet him one day.”
“Hmm, maybe,” Bill mutters, but his attention is more focused on the feather-light touches Tom is placing across his torso. He leans forward into the touches, pressing himself that little bit closer to Tom, desperate for the contact.
“You could maybe meet dad, too,” Tom adds on, finishing off the distance between them by shuffling forward until his chest touches Bill’s.
“Maybe,” Bill echoes, and then the thought is seemingly simultaneously dismissed as their lips collide again. Bill lets out another contented noise as he loops his fingers around the back of Tom’s neck and Tom’s fingers grip onto Bill’s hips that bit tighter. Their noses nudge together as they move, rocking slowly and gently against the other.
Bill’s head is light again but for a completely different reason this time as he kisses Tom. He feels pleasantly tingly all over, as if he could kiss Tom like this all night. His face his hot where it meets Tom’s, as is every other part of his being, and he’s sure his cheeks must be a fiery red by now. Tom’s hands are by his waist, his fingers pressing in just enough to feel satisfying but not to tickle.
“Oh, mm, Tom…” Bill’s voice is quiet against the shuffling on the bed as Tom moves to be carefully hovering over him. “Tom, wait.”
“You okay?” Tom asks, slowing his moves until only his lips are lightly kissing down Bill’s neck. Bill still has his arms around his neck but he’s less enthusiastic, his fingernails only lightly tickling him. “Bill?” He pauses. “Too fast?”
Bill gives him a small, apologetic smile. “Talk about ironic, right?”
Adversely, Tom shakes his head. “No, no it’s fine. Don’t worry about it at all.” He lowers himself down until he’s taken up his previous position again, lying by Bill’s side with their faces only centimetres apart.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Bill admits gingerly, averting his eyes from Tom’s and chuckling embarrassedly. “I just… you know.”
Tom grins and nudges a final kiss to Bill’s lips before he reaches down and grabs the covers to pull them over their bodies. He settles down beside his Bill, and Bill mirrors him. “I know.”
End Notes: Hi, guys, whilst I'm here, I'd just like to advertise to you a wonderful community on LiveJournal called thepurpledove. It's where people offer words/art/food/other things and others bid on them, and all the money goes towards helping LGBT teens. I'm offering Tokio Hotel fic, and I would love it if you checked it out, or checked any of the other amazing offers that are available.
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Author: littlemrstom
Pairing(s): Tom/Bill
Rating: R
Warnings: Adult content, Drug Use, Twincest
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; I own nothing but the plot.
Summary: After discovering a potentially dangerous problem following a traumatic car crash, Bill Trumper is left with only one option; a blood transfusion. Unfortunately for him, only a handful of people in the country have the same blood type, one of those people being his twin.
His twin who... doesn’t even know he exists.
Author's notes: Everyone give cookies to hysterichotel for helping me with the summary, and to ninaelisabeth for giving me the beautiful banner <3 I also promise that this fic is not gross or based around medical things, and no one is permanently hurt.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10
“I’m bored.”
Bill shifts on the stiff bed he’s been placed on, a lot lumpier than the one he’s used to using at home. The springs bounce audibly in the small, somewhat cramped room, but still Bill settles himself back against the lifted head and purses his lips.
“Already?” Tom asks, turning his head to look at Bill, sat beside him. The younger nods, a lopsided, half-smile sliding over his face. “In that case, if I were you, I’d get comfortable,” Tom tells him, amused, “you’re gonna be sat here for a while now.”
“Ugh, I know,” is Bill’s response, and Tom can’t help but chuckle. Looking momentarily away from Bill, he glances around the room, checking the door is still shut, before scooting further up the bed, a little closer to Bill. Their thighs bump when Tom finally stills, just a bit too close than would be considered brotherly, and after a second glance at the unlocked door, he brushes his fingers gently over the backs of Bill’s own fingers and presses a kiss to his forehead.
“You okay so far?”
Bill mimics Tom’s actions in checking the door before he leans forward and nuzzles his nose against Tom’s cheek. He nods slowly and smiles against Tom’s warm skin. “I’m good,” he replies, pulling away and focusing on the area where their legs touch. “This is going to take forever, isn’t it?”
Even though the question is rhetoric, Tom shrugs and casts the plastic bag hanging from a hook above their heads a scathing look. It’s filled with a deep red liquid that he can see dripping down through multiple tubes and funnels and wires, which all ultimately finish up in a needle that currently sits in the back of Bill’s hand, cushioned by a slowly purpling patch of skin. Tom wants to stroke his fingers across it, wants to try and wipe the ugly bruise away, though he knows he can’t risk touching anything for Bill’s sake.
“I wonder where mum and Gordon are with my crisps.” Bill’s voice interrupts Tom’s pondering and Tom can’t help but laugh out loud. “What?” Bill asks. “I’m bored and hungry. You’re meant to be entertaining me, you know, because as you said yourself, I’m gonna be sat here for a while.”
“So am I, though?” Tom offers, his sentence phrased as a joke but completely serious. “I’m gonna stay here with you the whole time.”
At that, Bill’s stomach flips and flops, the butterflies that have seemingly decided to take up permanent residence in there fluttering happily inside him. He shoots the door a quick glance before he leans in and presses his lips to Tom’s in the briefest of kisses, though it’s long enough to catch Tom off guard.
When Bill pulls away, his face meek, Tom smiles at him somewhat dopily. It is the smallest of gestures, but to both of them it it’s a sign of something much bigger; for Bill, the confidence he wants to know he possesses over his budding relationship, and for Tom, the reassurance that Bill honestly reflects everything he feels.
There’s a twinkle in Tom’s eye that Bill can see, though before he can open his mouth to comment on it, Simone’s voice trails in underneath the closed door and he bites back a sigh. Tom begrudgingly shuffles back on the bed, giving Bill’s fingers one last stroke before the door opens and Simone and Gordon enter.
“Hey, Billy.” Simone’s voice is bright, maybe a little too bright for the capacity and atmosphere of the room, but Bill smiles at her nonetheless and gladly accepts the packet of crisps she tosses into his lap. The packet crinkles obscenely as he opens it and Bill offers the bag to Tom before even picking one out for himself. “How are you doing so far? Are you feeling okay?”
Bill crams a couple of crisps into his mouth before he answers. “I’m okay,” he says through his chews. “Just been telling Tom how I’m bored and hungry though, and it’s only been half an hour so far.”
Simone rolls her eyes but she’s smiling; it’s been a long time since she’s ever seen Bill this bright, and whilst it seems ironic that he’s at his happiest whilst hooked up to multiple machines in hospital, she can’t help but let out a sigh of relief and cast Tom a thankful look because she’s positive it’s his influence.
A few minutes pass where Gordon disappears from the room to go search out two more chairs for himself and his wife, and then the four of them are all crammed into Bill’s room; Simone and Gordon chattering away to each other on tacky plastic chairs that screech when moved, and Tom perched on the edge of Bill’s bed, so close, but not close enough to him.
“So, is this how they took yours?” Bill asks finally, when the lull in conversation becomes too much for him in the small space. “Your blood, I mean.” He turns to Tom and his lips curl up at the side, though he tries to hide it by licking his lips to moisten them.
Tom returns the gesture before he answers, and it goes unnoticed by all except the one who was supposed to see it. “Kind of, yeah,” he replies, glancing down at his right hand and seeing the left over bruise that sits in the same place as Bill’s will. “Only, you know, the blood was going the other way - out, not in.”
At that, the smile on Bill’s face stretches further, all the way up to his eyes, and he bursts out into laughter. He leans forward, holding his stomach to keep himself still and eventually wipes at his eyes, breathing deeply to try calm himself. “Oh god,” he laughs, nearly breathless now.
“Jeez, Bill,” Tom comments, leaning forward and lifting Bill’s face up by tilting his chin. “You alright under there? I didn’t think it was that funny.”
Bill shrugs, but allows Tom to gently press him back against the bed, his laughter calming and he wipes his eyes a second time. “Man, I don’t know.” Bill closes his eyes, the odd chuckle still leaving his lips. “I didn’t think it was that funny either, to be honest. This stuff must’ve gone straight to my head.”
“Gee, thanks.” Tom sits back and folds his arms, faking offence.
“Tom.” Bill raises an eyebrow at his brother, but then he blinks his eyes open. “I feel really light-headed now, actually.”
“What?” Tom’s ears perk up at that and he sits up straight. “Are you alright? You’re not going to be sick or anything? Should I get a nurse?”
“Tom, dear,” Simone’s voice cuts through Tom’s panic and he looks around to find that she’s got up from her chair and is reaching over to pat his forearm. “It’s okay.” She turns to Bill. “Sweetie, do you want anything? I can go see if the nurse can give you some painkillers?”
Bill just nods his head slowly and gives her a thankful smile, before he turns to Tom as she leaves the room again. “I blame you completely for this,” he says, amused, narrowing his eyes at Tom playfully. He kicks out his foot so that it knocks against Tom’s side, and Tom just grabs his ankle and holds tight. “Hey, let go,” Bill laughs, bending his knee to try and lever his foot back, but Tom’s grip is firm - though still gentle - and soon Bill is chuckling again.
“Hey now, you said you wanted entertainment. I’m just-”
“Tom, dear,” he hears again, and he turns, startled, to see Simone and one of the nurses stood at the door. Simone’s face looks a little apprehensive, but the nurse is smiling at him and Tom is glad that one of them is humouring him. “I think you should move out of the way for a moment, let the nurse do her job.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” the nurse says as she enters the room and steps up beside the machine attached to Bill. “I only need to do a few routine checks, blood pressure, temperature, those kinds of things. Everyone is fine where they are.” The nurse, whose name tag reads Martha, smiles at Tom and Bill, and Tom shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant even though the thought of moving from his spot beside Bill does not sit well with him.
“Are you sure?” Simone checks, watching as Tom ducks his head to allow Martha to learn around him in order to get to Bill’s good arm.
“Positive,” Martha replies brightly. “It’s not often we see siblings like this at their age. It’s refreshing.” A machine beeps and Martha continues her work, recording measurements and then she departs with a friendly goodbye after giving Bill a couple painkillers and a large glass of water.
“You’ll feel better in no time, now, Billy,” Simone says gently, retaking her seat on the scratchy plastic chair. She sniffs quietly and delves into her handbag for a tissue.
By now, Tom has reluctantly released Bill’s ankle and replaced himself further down the bed, but when Simone sniffles again, both he and Bill turn their heads in her direction.
“Mum?” Bill asks quietly, reaching out his hand towards his mother.
“Careful,” she tells him firmly, putting his hand back down on the bed. “The last thing you want is to be pulling that needle out. I’m fine, really.” She wipes her face and moves her chair closer to Gordon’s, grabbing his hand in both of hers. “I’m just so proud of you both, is all. Don’t mind me, I’m okay.”
Bill just smiles gently at his mother and then he directs it at Tom. The smile tells Tom everything he wants to know, from Bill’s sincere thank you to his God, she’s going to set me off, soon. Letting out a small chuckle, Tom reaches forward and grabs Bill’s ankle again.
His smile says you’re welcome.
--
It’s three days later and to Bill, it feels like the calm after the storm. He sighs where he lays, in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets; wrapped up in Tom’s arms. The room is dark and it’s somewhere between midnight and the morning, Bill doesn’t know exactly when. He remembers Tom sneaking into his room not long after his parents went to bed, but after that it’s all a blur of not-so-innocent kisses and soothing words.
Now, Tom’s lips are moulded to Bill’s, his hands sat just under the flimsy material of Bill’s night shirt, resting on his hips; his thumbs are massaging the dips made by his hipbones and their legs are tangled at their ankles, Tom’s toes running over the smooth skin of Bill’s foot repeatedly.
“Mhmm,” Tom mumbles against Bill’s mouth, his fingers tangling themselves in a lock of thick, black hair. “Bill, Bill,” he coos, slowly detaching his lips from Bill’s until Bill’s lips are resting against the tip of his nose, refusing to let Tom go completely. “God, I can’t believe it.”
Bill chuckles against Tom’s skin, gently sliding his lips across the bridge of Tom’s nose to dot kisses all across his cheek. “What?” he asks, his intentions coy but his words laced with hidden confidence. “I like kissing, okay?”
“And I have absolutely no complaints about that,” Tom states, leaning back into give Bill a bit more of what he craves. Their lips touch and slide together momentarily, before Tom breaks their contact again. “I just don’t want to go too fast, you know?”
Bill chuckles again, but eventually he lets his lips disconnect from Tom’s face and he lets out a little contented sigh as he buries himself into Tom’s side, slinging his arm across Tom’s chest and drawing small patterns across his belly.
“We’re not doing,” Bill asserts. “I’d tell you if we were. I’m not an innocent little… thing, you know.” He prods Tom’s stomach affectionately. “I’ve had relationships and stuff before.”
“I never said you were anything but,” Tom returns, amused, stroking a hand over Bill’s head and shuffling down the bed to bring himself face to face with him. “But just tell me how you feel, okay? For my sake, if not your own.”
Bill nods sincerely and kisses Tom again, just a small peck on the lips, before he exhales through his nose and locks eyes with Tom. “I do have a question, though.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I don’t know anything about you. Anything important; I mean, I know what food you like for a takeout and your pain tolerance because you didn’t complain at having a couple pints of blood taken from you, but… about your life, I know next to nothing.”
Tom blinks. When he thinks about it, Bill has a point. Securing his physical connection with Bill by tickling just behind his ear, he asks, “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your home,” Bill says softly. “About your family and… our dad. Wow, that’s odd to say.”
Tom smiles at Bill and strokes his ear again. “Well, there isn’t that much to say. I still live with dad and my step-mum. Dad’s some kind of business man in the city, but other than that I don’t really know what he does, and Carol - my step-mum - is a hotel chef. Um, what else… We’ve got a dog, a black and white Pointer called Roscoe.”
“Aww,” Bill hums, “I love dogs.”
“I’m sure he’d love you, too,” Tom tells him, letting his hand fall from beside Bill’s ear until his fingers are trailing light patterns over his neck and down to his chest. Bill’s eyes flutter shut and he hums some more, little noises of contentment flowing from his throat as Tom’s fingers dance over his ribcage. “Maybe you’ll get to meet him one day.”
“Hmm, maybe,” Bill mutters, but his attention is more focused on the feather-light touches Tom is placing across his torso. He leans forward into the touches, pressing himself that little bit closer to Tom, desperate for the contact.
“You could maybe meet dad, too,” Tom adds on, finishing off the distance between them by shuffling forward until his chest touches Bill’s.
“Maybe,” Bill echoes, and then the thought is seemingly simultaneously dismissed as their lips collide again. Bill lets out another contented noise as he loops his fingers around the back of Tom’s neck and Tom’s fingers grip onto Bill’s hips that bit tighter. Their noses nudge together as they move, rocking slowly and gently against the other.
Bill’s head is light again but for a completely different reason this time as he kisses Tom. He feels pleasantly tingly all over, as if he could kiss Tom like this all night. His face his hot where it meets Tom’s, as is every other part of his being, and he’s sure his cheeks must be a fiery red by now. Tom’s hands are by his waist, his fingers pressing in just enough to feel satisfying but not to tickle.
“Oh, mm, Tom…” Bill’s voice is quiet against the shuffling on the bed as Tom moves to be carefully hovering over him. “Tom, wait.”
“You okay?” Tom asks, slowing his moves until only his lips are lightly kissing down Bill’s neck. Bill still has his arms around his neck but he’s less enthusiastic, his fingernails only lightly tickling him. “Bill?” He pauses. “Too fast?”
Bill gives him a small, apologetic smile. “Talk about ironic, right?”
Adversely, Tom shakes his head. “No, no it’s fine. Don’t worry about it at all.” He lowers himself down until he’s taken up his previous position again, lying by Bill’s side with their faces only centimetres apart.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Bill admits gingerly, averting his eyes from Tom’s and chuckling embarrassedly. “I just… you know.”
Tom grins and nudges a final kiss to Bill’s lips before he reaches down and grabs the covers to pull them over their bodies. He settles down beside his Bill, and Bill mirrors him. “I know.”
End Notes: Hi, guys, whilst I'm here, I'd just like to advertise to you a wonderful community on LiveJournal called thepurpledove. It's where people offer words/art/food/other things and others bid on them, and all the money goes towards helping LGBT teens. I'm offering Tokio Hotel fic, and I would love it if you checked it out, or checked any of the other amazing offers that are available.
To go straight to my offer, however, you can just click the picture.