diamondicecream (diamondicecream) wrote,

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Tokio Hotel: Sex, Lies, & Videotape 9/??

Title: Sex, Lies, & Videotape: Chapter 9/20(ish) - Sex
Genre: Slash
Characters: Andreas, Bill Kaulitz, David Jost, Georg Listing, Gustav Schafer, OMC, Simone Trumper, Tom Kaulitz
Pairing: Bill/Tom, Bill/OMC, Bill/Andi, Tom/OMC
Rating: NC17
Category: AU, Angst, Drama, Twincest
Words (in chapter): 5287
Warning: Abuse, Adult Content, Bondage, Cross Dressing, Heavy Kink, Humiliation, Incest, Minor Character Death, Non-Con/Rape, Pedophilia, Uder-Age Erotica, Violence, WIP
Summary: Simone receives mysterious videotapes in the mail of her twins. How will the family deal with the content of the tapes, and will they all survive the aftermath?
Note: By far my darkest fic EVER. This story stemmed from one lyric in the song Liar, Liar by The Used. I've never written anything with this type of content before.

Simone’s coffee was growing cold on the small table next to the sofa. She was seated in the living room with another brown package on the cushion next to her. She’d received it the day before, but had decided to hold onto it for awhile. It was still sealed and she had no desire to open this one. How many more tapes were going to rip her family into more shreds? There had to be a way to stop all of this without injuring her boys further. She was running out of ideas that wouldn’t end up in a town-wide scandal, once again, starring one or more members of her family. One scandal was enough to last a lifetime.

The details about her late husband’s death had never been fully clarified to anyone in the town, although they’d speculated and spread vicious rumours. Millions in debt from gambling... Caught with a prostitute shooting heroin... Fired for sleeping with the boss’ daughter.... Hanging in his closet with a belt around his throat and his slacks around his ankles... Found in the pool unconscious... Wrists sliced open in the bathtub... The twin’s father had taken his own life by putting a gun to his head. Simone had never understood why he’d done it. That is, until now. She understood all too clearly now what had been so confusing back then. She had been married to a very sick man.

Moisture dampened her cheeks. She’d spent more than half her life with a stranger. A man who abused and ruined two beautiful little boys. His own little boys. Cold fury ran through her bones as she wished she could have been the one to pull the trigger. She would have too if he hadn’t beaten her to the quick, she would have tied him up and did to him everything he’d made the boys do. Simone would have tortured him in the same manner he’d hurt their sons. Sons.

Had he still been alive when she found out, she would have sliced his manhood off with a rusty, jagged knife. A man like him deserved a much slower and more painful death rather than the quick and cowardly ending he’d given himself. Her only solace was knowing he was in Hell and hopefully suffering a worse fate than anything she could imagine. Maybe he was forced to be skinned daily with his skin slowly peeled back from muscles, muscles from bone, until finally he was only a pile of ash and ground up bone. Then, the process could start over again.

Simone wiped her eyes, choosing to give the package to Bill and Tom, it wasn’t hers to keep. They could do whatever they wanted with it. She didn’t know what else could be contained on the tapes, and she didn’t want to know. All three members of her family needed help, and she knew it. She just didn’t know how to obtain the help they all so desperately needed. The boys wouldn’t talk to her, she doubted they’d talk to a professional. Would talking about it even help any of them?

Leaving her coffee forgotten on the side table, she carried the envelope up to the boy’s bedroom. It was early yet, the sun only just risen, and not wanting to wake either of her twins, she simply left the package by their door. One or the other of them would find it and if she didn’t leave within the next few minutes, she’d end up being late for work.


A rough licking on his nose awoke Tom from a restless sleep. Muffins, the newly found kitten of Georg and Gustav’s, was demanding attention. With a smile that turned into a yawn, he sat up, scooping the tiny animal into his arms, scratching her chin. He was rewarded with a purr vibrating her body. Grinning, Tom tickled her ears then gently set her on the floor. She mewled at him and scampered off.
Last night was fuzzy and he was having a hard time remembering why he found himself waking in the guestroom at his friend’s house. He could remember relaying bits and pieces of the fight he’d had with his twin. He could also remember smoking at the behest of his friends, downing drink after drink of vodka at their urgings. In their minds, the solution to everything that was wrong in the world had been clear: drink vodka and smoke marijuana. Never wanting to disappoint his best friends, Tom had readily agreed. They’d spent the evening imbibing alcohol and inhaling herbs.

The headache behind his eyes and the queasy stomach impressed upon him a self-promise to never listen to either one of his friends ever again. The activities of the previous night may not have been the wisest response to the drama with his brother.

His mobile beeped at him from its position on the nightstand next to the bed. The short beep indicated a low battery. Reaching over, he snatched his phone up to check his messages for the first time since leaving his house. He found two missed calls, the first was from his mother, late in the evening, and the other was from Bill at three o’clock in the morning. Why would Bill have called in the middle of the night?

Dread was seeping into his pores as he dialed his voicemail to listen to the messages. His mother’s voice filled his ears as the first message played.

“Tom, I’m...

I love you...

Her voice was strained, cracking with every small word she uttered. The message she left was unsteady and she never did manage to get out much more than a rushed “I love you”. A click announced the end of the message and a robotic voice instructed him to press buttons to either save the voicemail or delete it. Pressing the key to delete the message, he threw the covers off in preparation of getting up after he listened to Bill’s message. He hadn’t meant to stay the night with his friends.

The next message was Bill, just as Tom knew it would be. His twin’s voice was thick with sleep and frantic with fear laced into every single word. He’d had a nightmare, Tom could understand that much of what Bill was saying, however, there were so many sniffles it was hard to discern most of the message. Bill carried on for a few minutes. The dream had been so real. Where was tom? Why hadn’t he come home? The crying session was mostly about the absence of tom and went on for a good few minutes.

Tom listened intently to every word his brother moaned on the voicemail. He saved the voicemail when it was finally over.

Snapping his phone closed, Tom got up quickly, scanning the room for his shoes and hoody. He needed to get home, Bill had needed him and he hadn’t been there for him. He’d failed to provide the comfort his brother had requested of him and it made Tom’s gut ache.

The kitten squeaked at him from her perch on the pillow he’d been using. She was tiny, solid black except for a diamond tuft of hair on her left ear, which was white. Pausing in his quest for shoes, he sat on the bed and picked the small animal up. Cradling her in his arms, he nuzzled against her nose and she purred loudly, pawing at his eyelashes. “I’ve got to go kitty.”

After setting her back on the pillow, he reached under the edge of the bed for his shoes. The hoody he’d been wearing was on the opposite side of the bed, half hidden by the comforter he’d thrown off earlier. Shrugging into the hoody, he scanned the room once more to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything.

He shot a quick text message to his friends, briefly explaining to the sleeping boys that he’d left early, Bill had needed him, and he’d be back later. The text thanked them for allowing him to crash at their place. It also held complaints and blame for the pounding inside his skull and the nausea in his gut.

Tom hushed his way through the house, tiptoeing over forgotten toys in the hall, stepping quietly over a sleeping cat near the door, so he didn’t wake anyone. He slipped silently out the front door and scurried across the lawn to the SUV sitting at the curbside. The grass crunched underfoot with every step he took. Shivering from the freezing morning air he unlocked the vehicle he shared with Bill and hopped in, starting it quickly. A thin sheet of frost covered all of the windows making it difficult to see through the glass.

The cold seasons needed to move quicker to become warm again, or Summer needed to stay longer, keeping the wintry weather at bay. Either way, the chilling cold needed to go away, it was depressing, and cold. Ages later, the car was warmed up and ready to be driven without much complaint. Tom kept breathing into his balled fists periodically. Even though the heat was turned on and all the way up, his fingers felt frostbitten. Gloves. He needed gloves.

Driving home didn’t take nearly enough time in comparison to the amount of time it took to simply warm the car up. The interior had only enough time to gain a few degrees in temperature when he was already turning the car onto his street. Feeling jipped out of something, Tom threw the car into park and got out in a rush. Irrationally, he kicked at the tire, something needed to be punished for the cold weather.

Just past six in the morning, Tom headed up the walk to the front door. His mother should have already left the house for work. The keys jangled in his loose fist as he skipped a concrete step to get on the porch. Unlocking the door, he let himself inside the warm house, praying his mother wasn’t home, or if she was, he hoped she would still be sleeping. Seeing that Simone’s coat was missing from the coat rack, Tom let a sigh of relief breathe out of him. No questions.

Simone deserved an apology from her son. Tom knew she deserved one for the way he’d treated her and for the things he’d said. But, on the same page, he had wanted her to feel an inkling of what he and Bill had felt and had been feeling ever since they were thirteen: pain. He wanted her to hurt just as they hurt. She needed to understand what was wrong with them couldn’t be fixed by her gaining more knowledge about what had gone on. If their mother couldn’t understand that, then Tom felt she needed a visual aid to help her understand. That visual aid had come in the form of him screaming at her. Blurting out truths about a secret that never should have seen the light of day. For that, he was truly sorry, because in his careless anger, he’d hurt his brother far worse than he’d ever meant to. Bill had been hurt even more so than their mother.

Draping his hoody on the coat rack, Tom toed off his shoes by the door. Quietly, he trudged up the stairs, shoes in hand, jeans swishing with each step. Bill would still be asleep, he figured, especially after the events of the previous day. Upon reaching the landing of the stairs, he spotted the package Simone had left for them outside their bedroom door. Fear plopped down in his belly and he stopped cold. Which tape was it?

Tucking his shoes under his arm, he carefully lifted the envelope from the floor, turning it over in his hands trying to find any additional markings that might help identify the sender. It was the same as all of the others, though, blank with no return address and no secrets revealed about its origin. It was as if the videos were appearing out of thin air, with nothing more than a postage stamp on them, and that was one of the most frustrating things of all. There was no way to prevent the tapes from coming and there was no way to prevent the morbid curiosity prodding him to stick the tape in the VCR. It was sick the way he wanted to watch what was on it. Sick.

Quiet as a mouse, he twisted the knob on his bedroom door and prayed it wouldn’t squeak to announce he was home. Thankfully the door didn’t betray him as he opened it wide, pausing at the sight before him. Bill wasn’t in his own bed, but instead was in Tom’s. Why was Bill in his bed? Had the dream been so terrifying that he couldn’t even remain in his own bed? The thought curled the hair on the back of Tom’s neck and his gut swam in guilt.

Tom stared for a few moments noticing his brother was curled tight under the cover. Bill had probably been in that same position for most of the night. When Bill would sleep, it was sometimes hard to tell if the boy was breathing he was so still. The only time he’d move in his sleep would be when his dreams were nightmares and terror bled sweat from his pores.

Sighing, Tom broke the stare and crossed the room to set the envelope on the desk in the far corner, dropping his shoes to the floor in front of the desk. He’d open it later, if ever. It was too early to contemplate the contents of such a video and he needed a shower. The scent of alcohol, cigarettes, and weed clung to his skin and clothes.

Grabbing a towel from the shelf in his closet, and some clothes from his drawers, he padded out of the room just as quietly as he entered it. In the bathroom he undressed slowly thinking about his twin. There wasn’t anything he could do for his brother at the moment, and he was sorely in need of a shower. His head was still pounding and Tom wished he could have gotten something to drink before coming upstairs. Eyeing the faucet of the sink, he contemplated quenching his thirst with bathroom tap water. He’d wait until later.

Once in the shower he lingered, letting the hot water run over his shoulders, down his back and chest. It was so nice with the warmth spreading throughout his cold, aching limbs.. The water pounded hard against his skin in just the right amount of force, thawing his body from the outside in. Standing under the spray, forehead resting against the cool tile of the shower, Tom replayed the voicemail from Bill in his mind.

Thunking his head against the tiles, Tom berated himself. He should have been there for his baby brother during his nightmare. He’d failed in his big brother duties. Letting Bill down was something he hadn't wanted to do again.

Venturing back into their shared bedroom, clad only in boxers and a cotton t-shirt, jeans hanging over his forearm, Tom paused again to examine his brother, still asleep in Tom’s bed. Bill’s hair was getting longer. That was the first thing Tom noticed about his twin, who was lying on his stomach, one arm hidden under his body, the other tucked under his head. He’d shifted slightly from his earlier position of a tight ball. Tom wondered if his brother ever woke with stiff muscles from his lack of movement through the night.

He was once again unsure if his twin was breathing. Worry snaked through his mind, had Bill taken too many sleeping pills? He crept softly to the bed and gently moved a few strands of hair, which were covering Bill's face. Not so much as a twitch moved in Bill as Tom trailed his fingers over his brother’s cheek. Holding fingers near Bill’s mouth and nose, he felt for breath leaving the sleeping boy’s lungs. One…two…three…four….

After satisfying himself that Bill was breathing, he knelt by the bedside and stroked the other boy’s hair. Bill was so messed up. There had to be something Tom could do to fix it. To fix them both. There had to be some way of purging their past and starting anew with a bright and clear future.

As he watched Bill sleeping, he couldn’t help the feeling of superiority to Andi coming over him in that single moment. This was a privilege he got to relish and it was something that Andi could not have. Andi could only dream about shared moments like this, whereas Tom could sit and watch his brother sleep for hours uninterrupted. He could climb on the bed and snuggle under the covers if he really wanted to. For now, Bill’s friend was without immediate access to Bill. Tom hoped that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

Tom was terrified that the blonde, with his charm and wit, would steal away his brother. He’d capture Bill’s innocence, or what was left of it, and make off with it like a thief in the night. The seductive wiles were hard to resist. Tom had to admit he’d been attracted to the younger boy the first time they’d met as well. He couldn’t fault his brother that much for falling for him. Tom had been attracted to Andi until he’d revealed his cunning ways and hidden agendas. Andi wanted to bed Bill, and not much else, of that, Tom was sure. He refused to think about what would happen if his little brother fell prey to Andi’s pretty, but deceitful, lies.

Thankful that he was able to see through everything that the blonde was portraying to be, Tom had tried to save his twin to from admiring their new friend. They had argued on a near constant basis for several weeks after meeting the younger boy, but all the arguments had seemed to accomplish was give Bill cause to run further into the sticky web of manipulation and trickery. Tom traced Bill’s jaw line with his thumb as he remembered the first few weeks of having Andi in their lives.

When the twins were pulled from school it had been a mixed blessing and a curse. Thankfully, they were no longer having to spend additional time with Andi, but instead, they were forced into a more terrible fate of having to spend more time with their father. If things could be changed, Tom would gladly accept the extra time with Andi instead of time with their father. He’d walk Bill down the aisle and give him away to the other boy if it meant they wouldn’t have been forced into the sex games and abuse. Perhaps Bill being seduced by Andi would have been less cruel than what they had had to suffer through, but in its own way, it would have been just as twisted.

Snuggling deeper into the blankets, Bill made a cocoon for himself. Tom watched his brother sleep and tilted his head, thinking how that would be the perfect escape for them; a cocoon in the bedding, creating their own world in its shadows. A world where they weren’t broken and their hearts weren’t seconds away from turning to ash. A world where it was okay to love each other as brothers, as friends, and if necessary, as lovers, only without the taint of nasty memories. A world where the past meant nothing and was long forgotten. Somewhere peaceful.

If they wanted to touch each other in this world, they could, and it’d be beautiful because it’d be what they wanted. If they didn’t want to touch each other, that was okay too, and there wouldn’t be any harsh repercussions. No bruises or scars, no broken spirits or abused souls. If they wanted to sit and hold each other for a million years without ever letting one another go, well, they could do that too. They could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, because they had each other and they had their own world and no one could judge them for what they had or had not done. No one could manipulate them, force them into things they didn’t want to do, demand behaviours they didn’t have the courage to say no to. In this world, they wouldn’t hurt.

Before he knew what he was doing, Tom’s mouth was inching closer to his brother’s. His lips were connecting with his sleeping twin’s lips. Closer, tighter. Lips stinging from the exhilaration flying through his system, Tom cupped Bill’s cheek and deepened the kiss, tongue slipping past lips and over teeth. Every nerve in his body was on fire. Was this wrong? Tom pulled away and looked at Bill’s lips. They glistened with saliva and Tom joined their mouths together again.

Sighing into the kiss, Bill cracked an eye open, and Tom’s nose obscured his vision, the feel of Tom’s lips on his own drowned his senses. The hand that was hidden under his body escaped the covers and groped around Tom’s waist pulling the kneeling boy closer. Tom groaned into the kiss as his body was jerked forward and his hips were pressed against the side of the mattress.

Pushing at Bill with his mouth, Tom moved his brother back on the bed, allowing himself room to crawl onto it with his twin. Their mouths moved together, tongues lapping, lips slick with saliva. As Tom angled his way onto the bed, Bill spread his legs, inviting his brother to sink in-between them. Familiarity sparked through every bit of body that joined together. Moaning into his brother’s mouth, Bill’s fingers dug against Tom’s scalp, crushing their lips together, their bodies closer, deeper, hips grinding together through the blanket that separated them.

Lips left lips and found themselves a path along jawbone, over throat, sizzling every inch of skin they touched. Bill arched his neck, delighting in the tingles the kisses were leaving along his throat. Pants and soft moans filled their room, bouncing off walls and landing loudly in Bill’s ears. The sound of breath against his skin pulsed against his temples. Everything was electric. He could see the sound waves moving around their writhing bodies. It was magnificent.

Tom’s teeth left beautiful bruises along his brother’s collar bone. Mine. He nibbled against the sensitive area behind Bill’s ear, whispered against the shell, “don’t fuck Andi,” sucked the lobe between his teeth, rolling the flesh roughly.

Pushing against his twin’s chest, Bill paused Tom’s movements. “I...I haven’t...” he stuttered, trying to get into words that he’d been too scared to go past a bit of petting with his friend. He didn’t want to go further with his friend. He wanted...Tom caressed Bill’s cheek and fell on his lips again. Tom believed him.

Bill clawed at Tom’s shirt, yanking it over his head. Dreads bounced against Bill’s bare chest. Where was his shirt? Wait, Tom’s shirt. Where was Tom’s shirt, the one he’d gone to bed in? His chest was nude, nipples perked. A thin layer of goose flesh covered his skin and he shivered with Tom’s eyes glued to his exposed body.

Melting into Bill as his own shirt was tossed to the floor, Tom felt home. Flesh on flesh, their mouths reattached, tongues dancing merrily. Hips arched and fought for release, bodies bursting with pent up need. Home.


Tom’s head snapped up, his fist was still pumping hard around his stiff and aching dick. The water had run cold. He shivered, biting his lip, as release found him suddenly and splattered against the tile wall. Tugging softly a few moments more, he prolonged the tingles tickling up and down his spine. His legs were weak, hair standing on end all over his body. How long had he been in the shower?

Coherency came back as he looked down and realized what he’d been doing in his once nice, hot showed. The daydream flooded back: slick skin, breathless bodies, limbs entwined. Kisses, caresses, licks. Flushing, he clamped a hand over his mouth and ripped the shower curtain open. Leaning over the edge of the tub, he spat bile into the toilet next to the shower and his legs gave out. He fell to his knees inside the tub and continued retching. He’d been fantasizing about his brother. Sick.

He flushed the toilet and leant his head against the cool marble of the tub edge, taking deep breaths. Throat burning from the bile, Tom pushed the palms of his hands against his eyes, hard. So wrong. There was so much wrong with what had just happened to him.

Standing, legs protesting the weight, he grabbed his towel from the floor. Stepping from the shower, he dried off as quickly as possible. Not caring that he was still damp, he threw his clothes on and yanked his thick dreads into a loose pony tail and added his cap haphazardly, before stepping into shoes.

Slathering his toothbrush in paste, Tom brushed his teeth until his gums bled. He needed out of the house. The air was too thick, the guilt too raw. Spitting in the sink, he turned the tap on to wash it down the drain before rushing from the bathroom.

Jogging down the stairs, he didn’t allow himself to look through their still open bedroom door to see if Bill had risen. The fantasy was still playing in his mind as he pulled on his hoody and slammed the front door behind him. It reeled in his mind like a sick and twisted movie. His face flushed as he backed out of the drive. He’d fantasized about Bill. His brother. His twin. He was fucked up.


Bill moaned, his stupid phone was making that hideous noise again. The angry tinkling of the wind chiming birds chirped at him. “Fuckin’, Andi,” he mumbled against his pillow. Groping sleepily, he reached for his phone on Tom’s nightstand. Tom’s nightstand. Bill was instantly wide awake, sitting straight up in his brother’s bed, his brother’s shirt. His eyes automatically shot to his own bed to see if his twin had possibly slept there, since he obviously wasn’t in his own bed, but no, it was still untouched. Tom had never come home. Bill’s shoulders slumped. He thought for sure Tom would have been home by now.

As he sat in Tom's bed looking around their room, he smiled. Bill wasn't quite sure what was different about today, but today was a day worth smiling for. Maybe it was sleeping in Tom's bed, or his shirt. Maybe he'd had a pleasant dream that was now rumbling around in his subconscious chasing away the traces of the bad one he'd had before. He tugged at his lip as he tried to remember either dream. He could only smile, but a vague inkling of having called someone in the middle of the night was nagging at the back of his mind overshadowing his smiles.

He’d had a nightmare. He knew he'd had a nightmare. Nightmares were a frequent occurrence. Flipping his phone open he ignored Andi’s texts and opened his recent calls. Sure enough, at 3:07a.m., he’d called his brother and he couldn’t remember a single word he’d said. He couldn’t even recall the nightmare clearly now. He smiled again.

He sighed and flopped back on the bed, letting his cell phone fall to his chest before remembering he had unread texts from his friend. Picking the phone back up, he flipped it open and saw he had five new text messages waiting for him. All of which were from Andi.

I hope you’re okay today.

I’m ditching school. Let’s hang.

Are you awake yet?

Can I come over?


Bill sighed. What was he going to do with his friend? Before sending a reply, he got out of bed to make sure he was alone in the house. Maybe Tom had come home, but hadn’t slept in their room. Another reason to check the house was to see if his mother was still home. He didn’t want Andi coming over if Simone had stayed home from work again. It’d be too awkward.

Wandering through all of the rooms, including the attic and basement, he found he was completely alone. Figuring Andi was free to come over if he wished, Bill texted him back letting him know to come over soon. His mom was at work and Tom had apparently never come home, and probably wouldn’t come home today, they’d been fighting again. The tinkling began shortly after hitting send and Bill was pleased to see he’d have company in less than a half hour.

Thinking it best to attempt a semblance of composure today, Bill showered quickly, noticing the damp rug in front of the tub, and Tom's clothes on the floor. He had come home, but he hadn't stayed. Bill was crestfallen as he contemplated reasons his brother wouldn't have stayed home. Maybe he was still pissed about their fight. Later. He'd think later.

After his shower he headed back into his room with a fluffy towel wrapped around his body. Meticulously ignoring all mirrors he passed, he entered his closet and pulled a thin cotton sweater from his side and black jeans from one of his drawers. Dropping the towel, he changed in the closet, while doing so, he eyed the makeup sitting atop his dresser. He felt bad for abandoning his makeup for so long. Examining the shadows and liners neatly arranged, he drummed his fingers against his hips. Maybe just a little bit today. Tricky, since he was avoiding mirrors.

Choosing the smallest compact on the dresser, he scooped up the makeup and took it to his bed, depositing it all onto his comforter before padding back to his dresser. His feet were freezing and were in desperate need of socks. After grabbing a pair of plain, black socks from his top drawer, Bill went back to his bed and put them on. When he was done, he crossed his legs under him and picked up the liner and mirror. Maybe the mirror would behave today.

Taking a deep breath, Bill opened the compact and held it at eye level. It was possible, if he couldn’t see his whole face all at once, that the mirror might cooperate and leave his feelings untouched, his mind free of taunts. So far so good. Charcoal coated his upper and lower lash line. As soon as his first eye was complete he instantly felt one with his own skin again. He lined the other eye in the same fashion. As he picked up the shadow, he felt is world align into place. Clicking open the makeup, Bill rubbed the small brush in the dark, sparkling powder. He held the mirror steady, thankful his eye was still his, and painted his lids. Bill. As he finished, the doorbell rang and his phone buzzed in his lap. Andi had arrived.

Tags: andreas, angst, bill kaulitz, dark, david jost, drama, georg listing, gustav schafer, longfic, omc, sex lies & videotape, simone trumper, tokio hotel, tom kaulitz
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