snowstormskies: (Pretty Tom)
[personal profile] snowstormskies

Title: Restricted Freedom

Author: SnowStormSkies

Universe: Tokio Hotel (Real Person Fiction).

Theme/Topic: Total Power Exchange, a close examination.

Rating: M.

Characters: Bill and Tom focused.

Warnings/Spoilers: Incest, BDSM, punishment, spanking, total power exchange.

Word Count: WIP - constantly expanding.

Time: WIP - the clock is still ticking, people.

Summary: To both Bill and Tom, control is key; it's how they work together. Bill takes it, without or without permission, over everything from clothes to food to songs to bedtime. Tom gives it, freely and wholehearted to his brother - what Bill thinks is best for him is best; whether it is girls, outfits, where they eat or sleep. How they have sex. He is not Master, he is not Sir. He is Bill, and Tom loves him.

Dedication: Nobody in particular - for a anon kink meme prompt which requested this:

I'd love Tom to be fully mentally under Bill's control.

They'd look outside like we see them, but behind the scenes Bill controls everything in Tom's life and Tom is happy about that. You can choose how far or in which things you want to focus on in this fic, but basically total control over everything (like Tom's looks, clothes, using bathroom, everything). Bill also controls Tom's relationships and sex life (chooses Tom's gf's, random sex partners...) and in their own not-so-platonic relationship. Tom is happy to give all his control to Bill and it makes him feel safe. Sometimes Bill plays with Tom's OCD (messes things up, re-arrange things like Tom's need to color match) and it causes Tom anxiety, but in the end they are really happy together like this.

This is not about an abusive relationship, but very loving and caring one.

A/N: Cross posting, nothing new here..... Could be vaguely seen as the sequel to Walk the Line but it's not necessary to think of it like that, found here as part one and part two

Distribution: Nyet. Not for you. See master post here for list of distribution places. Previous Chapter can be found here.


Chapter Two

Bathing and Hopes:
-*-*-

In the bathroom, Bill is kneeling on the floor beside the bath, naked except for a pair of navy boxer briefs; his hand in the bath, swishing the water around. On the side, Tom sees clothes scattered across the marble countertop and he goes to sort them almost before he realises the transgression he almost made.

“May I?” He asks and Bill nods without looking around at him, fiddling with the taps to adjust the water temperature but Tom is more interested in folding the clothes, taking care to remove the socks and boxers from inside the jeans, and coiling the necklace around the several rings and bracelets. He doesn’t rush and Bill doesn’t say anything – the only sound in the room is the water running. And then Bill speaks.

“Undress.” Tom doesn’t hesitate – he’s hot and sticky from the club and the girl – no, the woman – and he’s dying to bathe and get rid of the sweat and the smell of booze on his skin. He loves clubs and bars but he’s not so fond of the clean-up operation he has to go through every time he comes out of one.

Bill turns to watch him as he strips down, leaning on the edge of the bath to get to his feet and as Tom unfastens his belt, a piece of paper floats out from the waist band of his jeans. Bill stares at it with a dark look in his eyes but it’s not anger. Tom knows anger when he sees it but this isn’t it. It’s… satisfaction… pride… pleasure. He’s seen it all before and he knows why.

Bill likes Tom collecting numbers, collecting names, collecting women – it’s all good to him, as long as Tom doesn’t stray. But why would he? He gets everything he needs right here, right now. The skirt is just... added extra, sometimes working off steam, sometimes building it up, sometimes it’s just fun. Other times, it’s just comfort, being reassured of his own skills and prowess – Bill always picks the right sort of woman or girl that he needs to fulfil his needs at that time…

But at the end of the day, it’s always Bill who will share his bed.

“Good boy.” Bill praises as he hands over the slip of paper – it’s nice note paper, and her handwriting is bold and confident – exactly the kind of calligraphy he’d expect from a woman who pressed herself to him, whispered the most filthy things in his ear, running her fingers down his chest and finding his nipples straight away.

He didn’t know how she knew but she had him dancing on her fingers within seconds and he’d stayed like that for the full hour he was with her on the dance floor, rocking into her and she had been perfect.

Bill had watched the entire time.

Now inside the bathroom, there’s no girl and her ghost is gone – the only sign that she even existed to him now is the faint lingering perfume on his shirt and skin and when he neatly lays the last of his clothes on the counter top, Bill invites him forward with a wave of his hand and a smile.

He can’t help colouring as he moves closer – even though Bill is only wearing underwear, being naked is such a precarious position to be in, such a terrifyingly exposed way to be, and Tom feels so helpless as his shivers turn to anticipation and anticipation turns to sparks in his belly.

Bill’s knowing smile says it all really as Tom tries to not cover himself with his hands. Bill doesn’t mind but it makes him laugh and ask Tom how he can be so shy and Tom just is shy, alright? He is when it comes to this – no sex, no flirtation on the table, just him nude and alone in front of Bill

When Bill helps him into the bath, the water is cool and gentle on his flushed skin and he knows what’s coming. Bill takes up the wash cloth in his hand and Tom obediently settles back.

Time to get rid of her for once and for all.

--

Tom whimpers as Bill draws the cloth down his arm – hearing him sigh in fondness as Tom blushes, ducks his head low and Bill laughs even more. He’s oversensitive – but more so than normal, his constant arousal making every nerve hyperaware of every touch and trickle of water and he can’t help moaning a little as Bill torments him with the pale blue material over and over.

He rubs the material along Tom’s belly, pressing into the softness with strong, determined fingers to feel at what’s beneath. Tom knows what’s coming.

“Do you need an enema?”

Fuck. Tom hates them with a passion, loathes how they make him feel drained and tired and empty – but that’s only after Bill has made him hold it in for an hour or more, laying on the bed or the couch with a plug holding in the warm liquid, making him feel slow and lethargic as Bill rubs his chest, playing with his nipples to keep him half hard and dazed but not enough to let him come.

Bill likes to keep him there for ages, until he’s half crazy with want and need and his belly aches low and deep inside; only when Bill says it’s okay can Tom be helped to his feet, taken to the bathroom to let loose and be empty again. Afterwards, he feels strange, floaty and dreamy and Bill always loves him like that; confused and trusting and blindly seeking comfort.

Bill likes him to be clean, inside and out, and so every month he has to take it; lying on a towel on the bathroom floor, rocking into the air as Bill strokes his expensive manicured nails down his back and tells him that he’s such a good boy for taking it.

He screws up his face, praying that Bill won’t make him take it tonight and he hears Bill’s chuckle in the back of his head long before it reaches his ears.

“Ah, Tom…” he cooes, and Tom blushes.

If Bill said he needed it, then he’d take it but he hates them so much, wishes so often that Bill will be kind and not make him take the water and the hose and the pressure to make him clean for hours.

But tonight, Bill is kind, shaking his head in fond amusement at Tom’s embarrassment. “Not tonight then.” It does not escape Tom’s notice that Bill hasn’t ruled it out for tomorrow or the rest of the week and inside he sighs because he knows it’s coming now. “Come on, hands and knees.” Bill commands, sitting back on his heels and Tom obediently clambers around until he’s on his hands and knees just as Bill wants him.

The cloth is dipped back into the water, and then the soothing rhythm of Bill’s hand over his body and the soft swishing of the water starts to relax Tom properly. Bill hums in approval at Tom’s release of tension as he sighs. He runs his fingers over Tom’s under the water, “Good boy.”

Tom blushes at the blatant soft desire in those words.

“Spread your knees.” Bill demands and Tom does so, leaving himself wide open and exposed from behind or the side but it’s the right thing to do. “Lovely.” Bill comments and Tom sighs as he stares into the rippling water below. Out of sight, he hears Bill uncapping the shower gel, squirting in onto the cloth and he smells the clean scent of Johnsons and Johnson’s long before he should be able to.

“Wh-?”

“Shush.” Bill doesn’t even let him get a word out. “Your skin is dry.” It probably is but Bill likes it because Tom doesn’t – he’s far too tied up with the scent, so many memories of hotel rooms and tour bus bunks, and places other than home with Bill and only Bill that it makes him nervous, fluttery, half way to arousal before he knows why.

Bill doesn’t say anything else, dragging the cloth over Tom’s shoulders, under his chest, onto his belly and Tom can’t help his hips rocking as Bill drifts too close to his dick. He whimpers, needing that hand to go lower, to touch him where he’s desperate but Bill just sighs again.

“No, Tom.” He reprimands as he carries on and Tom feels like crying. It’s been five days, and he’s been hard for most of that time, needing release but he can’t. He’s still horny from the club and the girl, and his cock is more than half way hard, aching and raw.

He whimpers again, rocking in place but he just gets a slap to his bottom and a stern reprimand of “Behave,” from Bill and he just wants to come because it hurts so much now, he’s got fucking grey balls, never mind blue.

“Stop it,” Bill warns but Tom aches and hurts and it takes Bill’s hand on his face, pulling him around to stare into his twin’s eyes to make him stop. “Be good, Tom, and I might let you come tonight - would you like that?”

Tom nods, because he’s hard and it hurts and he just needs release and Bill’s thumb on his bottom lip is soft and soothing.

“Use your words for now.” Bill reminds him.

“Yes. Yes, I would like to come – please, Bill.” He’s perilously close to whining and Bill loathes that but apparently his desperation got through more than his words.

“Alright. But you have to be good for now,” There’s a caution in those words but Tom doesn’t care. He’s going to come and Bill is still pleased with the night’s pull.

He waits for Bill to finish up but his mind is already through the door and in the large king size bed and the bottle of lube Bill had set upon the nightstand as a warning for tonight’s activities.

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